"Kitten With a Whip" (1964) d/ Douglas Heyes

In the fifties and sixties, it's no surprise that a subgenre of films concerning juvenile delinquents became wildly popular, thanks, in part, to legendary performances by the likes of Marlon Brando, James Dean, and Vic Morrow. Before too long, there were widespread cinematic snot-nosed punks abandoning the sock hop for hot rod-fueled games of chicken on the railroad tracks, trading their malted milk and penny loafers for flick knives and cigarettes. Necking parties, jazz records, beat poetry...no room for squares in this scene, man.
Tonight's review focuses on one of these movies, centered around a bad girl, as portrayed by superlative sex kitten and titilating target of Elvis' Vegas veiner, Ann-Margret, whose flowing red locks certainly had to be a harbinger of the movie mischief to come. C'mon, even the Romans knew about gingers.

 
"I'd be two Oscar Goldman-balls deep in that, last night...", quips Grant (Richard Anderson).
David (John Forsythe) is a wealthy enigma who runs a detective agency full of smoldering hot birds from behind the anonymity of a speakerphone-no, wait, that's the wrong role. David is an aspiring politician who's on the verge of a paramount pow-wow with influential people, as he's constantly reminded by his smothering straight-laced chum, Grant (Richard Anderson). His wife and kids are briefly out of town, but he's hoping his upcoming bid for office will bolster his strained marriage. Only,  he comes home to find a troubled, transient teenager named Jody (Ann-Margret) fast asleep in his bed. After she serves him up an obligatory sob story, complete with war wounds and freshly whipped up insta-tears, he springs for a new outfit for the hard luck story before giving her a ride to the nearest bus station and seeing her off like a decent, God-fearing American would. Just when he's about to divulge his crazy story to Grant, a public television reveals that Jody may or may not have set fire to the reform school she's just dramatically escaped from, shanking up one of her matrons in the process, leaving the poor old girl in critical condition. What was that crazy story you had for me, Dave, old bean? Oh...oh, nothing.


"Everything's so creamy!", notes Jody (Ann-Margret).
Thinking he's dodged a fucker of a bullet, he comes home to...Jody, who's just dyed her hair red and fresh from a shower, with blackmail on her mind, fire in her eyes, and passion on her lips. Naturally, David is forced to comply with the venomous vixen's slightest whim, which include some close calls with Grant and nosy neighbors, tense phone calls from the missus, and an impromptu jazz party with three of the smoky somethin's closest associates, which lead to all sorts of delinquency, Dad: straight razor fights, blowing pot, listening to records and dancing... and it's not long before a visibly frazzled David is spotted on the streets of fucking Tijuana (of all fucking places), wearing a bloody-sleeved cardigan, and clutching a bottle of booze, by the very would be-constituents he's been avoiding while desperately dealing with the home wrecking hoolies. That's some pickle that flame-headed flapper's gotten you into, boyyo. If you want to see how it all turns out, I suggest you hunt down a copy for yourselves.


"Bosley, get my Angels on the horn...Charlie's cardigan-deep in trouble, daddy-o!"
Apart from his work here, Heyes also directed an episode of Night Gallery, three episodes of Thriller, and nine of the original Twilight Zone series. If the motel scene seems vaguely familiar, it's because Norman Bates himself famously prowled the very same set four years earlier.
Many folks throw Kitten on their "Worst of" lists, thanks in part to that show involving that snarky nerd and his space puppets whose name eludes me at the moment. Don't listen to the naysayers concerning this one, kids. It's saturated with plenty of everything that makes movies of this nature so damned entertaining. The story is a hoot, the dialog is a scream, the characters' philosophy is kooky,  the rear-projected car rides are snicker-worthy, and then, on top of all that, there's Ann-Margret. She goes from doe-eyed innocent to strait jacket nuts and back at will, and there's not a man in all of history who wouldn't get reeled in by this tasty little slice of strawberry shortcake. The movie's worth multiple viewings for her, alone. On the scale, three wops, and a strong recommendation.


I'd let Ann have me, and I wouldn't even charge. The sweetest kittens have the sharpest claws, as they say.

