Beneath the Valley of the Ultra-Vixens (1979)

For about twenty minutes, it's Russ Meyer's best film -- a distillation of everything that drives his creative impulse into one gargantuan, frenzied package. But the film doesn't know when to stop; by the hour mark, it's clear that all its good ideas have been exhausted, and with it all of the director's inspiration. Seems fitting that it's Meyer's final proper film, as he has nothing new or interesting to say and resorts to padding out the film with endless, repetitive sex scenes that go nowhere and do nothing. The real pisser is that there was a different, better film that could have been struggling to get out -- if the opening scene had led into a perverse satire of fascism and fanaticism instead of the dull musical-beds photoplay that it is, it could have been brilliant. But no... instead, we get to watch as Meyer loses complete control over his muse. Even the women aren't terribly attractive. (Kitten Natividad may have been a popular burlesque star, and she may have had a stunning body, but goddamn her face is busted.)

Grade: C