The Baby (1973): or, You Oughta Wean Him, He's Old Enough

Reading synopses, reviews, and open-mouthed shock reactions for Ted Post's 1973 weirdo exploitation romp The Baby, I had somehow got the idea that at least part of the movie's shock value was inherent in the reveal of its premise--a social worker goes to the house of an eccentric family to assess the needs of their "special" youngest member, only to discover that the "baby" she thought she'd be caring for is in fact a thirty-year old man in an oversized crib and diapers. Therefore I worried that, since I knew the premise going in, much of the effectiveness of that shock reveal would be diffused.

Parishioners, I was happily misinformed--not only about how much the flick's effectiveness relies on that shock reveal (hint: it doesn't), but about that knockout premise's centrality to the plot as a whole. Yes, there's a thirty-year-old man with the brain of a pre-verbal infant who sleeps in a gigantic crib and occasionally needs his nappy changed, but surprisingly that's just a small part of what makes the movie tick. It's merely the soup base, if you will, to which Post and writer Abe Polsky add a variety of savory exploitation ingredients--some diced, some chunky, some pureed--to arrive at a delicious Mad Movie stew.

Despite all his rage, he still acts twelve years underage.

Social worker Ann Gentry (Anjanette Comer, previously of the beloved-by-some Mexican oddity The Night of a Thousand Cats) is a lonely woman whose life has been marred by some unspecified tragedy involving her husband--a tragedy she's loath to discuss, but is always reflected in her sad, striking blue eyes. She spends her days immersed her her work with disadvantaged and disabled children, and her nights in the darkened palatial mansion she shares with her devoted mother-in-law, watching home movies of happier times. It's a sad existence, and one that clearly leaves Ann unhappy and unfulfilled.

All that changes when she takes on the case of the Wadsworth family, a trio of eccentric women who depend on governmental assistance to care for their youngest brother/son, "Baby" (David Mooney). There's no shock reveal here, as before the opening credits are over Ann has thumbed through a series of photos showing the infantilized adult crawling on the carpet, lying in his crib, and modeling the Depends™ Fall Line with undeniable panache. Ann takes an unusual--indeed, downright unhealthy--interest in the case, and quickly inserts herself into the daily life of the Wadsworths so she can spend as much time as possible with Baby.

Not the first time she's given blue balls.

This doesn't sit well with Mama Wadsworth (an absolutely wonderful Ruth Roman, twenty years on from her top-billed female lead role in Hitchcock's Strangers on a Train), who would much prefer the social worker just rubber-stamp their file, send the check, and butt the hell out. Mrs. Wadsworth is a tough, no-nonsense matriarch you definitely don't want to cross--think Varla from Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill!, only thirty years older and living in the suburbs. When Ann comes to her with ideas about how to improve Baby's condition, Mrs. Wordsworth lets her know she will not suffer her motherly toes to be stepped on. "Maybe you think too much," she tells the timid woman, archly. "When it comes to Baby, I do all the thinking."

That comparison to Russ Meyer's most famous anti-heroine is a considered one, as Mrs. Wadsworth and her two daughters make up a trio of villainesses that would feel right at home in the Meyer universe, if only they had the giant boobs required for entry. Youngest daughter Alba (Susanne Zenor) is a lanky pigtailed blonde who gives tennis lessons for pocket money. She's the angriest and most out-of-control of the Wadsworth women, vicious with Baby, sadistic with her would-be lovers, and given to delivering lines like Katherine Hepburn channeling Bette Davis ragging on Joan Crawford. (Nota bene: if you've never heard Bette lay into Joan, get thee to youtube or a quote site, stat. It's art.) Eldest daughter Germaine (Marianna Hill, who the same year memorably starred as Arletty in the MMMMMasterpiece Messiah of Evil) brings in a negligible amount of cash as a model and actress in commercials, and would probably make more money if she didn't come off like one of the forgotten members of the Addams Family. Sporting the vampress bouffant and slinky floor-length skirts, Germaine is the quiet, creepy sister, whose motivations for her kindness to both Baby and Ann prove to be somewhat less than altruistic.

"You're all shook up, aren't you, Baby?"

I said earlier that the weirdness of Baby's condition is not as central as you might expect--almost everyone who comes in contact with the Wadsworth, from Ann and her supervisor to Mrs. Wadsworth's party guests (on whom much more in a moment), seems to take Baby's infantilism in remarkable stride. There are no scenes of little old ladies expressing shock and horror at the sight of a grown man in diapers or a velvet Lord Fauntleroy outfit, no malicious teasing or giggling, pointing children. The closest we come is when a doctor Ann consults repeatedly refers to Baby as "retarded" (after a scene in a school for developmentally disabled children that's probably the most exploitative segment in the film), and blames it on Mrs. Wadworth's moral failings. ("Each child by a different man!" he notes, damningly, as if nothing more need be said.) The fact that Baby is treated just like any other baby--especially by Ann, who doesn't even hesitate to offer to change his loaded nappy (ewww)--gives the movie a further sense of unreality that again reminded me of the mad universe of Mr. Meyer.

