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"No fairy tale... this!" One of Russ Meyer's wackiest flurries kicks things off, from a panoramic view of Kitten Natividad's scarlet curlies to the mailbox by a Bavarian castle. One "Adolph Schwartz" (Edward Schaaf) thoroughly enjoys his buggering in the dungeon, it might be a behind-the-scenes reel from Hogan's Heroes, he's vanquished by a piranha in his bathtub. Sunny California, passing through is the dancer (Raven De La Croix) who inspires poetic tributes ("Nipples that other broads wish they had for tits! But back to her ass...") and vicious attacks. The frisky couple (Janet Wood, Robert McLane) running the truck-stop diner lead double lives, the sheriff (Monty Bane) maintains law and order by getting his rocks off as often as possible. Lust and murder, the wood-nymph Greek chorus sorts it out: "Do cries of ecstasy mingle with mammaries of destruction?" Meyer vying with the hardcore industry is an ample excoriation, as nasty as it needs to be. The beauty of American iconography—the Pilgrim is a shame-faced blue-boy, Pocahontas figures in a gross punchline ("It's all red. Looks like you've been fucking an Indian"), Paul Bunyan is a deranged erection quelled by a chainsaw. Nothing serves Nietzsche's Überfrau like the cyclonic editing, the unzipped mouth in the leather mask promptly receives a banana. The wandering Mae West drawl, the Wellesian snatch, Wagner to uncloak the culprit. "The secret of Eva Braun Jr. dies with you, bimbo!" Godard helps himself to a few choice frames for Histoire(s) du Cinéma (Seul le Cinéma). With Bob Schott, Candy Samples, Elaine Collins, Linda Sue Ragsdale, Marianne Marks, and Su Ling.
--- Fernando F. Croce |