"Wild For Kicks" (1960) d/ Edmond T. Greville

We'll see June off with a real vintage rebellious youth scorcher from the Brits, full of hep cats with acoustic guitars, chicken on the railroad tracks, "Hogs of the Road", and jazzy now birds who striptease for kicks. Many people have tried to finger the cause of the vein of delinquency rampant in the youth of the era, and the subsequent rise of subcultures like the Teds, Mods, Skins, Punks, etc. but maybe living for the moment, to the fullest, testing one's boundaries, reveling in the thrills, doesn't require investigation at all, since it's just the nature of the beast in question. But it sure makes for great exploitation fare, like tonight's movie...


See! Plaid Shirt (Ollie Reed) go over and out, Dad.
Besides being a few letters away from being a flamboyant Hollywood Square, Paul Linden (David Farrar) is a retired British architect returning home to his sixteen year old daughter Jennifer (Gillian Hills), with his new French trophy bride, Nichole (Noelle Adam) in tow. Jenny is not much for bonding with her young stepmother, and would much rather sneak her ass out to the local coffee house, and surround herself with the  kick-craving "In Crowd" of beatniks who think drinking and fighting is for squares, as led by Dave (Adam Faith), who lugs around a guitar he doesn't play and often interrupts the house band, breaking into lip synched pop tunes that are waaay out there, Dad. Plaid Shirt (Ollie Reed) suppresses (barely...as he desperately dives across a floor for a bottle of gin, only to get scolded by the straight-edgers) his desire to get knackered in keeping with the beatnik code and dances like one of those inflatable sky dancers you see flailing around outside used car dealerships, while Dodo (Shirley Anne Field) slings catch phrases of the day in a posh accent and doesn't mind a good necking party. Nichole, who's already familiar with the beat scene from her time in happening Paris, tries to bond with her stepdaughter, who, in the spirit of teenage rebellion, declares an all-out smear war on the well-meaning blonde.


I say, ra-ther good show getting out of that restrictive clobber and putting your exotic naughties on display, eh wot?
When Nichole shows up at the aptly-named Off Beat Cafe' and embarrasses Jennifer in front of her bohemian peers, she is recognized by an old washed-up-on-the-beach stripper named Greta (Delphi Lawrence, uncredited), leading the little bitch to investigate Nichole's seedy past at the near by gentlemen's club, as run by Greta's unscrupulous flesh peddling beau, Kenny (Christopher Lee). Armed with the knowledge that her loving stepmother may have turned a trick or two in the rough spots, Jennifer goes jihad for kicks, partying in caves, racing in the dark on rear projected country roads that are under construction, laying her head on the rear projected railroad tracks with a train approaching, holding a striptease party in her sprawling estate, and even returning to the strip joint for an employment consultation with Kenny, who unforgettably exclaims, "Someone down there likes me!". If he's willing to allow a sixteen year old to enter his adult business in the first place, how far is this touchy feely chicken hawk willing to go? You'll find out when you sit down to screen Wild for Kicks for yourselves. I'm over and out, dad.


"Cor, I've left me shift in Bristol!"
Gillian Hills, who also appeared in Antonioni's Blow Up (1966), you'll recall as one of the penis-pop-lapping devotchkas that Alex encounters while browsing music in A Clockwork Orange (1971). Adam Faith, who does provide two of his bubblegum tunes for the soundtrack (Field also sings "It's Legal"),  would turn up as the lead in 1971's short-lived Budgie series, and later in McVicar (1980) with Roger Daltrey of The Who. Farrar would give up acting just two years later. Diane D'Orsay and Pascaline also deserve mention for some choice on camera clothes-losing, sizzlingly sexy and provocative for their day, I'm sure. Overall, you won't do wrong to check this one out, with its wall-to-wall laugh out loud dialog, outrageous dance moves, and enticing eye candy. Three wops, among the best of its rabble-rousing kind. Recommended.


"Pack your bags, my child. I've got two tickets to Inappropriate-ville right here.", coos Kenny (Christopher Lee).