But that doesn't mean Post and Polsky don't milk their premise for all it's worth. For instance, when Mama Wadworth and the girls decide to go out for a night on the town, they hire a young babysitter to watch Baby for the night. The girl is in her very early twenties and has apparently sat for Baby before, and is totally comfortable with him. After a telephone argument with her boyfriend lets us in on her sexual frustration, she goes to mind the baby, who is cranky and hungry. Despite his child-like mentality Baby *is* as strong as a thirty-year-old, and he starts pawing at the girl's breasts--clearly hoping for a little snack before bed! The girl resists at first, but finally allows Baby to latch on, a look of clearly sexual pleasure on her face! It's a testament to the film's disorienting skill that this reads more as the girl abusing Baby than vice versa.

Clearly Conflicted

The Wadsworth women pick that moment to come home, and Mama is most displeased to find Baby's lips wrapped around the milk-nozzle of the hired help. So displeased that she orders Germaine and Alba to teach the girl a lesson, which they do by slapping her bloody on the changing table before Mrs. Wadsworth takes the strap to her! As the sobbing girl flees, Mama reminds her not to go to the police, lest she be charged with "molesting a mental case."

As Ann investigates Baby's case files, she begins to find even more disturbing evidence. Baby's previous case worker had tried to spend a lot of time working with him as well, but then strangely disappeared just when she was beginning to report progress. (Dun-dun-DUN!) Furthermore, she theorizes that Mrs. Wadsworth, abandoned by her last Baby-daddy, now hates all men and is dead-set on making sure Baby, the only male member of the family, stays dependent on her and so never leaves. "He's imprisoned by a kind of sick love!" she tells her boss, and not heeding his warnings, begins to encourage Baby to speak and walk.

They Grow Up So Fast

Her theory is borne out when, after he seems to try to pull up on his play pen, the Wadsworths shoo her away and then take Baby back to his room for punishment with a cattle prod! Alba does the honors, shouting angrily, "Baby doesn't WALK...and Baby doesn't TALK...and Baby doesn't STAND!" all while zapping him with the prod! Their point made (and their meal ticket secured), the womenfolk retire...but creepy, diaphanous gown-clad Germaine returns later in the night to watch Baby sleeping in his crib, a strange gleam in her eye...her see-through gown drops to the floor as she opens the side-door of the crib, and we at MMMMMovies add another entry to the Film Encyclopedia of Retard Seduction.

But the main focus of the film is on Ann and her battle to wrest Baby away from his supervillain family. As her concern morphs into obsession, Ann begins to dream of adopting Baby, taking him home to live with her and her mother-in-law in their huge, largely empty home. Though usually timid and vulnerable, periodically Ann displays flashes of grim determination, as when she gets fiercely competitive in a game of darts with Alba. Similarly, her home life is punctuated with strange mysterious notes. For instance, why is her mother-in-law living with her in the absence of her familial connection, and why does she seem so devoted? What was the tragedy so severe that it causes Ann to crumple under Germaine's relentless questioning? What does Mom-in-Law mean when Ann asks her how her day was and she replies, "My feet hurt...among other things!"

(Hint--the implied answer later will knock your socks off.)

Chekhov Rule

It all culminates when Mama Wadsworth throws a 70s-style blow-out for Baby's birthday. Words can really not to justice to the awesomeness of this party, but I'm going to try, nonetheless. With Germaine glammed up like Helena Bonham Carter gone Disco, Alba in full-on sex-tease/party-bitch mode, and at least three-dozen of Mama Wadsworth's closest friends (INCLUDING the babysitter they beat to a pulp earlier!), this had to have been the social event of the season, if not the decade. Have we got red light bulbs? Have we got enough booze to keep Oliver Reed happy for 36 hours? Have we got hippie girls doing the frug with silver-haired middle-aged men straight out of Weekend with the Babysitter? Have we got Grave of the Vampire's Michael Pataki in one of the most amazing fringed suede jackets ever? YOU BET YOUR SWEET BIPPY WE DO.

Bandana Styles Come and Go, but The Chicken Dance is Forever


"No, seriously! I was on an episode of T.J. Hooker once!"

Get down, Mama!

Having had enough of Ann's meddling, Mama decides it's time to get her out of the picture permanently by drugging her drink and dragging her to the basement for later disposal. It works like a charm until Pataki notices and has to be distracted by Alba, who promises him sex if he can hold his hand over a flaming lighter for a full minute. ("I'll do anything to get to paradise, Alba, but does it have to be in an ambulance?") Unfortunately no one's minding the Baby, and with his inadvertent help Ann is able to escape and take him back to her place, slashing Mama's tires on the way out. ("That BITCH!" Mama spits. "She thinks of EVERYTHING!") This leads to an all-out SWAT-style attack as the Wadsworths invade the Gentry Mansion to get their Baby back (baby back baby back baby back), and that shock reveal I was waiting on all this time finally leaps out of the shadows and hits me in the face with a soaking wet nappy.

The very definition of "only in the 1970s," The Baby is a Mad Movie gem. The heightened-reality vibe I associate with Russ Meyer is here in full force, minus the bouncing boobs and cartoon sound effects. The Wadsworth women are larger-than-life icons, and Ruth Roman is absolutely monumental. With that Old Hollywood acting style and the bemused expression of a gangster who knows he could make one call and have your family's digits express delivered to your door, Roman absolutely nails the role. The other Wadsworth girls are great too--particularly Marianna Hill in her weird, disturbingly sexual role--but it's Roman who really makes things sizzle.

