Beneath the Valley of the Ultra-Vixens (1979)

Touches You

Fantastic!

Admirable film.

Exactly the movie you think it is, but not the movie you want it to be.

With his final big-screen movie, the Sergei Eisenstein of skin- flicks, Russ Meyer, festoons Beyond the Valley of The Ultra-Vixens with his usual cynical and scornful look at small-town Americana. With the birth of video-tape and audiences preferences leaning in favour of penetrative, hard-core porn, Meyer bowed out with dignity, refusing to bow down to audience demand and lower himself to such a cheap and easy form of entertainment (although he would briefly return over twenty years later with Pandora Peaks (2001)). All the Meyer traits are here - blockhead male chauvinists, sex-mad townsfolk, a grizzled narrator, women blessed in the mammary gland area - and are loosely stringed together in what makes up the 'story'.Set in the small town of, er, Small Town, USA, our narrator, The Man From Small Town USA (Stuart Lancaster), shows us all it's wacky inhabitants. There's a well-endowed evangelical radio preacher (Ann Marie) who has sex inside of a coffin, a man-eating junk-yard owner (June Mack), and a randy dentist/marriage counsellor (Robert E. Pearson). In the centre of it all is the beautiful, big-breasted Lavonia (Kitten Natividad) and her lug-head husband Lamar (Ken Kerr). They are happy enough, only Lavonia's unquenchable thirst for sex and Lamar's preference to 'entering through the back door' means that they must find themselves before they can finally 'come together'. Co-written with Roger Ebert, Beyond the Valley of the Ultra-Vixens is less a story and more a collection of comic, fruity vignettes. Some of sharp, energetic and funny, others can be plodding. The satire is less sharp here than in his better movies, for instance Beyond the Valley of the Dolls (1970) or Up! (1976), but his admiration of the female form is possibly clearer here than any of his other movies. He's often called anti-feminist, but, with Meyer, it's the women who hold all the power, outwitting and overpowering the numb-nut males, even raping one, a 14-year old boy I may add, in one scene. He certainly doesn't seem to mind though. It's often delightful and even titillating, but ultimately lacks the sharpness and daring of Meyer's best work.www.the-wrath-of-blog.blogspot.com

Beneath the Valley is one of Meyer's better known works, largely due to its broader distribution, over-indulgence of feminine beauty and crass humor. These are all time-honored features of Meyer in his films, but as his last feature (Pandora Peaks typically isn't counted in terms of conventional Meyer timeline), everything gets laid on extra thick. Meyer tests the boundaries of just how far he can go before the viewer reaches sensory overload. Nonetheless the impeccable Kitten Natividad and the often unmentioned, but still unforgettable Ann Marie stay true to Meyer fashion and manage to suck in the viewer while Meyer dishes out social taboos and common problems associated with the modern couple. Nobody is safe from his scathing satire. The homosexual professional, the self-defeating redneck and the two-faced nature of radio/TV evangelism all get a thorough walloping in this film. This film also serves as the epitome of Meyer's work with photography and cinematography. His virtually-patented "up through the bed springs" shots are unmistakable and this film serves as the perfect showcase and record of this unique, yet effective technique. Never before has any director opted to shoot the love scene from the mattresses point of view! Although this film does indeed lack in comparison to Supervixens or Up! as one of Meyer's late '70s style flicks in terms of dramatic story complexity, it's still Russ Meyer, and that alone makes the film worthwhile.

This is a godawful movie. A pathetic swansong for Russ Meyer. It's hard to believe this is the same guy who brought us Faster, Pussycat! Russ eventually decided to swap his stylish penchant for sex and violence for what I suppose is meant to be a sex comedy with some 'social commentary' thrown in.You would think, wouldn't you, that a movie which has Martin Borman having sex in a coffin, sex at a baptism, rape within marriage, pedophilia, incest and endless nudity including about 30 minutes of Kitten Natividad waving her tits about would somehow manage to be provocative or outrageous. It's not. It's just really boring. I saw it when it came out, and it was boring then, too. At the end of the movie, when the narrator inexplicably walks in on his fourteen year old son screwing his Austrian wife (why Austrian?), and decides he wants a bit of junior too, you ought to be shocked, right? Nope. You just think "What the f**k is the point of this scene? What's the point of any of this?"The feeling I get all the way through this movie is that Meyer is trying to show John Waters a trick or two. Forget it. Compare this rubbish with Water's hilarious 'Polyester', from the same year, which is far more outrageous, funny and subversive, and didn't even cop an R rating. Come to think of it, I think Divine is probably sexier than half the women in this film. The Christian radio announcer with the absurdly large breasts who goes on and on and on and on in scene after scene is so excruciatingly tedious that I just had to hit fast forward whenever she started up. The endless bonking, screaming and bad music will set your teeth on edge.Alright, are there any redeeming features in this movie? Well, there is one - count it - one - slightly memorable line. The two white trash junkyard workers who are 'bitterly envious of the lower classes', but God, if that's the best he can do...There is a thing with colour. People keep bleeding weird colours. But Meyer is no Peter Greenaway. The Uncle Tom black character bleeds white, which might have been subtle, if one of the characters didn't heavy-handedly point it out to us in case we missed it. Similarly, the one potentially clever scene in the whole movie - where the main male character gets locked in a closet by a gay marriage therapist - is ruined by the latter character telling him to 'get out of my closet' about fourteen times. Besides which, I'm not sure why why we should infer from said male lead's preference for anal sex with his wife, that he's a closet gay anyway.I can only conclude that Meyer had completely lost his talent by this stage. He's never made another movie (except some recent DTV thing apparently), and frankly, who cares?

Maybe it's because it was the first Russ Meyer movie that I had ever seen, but I happen to think that it is also his best. Because of this movie, I cannot hear the song OLD-TIME RELIGION without getting dirty thoughts. Sadly, most of the women who have appeared in this movie have never been heard from again (Anne Marie, June Mack, Sharon Hill) and I would like to know if anyone knows whatever became of them. Especially Marie, since she is a local girl. At any rate, this is just a plain, good, old-fashioned, dirty time at the movies. Since this year marks the twentieth anniversary of the movie, I wonder if there will be any special occasions to commemorate the event.