Enjoying an exemplary early grilling season here at Chez Wop, with the respective swordfish and bison population dwindling at the apetite of yours cruelly, while you guys have quietly hit the site over the past few months like El Duce on a forty-ouncer of Hurricane at nine in the morning, leftover pizza and weight lifting optional.As a token of my gratitude, tonight we'll look over the second last feature from the King a' Gashingas, the potentate of pillow-puppies, the maharajah of major moundage, the one and only, Russ Meyer.For his bicentennial effort, a wild and woolly sex comedy with little regard for cohesion or clarity(and really, who's going into a movie like this looking for that), Russ enlisted the ample charms of the staggeringly beautiful Raven De La Croix, who measured a modest 42DD during her heyday in cult cinema and burlesque and selfishly hogged my adolescent daydreams just like the archetypal brunette sex kitten oughta.Assisting Ms. De La Croix in pitching my Levis brand tent is two time Miss Nude Universe and former arm candy of Russ himself, Francesca Natividad, merely 42D-24-36 in stature at the height of her popularity(she's been measured at 46EEE as recently as '97), a 'Kitten' I wouldn't mind having my inbox flooded with memes of for a change, to be honest with you.Also along for the ride are Janet Wood and a zipper-masked Candy Samples, neither of whom have a problem getting 'em out for the lads in front of a camera, gods bless 'em, a Hitler lookalike gettin' ass-blasted by a pilgrim with a kielbasa-sized cartoon crank in an S & M dungeon...describing the carnage as penned by Meyer and film critic/repressed pervo Roger Ebert in this mammarian whodunit's even gonna be a challenge to a wily wordsmith such as I, believe me.Twisted fucks of the world unite...and all that old pomp and circumstance, as it were...
Adolf Schwartz(Edward Schaaf), sans shorts, enjoys news reports amidst his watersports.
Straight outta the gate we're introduced by a busty nude Greek chorus(Francesca Natividad) with a dubbed British accent, to Adolf Schwartz(Edward Schaaf), a German who bears more than a striking resemblance to that other Adolf chappie, except he's in an S&M dungeon wearing furry assless chaps getting the fuck whipped out of him by a pilgrim named Paul(Robert McLane) while he ravishes various naked ethno-dames.He tips the pilgrim extra to stuff his hentai-esque cock up his whip-rattled ass.One of the more unsexy visuals in film I've ever had to endure, thanks.Later he's brutally murdered in the bathtub of his Bavarian-style Wulf's Lair hideout in northern California when some mysterious intruder in black leather gloves dumps a piranha(or grouper, same thing, I guess) named 'Harry the Nimrod' in with the bubblebathing fuhrer.The Greek chorus pops up in various picturesque environs, bucking and gyrating in nude interpretive grooviness to run down the list of murder suspects and motives to the audience keeping score at home.While the ever-so-slightly pillow-chested Margo Winchester(Raven De La Croix) bobbles her buh-hubbas on a morning jog, she's sexually attacked by a less-than-subtle admirer from afar that she's forced to cream with a post-rape boulder.The whole sordid incident is witnessed by local badge, Homer Johnson(Monty Bane), who offers to corroborate her alibi if she'd only just fuck his brains out once in awhile.She does(does she ever), later scoring a job at Sweet Li'l Alice's, a local restaurant run by it's namesake(Janet Wood) and her husband, Paul.Glad to see he settled down and dropped the whole puritan/sado-sodomizer kick he was on earlier.
Margo Winchester(Raven De La Croix) makes for an impressive seat cover, indeed.
It's not long before Paul, too, falls prey to Margo's bewitching and bountiful bait, and an abridged period of time passes before the narrative gets hung up on who's putting the blocks to who:Paul v.Margo, Homer v. Margo, Paul v. Alice, Homer v. stereotypically garbed native American chick(Margo asks, "Why's your dick so red? You been fucking an Indian??!")... Oh, that's a scream, alright.While captivating a cafe full of pickled cat-calling hayseeds one night with a table dance in a form-fitting gown with a neckline somewhere around the Marianas Trench, she inspires the reticent mountain of a lumberjack (who's a half-case of beer in), Rafe(Bob Schott), to vigorously rape her in front of the crowd of compliant clodhoppers(Meyer's in there among the hillbillies, btw).Apparently, brutal rape's a real crowdpleaser in them thar parts.When Li'l Alice tries to intervene, her clothes disappear as she becomes another layer in the Dagwood-sized rape-wich, which leads to an outrageous knock down, drag out, cafe'-battle/chase-to-the-death complete with obligatory axes and chainsaw.With Rafe and Homer presumably getting acquainted with their respective makers at the bottom of a ravine, Alice takes the opportunity to seduce Margo(naturally, who wouldn't?), which quickly dissolves into two completely naked women chasing each other, going knuckle up in a river bed, all the while laying down one of the most incomparably unhinged dialogue exchanges to ever take place in the annals of cult movie history, if not cinema itself, which I'm gonna let you hear for yourselves when you decide to check out this particular eighty minute example of Meyer's most deliriously over-the-top stuff available.Must be seen to be believed, and I don't often say that about softcore porn.
I'm exempt from tree-fucks on account of termites becoming lovestruck by my jutting Mediterranean wood.
Up! often gets dismissed as Meyer's ugliest, most hateful work due to the comedic approach to the rape scenes and one-dimensional characters with only ruckin' n' fuckin' in mind, but getting caught up in a Bugs Bunny-esque sound effect booooooiiiiiiinnnng! when somebody whips a prosthetic dick out of their pants when there's naked women who are so goddamned voluptuous that they deserve ogling from misogynists and feminists alike, traipsing through lush locales, whose beauty is only intensified by Meyer's loving lens, well then I think you've missed Russ' point completely.Besides, if you read Wopsploitation on anything resembling a regular basis, then a movie like this is right up your alley with double D doses of cartoony sex, violence, and beautiful women in every frame, though, it's admittedly a frightening thing when Roger Ebert is left to his own perverse devices while writing a screnplay, indeed.On the scale, three really Big ones, with no further boob jokes to follow...
Look out, Kitten! He's about to snatch your pelt.Or vice-versa.
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