Ruth Roman: All Out of Bubble Gum

Anjanette Comer plays Ann as the polar opposite to Mrs. Wadsworth's supreme self-confidence and dangerous capability. Ann is vulnerable and sad, an emotional open wound, whose obsession with Baby is a desperate attempt to fill the crater in her life left by that unnamed meteor of tragedy. Finally, David Mooney as Baby is admirably committed to the role, though at times he seems to play Baby less like an infant than like a puppy. Apparently Mooney recorded the "baby sounds" for his performance--crying, baby talk, etc.--but Post later replaced them with actual baby sounds. I can't help thinking hearing Mooney's original interpretation might make things even weirder and more effective, but sadly that track seems to be lost.

Given its premise, the film demonstrates what some might call admirable restraint in many ways, as detailed above. However, the score of the movie by Gerald Fried is not one of those instances. In fact, it's downright schizophrenic. There are passages that sound like Henry Mancini Pink Panther-style jazz, juxtaposed with bombastic Spaghetti Western music (both Fried and Post have many Westerns in their filmographies), switching then to plinky music box and finally to experimental Kronos Quartet-style string screeches. If Fried meant to capture the mental states of the various characters in this score, well, I have to say he succeeded.

"No, sorry--I don't have a Hugh Jass here."

In closing, if you only see one movie this year about a man-baby cared for by strong, eccentric women and kidnapped by a well-meaning social worker for ulterior motives of her own, make sure it's this one and not Adult Baby Fetish 5: Oops I Crapped My Playpen. 3 Thumbs for this exemplary Mad Movie.

Nota Bene: Aunt John over at Kindertrauma (one of the Duke and Vicar's absolute favorite web stops--follow it now if you haven't already!) put together a wonderful post on Baby's Birthday party that must be seen and thereafter applauded maniacally. Here's the link. Go there now!


A few more images from The Baby (1973):

Bringing Up Baby

"Please stay behind that line on the carpet. We've determined that to be the limit of his blast range."

She Loves the Night Life


"Cover your ears, Baby--Mommy's about to call someone a cocksucker!"


"Awww, oos got him a wittle boo-boo?"


Just like in the dream!

Told Ya

MORE MADNESS...

Summary only...

Amuck! (1972): or, Rosalba Rocks My World

Have I mentioned lately how much I'm in love with Rosalba Neri?

Well, I am. A LOT.

From groovy gialli to Mad Mad Mad Mad Science masterpieces to strangely uninvolving WiP-fare, you can always count on my girl Rosalba to class up the joint with her intense acting, amazing wardrobe, and general gob-smacking goregousity. Happily, all these qualities are showcased in Silvio Amadio's 1972 mystery/thriller Amuck! (aka Alla ricerca del piacere). With other highlights including (but not limited to) swingin' 70s sex parties, a menacing butler, Eurohunting duck-snuff and the fifth awarding of the rarefied "Retard Seduction" post label, this flick should have any fan of Neri's or Italian thrillers generally standing at full attention.

IYKWIM.

Rosalba Neri: Smokin' Hawt

We open with a pretty young blonde arriving at a residential island off the coast of Venice, dumped off the water taxi at the iron gates of a palatial, slightly gothic mansion. The girl is Greta Franklin (the mouth-wateringly beautiful Barbara Bouchet of Black Belly of the Tarantula, Don't Torture a Duckling, The French Sex Murders, and dozens of other movies now in my Netflix queue), and she is to be the live-in secretary for brooding novelist Richard Stuart, played by Farley Granger (Rope, Strangers on a Train). The writer's previous secretary, Sally (Patrizia Viotti) disappeared a few months previous under mysterious circumstances.

As usual in Italian thrillers of this particular vintage, very little is what it seems at the Villa Stuart, and the few things that are hold their own peculiarities. It turns out Greta is Sally's BFF (which in this case is Italian for "lesbian lover"), and has placed herself in Richard's employ to find out what happened to her vanished friend. Sally's last few letters, in which she detailed the author's drug-fueled swingers' parties and sexual power games, have led Greta to believe the girl may have met with foul play. (Sally writes eloquently about being "driven by another will...A willing slave in this world of perverse pleasures!" And what's the downside again?)

"I am pleased to inform you that this window is secure. Please to continue with the undressing."

Deep undercover, Greta proceeds to pump the Stuarts...for information! Which involves getting extremely cozy with the mistress of the house, Eleanora Stuart (Rosalba Neri, natch), who shares her husband's penchant for perverted sex and portentous pronouncements. Of course it's a dangerous game, and exactly how dangerous becomes clear early on when the naked Greta is surprised by a peeping Tom at her window, who turns out to be the slow-witted, giant fisherman Rocco (Petar Martinovitch, who also had a bit part with Rosalba in the excellent Lady Frankenstein).

To calm the girl's nerves Eleanora gives her a glass of drugged liquor. The potent potable does its work too well, rendering Greta so lethargic and compliant that Lady Stuart can't resist taking advantage. There follows an extended (extending?) lesbonic assault from Eleanora, which Greta in her drug-induced dream-state is either powerless or unwilling to repel.

