Saturday, January 2, 2016

Beneath the Valley of the Ultra-Vixens

Beneath the Valley of the Ultra-Vixens; erotic grotesque, USA, 1979; D: Russ Meyer, S: Kitten Natividad, Ken Kerr, Ann Marie, June Mack, Pat Wright, Uschi Digard

People in a small town are having sex at their homes. All except the busty Lavonia, whose husband Lamar either does not want to have sex or he only wants anal sex, which she despises. She thus decides to find pleasure with other men, like with a teenager who was swimming naked in a lake or a door-to-door salesman. In the meantime, Lamar has a tough time at work in the junk yard, since his superior, the equally busty Sal, orders him to sleep with her. Lavonia disguises herself wearing a wig and dancing in a striptease bar, where she puts a sedative in Lamar's drink and later has sex with him while he is unconscious. A marriage counsellor does not help, either. Finally, after Lamar has sex with a busty evangelical radio host, Lamar can have normal sex with Lavonia again.

Russ Meyer's last film got the most sex scenes out of him, but arguably the least creativity or imagination out of the author as well. Among the curiosities of this bizarre erotic satire is also that is was co-written by film critic Roger Ebert, and a few comical lines indeed manage to ignite here and there, such as when the narrator illustrates that a character had such a large penis that he needed a "firearms license", or the fact that the two main protagonists, Lamar and his wife Lavonia, are much more likable, sympathetic characters than some of Meyer's more violent previous films. Nonetheless, "Beneath the Valley of the Ultra-Vixens" is an incoherent, episodic satire on the marriage and sexual problems, with too many wacky moments, some of which are just plain silly, to assemble itself into a meaningful whole. The opening act, where Lavonia is "jumping" and touching herself with a vibrator all alone, naked in bed, while at the same time her Lamar is just passively sitting in the next room, calculating a homework at his desk, is ironic in its blend of two opposites, the sexual and asexual, yet Meyer never treats them as real characters, but just as caricatures. The vague plot goes from one sex sequence to another, yet without much of a point, though Meyer once again rallied some beautiful buxom women here, from Kitten Natividad up to Ann Marie, in a crazy little role as a evangelical radio host with large breasts. It seems all the wit was once again absorbed only by Meyer's breasts, though the film has its moments.


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