That good ol’ Russ Meyer died last week. Being a modestly endowed individual, I can’t say I was a big fan of his movies. I know I saw at least one of the mid-70s titles and found it inoffensive. I guess the strong woman/hapless manbottom negated the effect Meyer’s big boob fetish would’ve otherwise had on me. And I liked the occasional silly sex romp movies back then, thinking specifically of Flesh Gordon, Woody Allen, and some title-forgotten Roman Polanski film.
The funniest commentary I noticed about Meyer’s passing was on this week’s Wait, Wait, Don’t Tell Me. Yeah, listen to the Opening Panel Round, but then go to Panel Round, Part 2. That’s where the real fun was. (And O Rouke? What’s with you? You missed a “Our Lady of Perpetual Endowment” opportunity there, buddy!)
Much to my surprise, the local art house theater reopened under the auspices of another chain and (hurray!) I got to see John Waters’s A Dirty Shame, which as you can see, is getting mixed reviews Let me say this: It’s a romp, taking much from exploit- sexploitation films of the past and running with as many genre elements as possible. Including a plot that evaporates into an orgy of a ludicrous ending. Me, I laughed through the entire film. Goofy is as goofy does..
Is it a good film? Not by any critic’s standard, mainly because its ending is one sloppy over-the-top orgy. But if you look at it through irreverent eyes and mutter the mantra “sexploitation, sexploitation, sexploitation,” you’ll get it.
I must point out that while prudes and their repressively pouty ways certainly take hits in the film, Waters doesn’t let the sex addicts go without some cautionary finger-waggin’ of their own. Sex addicts pay attention: When you believe too much, he seems to say, you’re as ludicrous as the average “neuter” religion.
Note taken.
But really, the movie’s meant to be a hoot. Where else are you gonna hear Bear-dyke dialogue like “Hey! I’m the only Goldilocks allowed in this cave!” Or Patty Hearst spouting 12-step lines like, “Make a list of everyone you fucked and then apologize to their parents!” Yeah — that’s what I’m talking about!
And, of course, Big boobs, too. Really, REALLY big boobs. Prothestics, but still one hellova piece of synchronicity. I gotta think Russ Meyer’s smiling down from somewhere on John Waters right about now. Sure hope there’s big tits in the afterlife for the old geezer. Me? Like I said, goofy is as goofy does. I ain’t lookin’ a gift romp in the mouth. Or any other orifice, come to think of it.