Take a just-out-of-the-oven chicken pot pie, toss its innards into a white-hot coal-burning furnace, and then dump that furnace into the bowels of an active volcano, and you're still only just approaching the incredible HAWTNESS of this scene.

I'm pretty sure there are no nipples in this pic, but feel free to examine it closely and let me know.

Greta scarcely has time to examine her...shall we say "complicated" feelings about what happened, as the next evening she finds herself attending one of the swingers' parties Sally warned her about. Sipping another glass of drugged whiskey, Greta joins the other guests for a peep at the Stuarts' home movies, which turn out to be independently produced porn. The feature presentation stars Sally as Little Red Riding Hood, here lured off the straight-and-narrow by a pantsless Italian Big Bad. Whether from the drugs, the visual stimulation, or the blood-boiling memories of the previous evening, Greta allows herself to be seduced again, letting slip in the throes of passion that she knows the Stuarts' former secretary--a fact that leads to a wonderfully villainous raised eyebrow from Rosalba and the hatching of a new power play by Richard.

Finally starting on her non-sex-related job duties the next day, Greta starts transcribing chapters Richard's left for her on his huge DICtation machine. Stenography turns to HORROR, however, as she listens to her boss describe a situation much like the one her friend detailed in her letters, only with MURDER at the end. Is this a veiled confession, or is the oversexed writer just screwing with her mind (for a change)? Disturbed, Greta extracts a key from Richard's desk and goes snooping in the cellar, where she finds Sally's clothes stashed in a trunk. She goes to the Venetian police, but when they return to search the study they find no tapes, no manuscript, and no key to the basement. Lacking hard evidence, Greta must stay on and learn more about the twisted pleasures that brought her friend to ruin, and for which she herself feels a strange, irrepressible desire...

Stern Italian Butler knows what you did, and is very disappointed in you.

I don't want to give away too much of how the mystery pans out, but suffice that it's twisty and turny and perverse enough to satisfy a fan of Italian sex thrillers such as I'm. What I would like to celebrate, however, are some of the assorted wonderful bits of the movie that have rocketed it up to #2 on my list of All-Time Favorite Rosalba Neri movies:

Rosalba's Wardrobe

Remember what I said about how you can always count on Rosalba to class things up with, among other things, her groovy, easily-droppable wardrobe? Well, I wasn't just whistlin' Dixie, parishioners. Put on a drool cloth and take a look at some of the fashions Rosalba sports here:

Looking at her gives me a funny feeling--it's either love, or vertigo.

In Serious Leather

"Please cover yourself--you are insufficiently groovy."

I'd drink her under the bar(s).

Bonus Eurobabes

You'd think that a stunningly beautiful, dominating screen presence like Rosalba would be more than enough primo Euroflesh for one movie, and you'd be right...however, Amuck! goes that extra mile by giving us a pair of bonus blonde Eurobabes in Barbara Bouchet and Patrizia Viotti, both of whom would make excellent main courses despite their relegation to side dishes here.*

Bouchet: Beautimus

Work it, Patty

"Tee-hee! Being this HOT makes me giddy!"

*Okay, so Bouchet is technically the star of the movie. But watch it and tell me Rosalba doesn't OWN this flick.

Euro Duck Hunt

This may be the only movie of its genre I've ever seen that has as its heroine-in-peril centerpiece an extended duck hunting sequence, complete with actual duck hunt stock footage showing the unfortunate fowl going down like Spitfires in the straights of Midway!

"I regret nothing!"

I don't know if the director was an enthusiast, or if he thought Duck Snuff was the next big thing, but it's something you don't see in Italian Sex Thrillers every day--probably with good reason. However, both Bouchet and Rosalba look awesome in their aristocratic hunting gear, it has to be said.

Camo would be a crime

Be vewwy quiet

When You Seduce the Tard, You Reap the Whirlwind

When I was speeding through the excellent Mill Creek 50 Chilling Classics set, I was amazed as many were to find a single disc on which three movies contained instances of what can tactfully be called Retard Seduction--hot women making sexual advances on slow-witted characters either out of cruelty, a sick sense of humor, or in the case of Lady Frankenstein, for SCIENCE!

Here Rosalba becomes my first double-inductee in the Retard Seduction club, as she uses her CONSIDERABLE feminine wiles to enlist Rocco's help in her and Richard's nefarious schemes.

As if THAT were necessary

Of course in almost every case the seduction of a 'tard carries grave karmic consequences, and it will surprise no one that this movie is no exception--however, a nice little Aesop's Fables nod in the climactic struggle made me smile, and say what you will about Rosalba, but no matter how big you are, disobey her orders and she will fucking cut you!

In closing, I LOVE THIS MOVIE. Rosalba's acting is great as always, as she plays the perverse, unhinged lady of the house to perfection. Farley's Richard Stuart is suitably deadpan and creepy, and Bouchet is so gorgeous to look at, any acting shortcomings went flying right over my head. There is a bit of silliness halfway through where out of nowhere Rosalba suddenly has an ESP fit, which comes to exactly nothing, and a bit of cruelty to eels that will disturb some PETA inclined folks (to say nothing of the duck snuff), but the good here far outweighs the bad imo.

"Dust Bowl? WTF?"

