 I gotta hand it to Russ Meyer: his movies don't look like anyone else's movies. This particular attrocity dispenses with even the token nods toward plotting that lurk behind his other magnum opuses (opii?)(eg: Faster Pussycat, Kill, Kill; Motor Psycho; Beyond the Valley of the Dolls) in favor of the director's trademarked mammary freaks, bright pop-art design, and manic editing. This doesn't have the corrosive presence of some of Meyer's other superbitches like Tura Satana or Erica Gavin, either, but Kitten Natividad is a thing to see--her bras must be engineering marvels and she is sexier than a woman that busty has a right to be (she is certainly not as grotesque as Chesty Morgan in those Doris Wishman movies from the 60's), and is she enthusiastic!! Bedsprings are strained in this movie. This has a strange, sounds-like-an-industrial-training-film narration that doesn't mean anything, and it has enough sex to satisfy anyone who doesnt demand hard core. It was written by one Roger Ebert masquerading behind a pseudonym--unlike his stellar work on Beyond the Valley of the Dolls. This would be something to talk about if it actually had something to say. But Meyer has always had more technique than substance, anyway... About the author: keeping the dream of weirdo culture alive...send any hate mail to cbenedict@socket.net You may read another review, submit your own, or return home. |
