D.
Otto Von De Mille
Colour
Even at the time it seemed incredibly unlikely that the
1990s was crying out for its own Russ Meyer. That seemed an aesthetic which had
been lost to the age of Mondo movies, written up in psychotronic guidebooks,
but really not part of a relevant cinema going forward. This was the 1990s
after all and feminism had come a long way. Yes, Meyer’s women were strong and
feisty independent ladies, but equally they were ludicrously busty sex symbols
whom the camera just drooled over. They were soft-porn icons for the more
discerning viewer, but still soft porn icons. That whole thing may have been
the scene in the late 1960s, but definitely wasn’t the case in the more
inclusive 1990s. And yet, the ‘Sexy Goth Girls’ films exist. They only had a
limited cinema release, true, but they do have a cult following and I bet there’s
a whole generation of people who revere these films but have barely even heard
of Russ Meyer. They are loved, these sexy goth girls.
Part of that is down to the influence of another auteur
whose fingerprints are as smeared over every frame of these films as Meyer’s grubby
and calloused paws – the big Q himself, Quentin Tarantino. That is less
surprising. Every independent film of the late 1990s seemed to have sucked hard
at Quentin’s teet, trying to drink in the magic which took him from the
ultimate cinema geek to a major force of cinema. Probably more than any
filmmaker, his style was unmistakably and (for the most part) unashamedly ripped
off, copied and homaged in the years after his breakthrough. Even now there are
films which barely creep out where you see the love of dialogue about everyday
things, the cool pop references and sudden bursts of violence. If the only
films you ever watched were indie films that were released straight to the
video store, you’d believe that Quentin was everywhere.
So a strange cinematic marriage of Russ Meyer and Quentin
Tarantino, but how else could I describe this film? First and foremost it’s a
chance to hang out with sexy goth girls, actually it’s an opportunity to hang
out with some very sexy goth girls.
There are lots of lingering shots of lovely curvaceous ladies spilling out of
black and intense looking corsets, of shapely thighs in dark and torn
stockings, of full lips plumped up by shiny black lipstick. Arresting,
striking, dark and erotic images abound, and let’s be fair many of them are
somewhat pervy. It’s hanging out with gorgeous women while they sit virtually in
their underwear and don’t mind you trying to look up their (very) short skirts.
But that’s where the essence of Quentin saves the day. We are hanging out with
these girls and they are chatting away and these conversations are hilarious.
The script is genuinely verbose and clever, with a great appreciation of the
cadences of the Los Angeles accent, and so it’s a pleasure to listen in to the
rhythms of the chat. Particular favourites include the top ten possible reasons
as to how some baked beans could have possibly ended up down the back of the couch
(none of them involve actually eating baked beans, well not in any traditional
sense anyway), why sex shops don’t employ seniors to offer advice and wisdom in
the bedroom “those old dudes must have literally seen EVERYTHING” and how
supportive a boyfriend Freddy Krueger would actually be. It all crackles, it’s
all immensely fun and that makes any watching man feel like he can dispense
with the dirty brown raincoat and just enjoy this openly.
It’d be fair to say that since these girls were members of
the LA goth scene, rather than actual actresses, the performances are variable.
But in Liddy D’Eath (helpfully playing a character named Liddy) a fey blonde
with incredibly long legs and the widest grey eyes, we do have what looks like a star
in the making. Yes the whole thing is clearly filmed cheaply, and the murder
plot that takes over the last half hour comes from nowhere and deserves the
response ‘Huh’ – but what could be a very pervy film, becomes a somewhat guilty
pleasure that shouldn’t make you feel too seedy.
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