I can't really tell you why the American distributors retitled this one Amuck!--while it *is* an awesome word, and I'm always in support of exclamation points in movie names, no one really goes AMUCK in the flick, at least in the way I understand the term. (The literal translation of the Italian title, "In Search of Pleasure," is much closer to what the flick is about.) Still, it's sexy, twisted, and pretty to look at (even though my print was a damaged pan & scan version--we need a restored widescreen DVD, stat!), and I'm pleased to give it a 3 thumb rating. Highly recommended to all Mad Movie fans. See it!

"OBEY!"

MORE MADNESS...

Summary only...

Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill! (1965): or, Death Wears a D-Cup

"Ladies and Gentlemen: welcome TO VIOLENCE!"

So begin's Russ Meyers' 1965 cult classic Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill!, a movie camp cinema icon John Waters says is "beyond a doubt, the best movie ever made. It is possibly better than any film that will be made in the future." While not everyone--okay, maybe not anyone--shares Waters' peculiar cinematic sensibility, there's no denying that Meyers' film possesses a strange, almost alien power, undiminished more than forty years after it was made.

It's a movie that's not only critic-proof, but actively antagonistic to criticism. Like its protagonist/antagonist gang of Amazonian thrill-seekers, it laughs in the face of your rules. It refuses to behave. It's mad, bad, and dangerous to know. It's a threat, and it means business.

In fact, Faster Pussycat! Kill! Kill! is almost not a movie--it's a manifesto, a new mythology. Varla, Rosie, and Billie, with their larger-than-life attitudes, their heedless insatiable lust for thrills, and their murderous unconcern for others, would not be out of place among the fickle gods of Olympus, or clashing with the warlike deities of Asgard. These are not women walking across the screen--they are gods and heroes, and this is Meyers' Odyssey.

Come along for the ride.

After an amazing opening narration warning viewers to beware "dangerous packs of women!" we are thrown into a go-go club where rapacious, dog-like men are shouting at the women on stage to "Go-go, baby! Go-go!" The men don't seem to be enjoying themselves particularly--rather, there's a violence in their exhortations, a desperation in their eyes. What is clear here is that for all their bluster and bravado, these men are not nearly as powerful as the women who are driving them to frenzy--women who, as the movie goes on, we will learn are even more powerful and frightening than we can imagine.

Next we find ourselves out in the desert, watching the three girls from the go-go club as they race their powerful sports cars up and down the lonely arid highway. The roar of motors is mixed with their wild laughter, and Meyers establishes the fast-paced, kinetic visual style that has since been imitated and parodied by the likes of Waters and Quentin Tarantino, among others.

*speechless*

The girls are led by Varla (Tura Satana), a terrifying Amazon with straight black hair, a black jumpsuit, and the high black boots of a dominatrix. Her stylized, cat-like eye makeup and stone-cold, contemptuous sneer immediately establish her as a woman you do NOT want to piss off. Her major domo is Rosie (Haji), an exotic beauty with a Mario Brothers-level Italian accent that will have viewers laughing when their mouths aren't agape. Rounding out the group is Billie (Lori Williams), the vivacious blonde who isn't shy about testing Varla's authority.

After a few turns the girls head off to a time track in what looks like a salt lake bed, stopping along the way for Billie to take a fully-clothed swim (the opposite of skinny-dipping, but strangely no less erotic) and to engage in a catfight with Rosie in the sand that magically disappears from their clothing a scene later. Varla watches it all with magisterial contempt, like Genghis Khan suffering the frivolity of his horde. These scenes seem less designed to establish character than to build a world for these characters to inhabit--one of violence, sexuality, and frenzied reasonless activity in the name of "getting your kicks." Oh, what a wonderful world.

If you know anything about Russ Meyer you'll know that he's perhaps most infamous for his obsession with larger-than-life women bearing larger-than-life breasts, and here his infamy is honestly earned. Varla, Rosie, and Billie are nearly always shot from low angles, which makes them seem gigantic, towering over the viewer, and also accentuates the size of their frankly astonishing breasts. In the days before implants the shapes of these women are truly amazing, and the way Meyers shoots them turns their bounteous femininity into something both beautiful and dangerous. You get the feeling that each of them, Varla most especially, could crush any man like a bug under her heel, and their enormous breasts are simply manifestations of that frightening, alluring power. These are not women you desire--these are women you surrender to.

I give up, Varla! Please don't hurt me!
(Okay, maybe just a little...)

It's not long before the Pussycats are joined at the time track by Tommy and Linda, two straight-laced, wholesome, All-American kids who have no idea what danger they've just fallen into. Tommy wants to see if his fine-tuning on his car will result in a faster time around the track, which leads Varla to scoff at someone who thinks he can win anything racing against a stopwatch. His virility called into question, Tommy accepts Varla's challenge for a race around the track, which she wins by fighting the only way she knows how--dirty. Afterwards Tommy ill-advisedly confronts Varla, which leads to an amazing fight scene between him and the Amazon goddess that ends when Varla puts her boot to the vanquished male's back and snaps his spine like a dry stick! Linda faints and the Pussycats dispose of Tommy's body and car and take it on the lam, bringing Linda along for an unclear sinister purpose.

