Sunday, March 27, 2005

The Touch of Her Flesh (1967)

Slimy grindhouse classick -- the slasher film in its nascent form -- about a weapons dealer who goes nutzoid after seeing his wife making rumpy-pumpy with some skinny dweeb. To its credit, it delivers exactly what it promises: naked, extremely voluptuous women in states of undress and murder setpieces. (Regarding the former: It's quite impressive the caliber of women the Findlays were able to round up -- at times, this looks like the evil cousin of a Russ Meyer flick. One in an alternate universe where Russ had no talent, but still.) Too bad it also delivers a lot of other things, like piss-poor acting and padding up the ying-yang and boredom aplenty. Granted, that describes practically everything that played the 42nd Street circuit, so it's just a matter of degrees. But even by those standards, there's better options.

Grade: C-

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