Thursday, August 4, 2011

Beneath the Valley of the Ultra-Vixens

***DISCLAIMER*** The following review is entirely my opinion. If you comment (which I encourage you to do) be respectful. If you don't agree with my opinion, that's fine. To each their own. I am just sharing my opinions and perspective. Finally, the reviews are given on a scale of 1-5. 1, of course, being terrible. 2, being not great. 3, being okay. 4, being good and 5, being epic!

Beneath the Valley of the Ultra-Vixens - 1 out of 5

I'm not a fan of Russ Meyer because skin flicks don't entertain me. I love the female form and really love it when it lacks clothing but gratuitous nudity doesn't do it for me when I watch a film and gratuitous nudity is what Meyer was all about. While I don't enjoy his films, I do recommend you read the biography on the man because he lead an interesting life. Anyway, film critic Roger Ebert is a big fan of Meyer and, like most critics, he was a failed writer who somehow was able to get together with the filmmaker who had a molester-stache before the molester-stache was in and started to write some movies for him. Then, in continuing with the failed writer aspect of his life, the movies he wrote with Meyer only had an impact on the cult culture and never launch Ebert into Hollywood as a legitimate film writer so he did what was expected of him, he became a jaded and angry film critic who tears down other people's movie despite the fact the movies he wrote were utter crap. Now I fully realize that my blog is me critiquing movies and sometime I'm downright scathing but the reality is that while a part of me is bathed in hypocrisy, a larger part of me isn't out to make it in Hollywood as a writer.

If I saw these two driving around in a windowless van, I wouldn't be surprised.

Beneath the Valley of the Ultra-Vixens went on to become Meyer's final theatrical release and what he churned out was a film that felt more like a spastic colon, firing fecal matter all over the celluloid rather than a piece of work that resembles some sort of organization. The story is, if you can keep up with it as the editing seems to have been done by someone with a short attention span, seems to be about a sex starved wife who has a husband that has a problem...mainly he likes to anal rape any female he can get his hands on. In an effort to get some regular, mom and pop style vaginal sex from her man, this woman takes a job as a stripper and when that fails (how could that plan not have worked?) decides to take her husband to a large breasted radio preacher who goes to use her faith healing on the butt raper. How does she faith heal him? By raping him. That's right, this film is sour with the theme of rape--the wife even does her share of raping as she forces herself on an underage boy.

Okay, I'm not going to get Freudian on this film and suggest that Roger Ebert gets off on rape fantasies but I will say this: Seeing what he writes and helped bring to the silver screen, I now understand why he hates nearly every film that he reviews. It's because he has a very, VERY specific film style he enjoys. But the one thing this movie (and I plan on watching another Russ Meyer and Ebert collaboration; Beyond the Valley of the Dolls because I'm a glutton for torture) taught me is that I can't take Ebert seriously as a critic.

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