When they stop for gas in the next town, Varla sees a hugely muscled hulk of a young man carrying his crippled father back to their truck (after loading a fifty-gallon drum of gasoline as though it were a sack of pecan shells). She learns from a helpful grease monkey that the old man used to work for the railroad and was crippled in an accident when he tried to save a young woman from being crushed by a train. The muscleman is his son, nicknamed "The Vegetable" because despite his god-like physique he is completely retarded.

The Vegetable just loves the smell of...oh, never mind.

The attendant further informs the girls that the old man is rumored to have lots of money from the railroad settlement, doesn't trust banks, and lives out in the desert miles away from anyone; furthermore, he's such a crotchety old cuss that nobody much likes him in town, and "If he disappeared tomorrow, nobody around here would miss him!" Not one to argue with Fate, Varla quickly determines to go out the old man's ranch, find the money, and get back on the road several thousand dollars richer. Linda will serve as the lynchpin to a convoluted cover story that is neither believable nor important. The important thing is for the girls to get out to the ranch, and that's exactly what they do.

But the family at the ranch are not to be innocent victims. We learn quickly that the Old Man, embittered by his paralysis, is using his musclebound son to exact a perverse vengeance on all females, as presumably the barren, junk-strewn wasteland of the ranch is also strewn with the corpses of unfortunate women. "We're payin' them back," he tells the Vegetable, "Each woman a payment!" The Old Man's older son Kirk (Paul Trinka, who sounds a lot more like Paul Anka) is not involved in the scheme, but only stays on at the ranch out of a feeling of duty toward his father and protectiveness for his massive, mentally challenged younger brother.

So that's the plot--Varla and the Pussycats try to weasel the location of the money out of the Old Man and his sons while Linda tries to escape from her captors' clutches, only to find that the Old Man is nowhere near a savior. There are many great set-pieces in here, from the Pussycats' scheming while showering at an old water tower (!) to Rosie's attempts to seduce The Vegetable (Yet another instance of retard seduction!) to both Varla and Linda throwing themselves at the kind-hearted but weak Kirk, with varying levels of success. But the best of the lot is an absolutely amazing dinner scene that lacks only the cannibalism angle to rival the perverseness of Tobe Hooper's dinner scene in the original Texas Chainsaw Massacre! Truly a weird, wild movie, and a visual feast.

The old man's reflexes were too slow; the girls
already had their buttocks cocked and loaded.

It all barrels forward to an expected confrontation and resolution, but the plot here is much less important than the individual scenes and images that make it up. Meyers frames every scene like the panel of a comic book, with the girls usually in the positions of superheroes--again using the low angles and long-perspective shots to make them seem 10 feet tall and bulletproof. It's hard for me to tell whether Meyers was consciously imitating superhero comics with his camera work, or if comics since have imitated Meyers, but either way, it's gorgeous to look at. In fact, if there hasn't been a graphic novelization of Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill!, I will tell you right now that it's LONG overdue. Hell, just take stills from the movie and add speech bubbles. Bang, you're done.

And I haven't even mentioned what would be inside those speech bubbles! As I said before, Meyers is not telling a grittily realistic dramatic tale here; just as everyone looks larger than life, the dialogue also smacks of superhero comic exposition, with some of the campiest, most quotable lines in movie history. For instance:

Varla: "I never try anything. I just DO IT [...] Wanna try me?"

Tommy (after Varla karate-chops his wrist): "You got a weird sense of humor."
Varla (defiantly): "Try again--I get funnier!"

Grease Monkey (staring at Varla's cleavage): "That's what I believe in--see America first."
Varla: "You won't find it down there, Columbus!"

But I really can't do justice to the music of this movie's dialog in textual form. If you've ever enjoyed the cadence of character speech in a John Waters movie or guffawed through the hilarious Girls Will Be Girls (also highly recommended), you'll recognize immediately what those filmmakers were imitating and parodying. But here it's played straight, and is a hundred times more wonderful. The off-kilter dialog, the comic book visual sensibility, and the smoldering, dangerous, completely perverse sexuality of the whole thing just leaps off the screen like a race car off the starting line, right into your face and heart.

Auto-eroticism

And enough cannot be said about Tura Satana's legend-making turn as Varla. She is not only the most wickedly funny, frightening, and powerful female villain I've ever seen on film--she's easily in the top three cinematic villains of all time regardless of sex. By the end I found myself rooting for her because of her refusal to accept anything less than everything she wants, and for her ruthlessness in pursuing her single-minded goal. Powerful, sexy, pitiless: Meyers was trying to start a new religion, I think, and Satana--Varla--is his goddess.

This movie defies rating. There's so much more I could say about sex-role reversal, gender antagonism, De Sadean notions of vice vs. virtue, and many other topic that could fill a dozen movie books. Suffice to say it's essential, required, absolutely unmissable, and the apotheosis of what a Mad Mad Mad Mad Movie should be. See it at your earliest opportunity, by hook or by crook. And bow down at the feet of your new gods.

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Lady Frankenstein (1971): or, She Only Wants You For Your Body

After watching Lady Frankenstein (aka La Fagila di Frankenstein) on my Mill Creek 50 Chilling Classics set, I just had one burning question: why?

WHY IN THE HOLY HELL HAD NO ONE EVER TOLD ME ABOUT THIS MOVIE?

