Beneath The Valley Of The Ultra Vixens [1979] [DVD]

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The pseudo documentary style of this production does require a bit of initial thought and while there is a degree of humour it is more of a sly grin than side splitting laughter.

So terrified of anyone blinking on his watch, his films are cross cut in a dizzying manner, presaging the modern action films of a John Woo or Michael Bay. I mean, we shot inside, and we'd forgo lunch and have sex–wonderful, riotous, noisy sex… laughing and scratching. The single greatest thing about this picture, though, is the phenomenal narration by Stuart Lancaster, written with Meyer's signature verbosity (aided in great part, I think, by Roger Ebert's screenwriting). His montage is an epileptic strobe effect, a Picasso painting simultaneously depicting different points of view on the same plane.Lamar lies inside a water-filled bathtub as a robe wearing Eufaula Roop stands above him and baptizes (and almost drowns) him.

Dustier and older, but still there waiting for Russ to re-appear, jump in the driver’s seat, stomp on the gas, and head for a spartan shoot in the desert hills. If you're familiar at all with Russ Meyer's work, you know to expect 1) really big breasts and 2) bizarre filmmaking with strange plots and weird imagery.

The narrator heads off to his own home, where the teen-aged Rhett, his son, has sex with the narrator's huge-breasted younger Austrian wife, SuperSoul ( Uschi Digard), during an earthquake. At the side of the building sat Russ’ weights bench, just a few yards from a still pristinely-maintained pool. And yet, despite his movies’ box office success, compounded by cheap-as-chips budgets, Russ’ career was like his house: situated beneath the Hollywood mainstream, in a barely noticed sub-genre under the shadow of glamorous moviedom.