Of course I'd heard of the movie before, but with a name like Lady Frankenstein, I'd expected something silly and worthless a la Frankenstein's Daughter Meets Jesse James--and the poster art, featuring an evening gown-clad big-boobed blonde among laboratory equipment, didn't help matters much. But behind the boobs of that blonde was in fact a FANTASTIC Frankenstein movie with great production values, real Hammer-esque atmosphere, an engaging story carried by charismatic actors, and a script with a perverse streak a freakin' MILE WIDE.

FOR THE LOVE OF THE MODERN PROMETHEUS, WHY?!?!?!

An aged Joseph Cotten plays Baron Frankenstein, who after 20 years is on the cusp of realizing his dream of reanimating dead flesh. He and his elderly assistant Charles spend the first few minutes of the film paying slimy, disreputable graverobbing types to collect the raw materials for their final push toward immortality. While Paul Muller as Charles does a great job as the loyal henchman and voice of reason, it has to be said that the much esteemed Cotten is pretty terrible as the mad doctor. At first I wondered if Cotten was interpreting the doctor's character as an alcoholic; later it became clear to this viewer that Cotten was, in all probability, ACTUALLY DRUNK during most of his scenes. Still, the period sets are very well done, the lab looks great, and the build-up to the creation scene is economical, fast-moving, and very well done.

"Yech. I've gotta find a new place to hide my gin."

On the eve of the Baron's triumph over death, however, his daughter Tania shows up for an ill-timed visit. Tania Frankenstein is played by Rosabela Neri, known to her American fans and credited here as Sara Bey, and she is SMOKIN' HAWT. Far from being just a pretty face, however, Neri is immediately believable as the intelligent, driven daughter of a man of science, a sexy apple that has not fallen far from the mad scientist tree. She's just completed her anachronistic training to become a surgeon, and has returned home hoping to help her dear old dad in whatever blasphemous experiments he might happen to be engaged in this week. The tipsy Cotten refuses her help, however, and forbids her entry to the lab until his results are ready for peer-review and publication.

Charles is quite a bit happier to see Tania, though, as the dirty old man has apparently had a thing for her ever since she was a wee bairn and he a middle-aged lab tech. (Eew.) Of course now that she's grown up into a ridiculously sexy mad scientesse...well, let's just say the lab isn't the only place where dead flesh is being resurrected. (Eew x 2.)

Meanwhile, Lynch the graverobber is being hounded by Captain Harris, played with hardboiled enthusiasm by Mickey Hargitay. It seems some of the bodies Lynch delivered to Castle Frankenstein might have been a bit fresher than was strictly legal, and Harris wants him to swing for it. Though the muscle-bound Hargitay is perhaps best known as "Mr. Jayne Mansfield," here he's very impressive as the tenacious, no-nonsense police inspector on Lynch's trail. And Lynch--played by the hilariously yet appropriately named Herbert Fux--is just the apotheosis of the slimy, too-clever-by-half lower-class degenerate, street smart and cracking wise, confident he can stay one step ahead of any flatfoot from the constabulary. The scenes between Hargitay and Fux are so great, you can almost forget there's a monster mash a brewin'.

"What the fuck do you mean, 'Is there a
mirror in her pocket?' "

But brewin' it is, and when a sudden storm blows up, Baron Von Bottlesucker is ready to call down the thunder and bring his creation to life. When the creature's brain is damaged during the last-minute transplant (brains has got to be fresh), Charles sensibly wants to call the whole thing off, but naturally the Baron is having none of that nonsense. He presses forward, with predictably disastrous results.

A few words about the creature here. Though the set designs, costumes, and makeup to this point in the movie have been nothing short of top-notch, the monster is one of the dumbest-looking in the entire subgenre, and that includes the 7-ft Chuckie doll in Roger Corman's Frankenstein Unbound. This creature has a head like a Metaluna Mu-Tant, an orange shirt, and the ugliest pair of form-fitting vertically-striped pants I've ever seen on an animated conglomeration of dead body parts. He's ugly, too--but only because during the reanimation a stray spark catches his face ON FIRE. Though I wasn't a fan of the creature design, I had to appreciate the creative effort to explain the creature's disfigurement. So that allays some of the silliness. But not much.

Monster goofiness aside, the creation sequence is one of the better ones I've seen in a Frankenstein movie, very exciting and well-realized, second perhaps only to the wonderful stuff in the old Universal flicks. Sensing how silly he looks in those pants, the newborn monster wastes no time going on an kill-crazy rampage, starting with the man that dressed him, Baron Frankenstein himself. The creature crushes him like a wine grape--probably releasing twice as much alcohol in the process--and then heads out to the countryside to find some villagers to dismember.

It's here that the movie starts to get pervy, and in the most wonderful way possible. Out of nowhere we find ourselves in an idyllic nature scene by a rushing river. Nearby, and buck-naked Eurobabe basks in the sunlight, attended to by a half-naked Euroboy with love on his mind. Alas, we barely have time to exclaim "Whoa! Funbags!" before the Creature rumbles in and tears the loverboy limb from limb. Then the monster picks up the screaming young lass, and in an homage so beautiful it brought tears to my eyes, lumbers over to the water and tosses her in, recreating exactly the "flower boats" scene from the Karloff classic, except with no flowers and a naked Eurobabe instead of a little girl.

Yep, now you know what kind of party this is. Where are the mashed potatoes?

Keep your eye out for this guy.

Meanwhile Charles has told Tania about the disaster in the lab, and shows her the Baron's body, still leaking whiskey all over the laboratory floor. But Tania is not one to sob and faint--her thoughts immediately turn to science, and vengeance! Realizing that the monster will be unstoppable by conventional means, she resolves immediately to create a SECOND monster to hunt down the first--or, in her own words: "Not a monster--an executioner! Our creature will kill my father's murderer!" Tania, I love your can...I mean, your can-do attitude. Let's get it on!

It seems Charles is thinking the same thing I was, because he immediately professes his love for Tania and willingness to help her do anything, as long as she might someday love him back. The movie's pervy streak continues to broaden as we see Tania eyeing the stable-boy Thomas, who is muscular but also completely retarded. Charles plaintively asks the Baroness, "Could you love me?" "Yes," she replies, "if you looked like Thomas!"

The vengeance plan is quickly revised to accomodate the pervy plan as well: Charles agrees to help Tania create a monster using Thomas's body, if she will put Charles's brain in it, thus giving him the raw sex appeal he needs to be her lover. Charles and Tania are quickly married to seal the deal, though the marriage is unconsummated so long as he's a wrinkly old coot.

Meanwhile the monster's rampage continues. What the Creature lacks in sinister looks and fashion sense he more than makes up for in sheer viciousness, as we are treated to several brutal murders which the villagers are powerless to stop, despite some very spirited resistance. Soon Captain Harris is questioning Tania and Charles about their abrupt nuptuals, the Baron's death, and the sudden rash of crushings and pullings apart in the neighboring village, but they play dumb.

What happens next must go down in the annals of Mad Movies as one of the greatest mad scientist body-procurement scenes in cinematic history. Tania uses her feminine whiles to lure the retarded Thomas into her bedroom, where she sheds her gown and corset and makes a man of him. Neri's acting has been great throughout, but here she totally commits to her role by getting completely naked and letting the audience feast its eyes on her heart-breakingly stunning gorgeousness. To be that beautiful AND talented--it hardly seems fair. But at least we get to see her ride the 'tard like a thoroughbred, so that's something.

Risking unemployment to bring this to the world.
It's totally worth it.

Meanwhile, Tania's new husband is watching the whole thing from the closet, getting angrier as the sex gets hotter. Finally he can stand it no more, and creeps out to smother the hapless handicapped helper in mid-coitus. (Minimal damage to the body that way.) Solidifying the film's grasp on the title "PERVIEST FRANKENSTEIN MOVIE EVAR," Thomas expires underneath the Baroness WHILE SHE ACHIEVES ORGASM! Ho-lee shit. I still can't believe they went there, and I've watched that scene at least a dozen times.

After a peak like that it's bound to go downhill, and in short order Charles's brain is in Thomas's bod (and his larynx as well, from the sound of his voice), the torch-bearing mob is finally zeroing in on the Castle, and the first Creature, enraged by sibling rivalry, returns to do battle with his better-looking little brother. The final battle doesn't take too long, as Charles/Thomas triumphs over Egghead McIrate and claims Tania for his prize. Tania, overwhelmed by joy at her success in both mad science and revenge (not to mention way turned-on by her monster-man's manliness) falls into his arms even while the mob sets the castle ablaze, as mobs are wont to do.

Hargitay catches the couple in literal flagrante delicto, and the film reel runs out, apparently, as there is a super-abrupt ending with no credits, in mid-tussle. I can only assume this is a bad cut in the print and the the theatrical version went on at least a few more seconds; however, my limited internet research suggests that this is the way ALL the prints end, so either it was intentional or this is the best surviving print we've got.

I LOVE THIS MOVIE.

Sara Bey achieves the impossible by
getting EVEN HOTTER.

It's not without its failings--the monster is dumb looking, as I said, and Cotten slurring his way through his lines is frankly embarrassing, especially if you're familiar with the esteemed actor's other work. There's some weird editing with jump-cuts, though how many of these are due to print damage or censors I can't tell (though I can't imagine what they would have censored, considering what they left in). And if you look carefully in an early scene, you can catch a glimpse of a crew member in Tania's mirror! Still, for someone like me, that just adds to the charm.

And the plus column WAY outweighs the negative. I'm an official Rosabela Neri fan club member now--not only is she gorgeous, she's a great actress, pulling off the driven mad scientist role well, and also lending depth with her portrayal as a woman who will use her mind as well as her body to achieve her perverse goals. Hargitay is great, Fux is great, the set designs and costumes are great--hell, even the dubbing isn't all that bad. Plenty of blood, plenty of nekkidity, and loads and loads of fun all add up to my new favorite non-Karloff-starring Frankenstein movie, period.

6 thumbs, and more if you're a perv like me. Get yourself a copy of this, pronto. Thank me later.

PS--as if I needed another reason to praise the 50 Chilling Classics set, I was stunned that somebody working for Mill Creek put this, Devil Times Five, and Funeral Home all on one disc--and ALL THREE have scenes where a mentally challenged character is seduced by a manipulative older woman. A trilogy of 'tard seduction! It had to be intentional on some DVD author's part, and for that, whoever you are, I thank you. I hope Mill Creek gave you a nice fat bonus.

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