The revered film critic Pauline Kael once wrote that “movies are so rarely great art, that if we cannot appreciate great trash, we have very little reason to be interested in them.” This statement seems to be exemplified by Russ Meyer’s Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill! (1965), a film that gross-out guru and iconoclast John Waters says is the greatest movie ever made. Meyer is a director who is more discussed than seen in my circle, and I would imagine this to be the case in many other social groups as well. This was my first of his films, and while I’m given to believe that this is one of his better efforts, I must admit that I feel that the public perception of Meyer, at least what I’ve heard, is misleading. Yes, this film is laden with large-breasted women in skimpy outfits. Yes, it is exploitation to its core. But Faster, Pussycat! isn’t just a pathetic excuse to expose some skin onto celluloid. It doesn’t play like a sex movie, and anyone who’d fantasize about its female lead would have to be certifiable.
“Ladies and Gentlemen – welcome to violence” sneers a narrator as visual manifestations of his statement dance across a black screen. This opening monologue, one of the film’s true joys, is accompanied only by the accumulating sound wave graphics, which seem to form a crude line of prison bars as the unseen voice warns (somewhat facetiously) against the dangers of the newly liberated woman. Then, with clever editing, the audience is transported to an almost featureless go-go club, where male patrons leer at the soon-to-be protagonists. Quickly the scene changes as the three women, now out of their dancing costumes and into ensembles only slightly less revealing, tear through the desert in their supercharged sports cars. Meyer may have been a man whose meanings will be endlessly discussed, but here he makes it clear; these chicks are out for kicks. Also clear is the power structure within the group. The raven-haired and black clad Varla (Tura Satana) calls the shots. Her right hand woman is fellow brunette Rosie (Haji), and the blonde Billie (Lori Williams) is along for the ride. Dissention in the ranks is exposed, and dealt with, early, when Billie decides to take an impromptu detour for a dip in a roadside lake. This leads to the film’s first of many catfights and a challenge to a Rebel without a Cause-esque game of chicken to be officiated by the incensed Varla. Of course this set-up begs several questions. Where were the girls in such a rush to in the first place? And why all of the sudden do they have time for a chicken contest when the brief swim was such an offense? But such inquiries seem rather pointless only six and a half minutes into Faster, Pussycat!, and I wisely choose to ignore them.
The drag race between the two underlings leads to a meeting on the salt flats with an amateur racer and his teeny-bopper girlfriend. Relations between the women are friendly enough at first, but when challenges are issued by the boyfriend, temperatures quickly rise. The outcome seems almost inevitable, but the film successfully navigates the potholes of walking the audience through the paces by keeping the resulting fight interesting with an energetic soundtrack, before the boyfriend lies dead on the ground. Varla doesn’t hesitate to drug the young girl, and soon the whole female tribe is off again with their kidnapped cargo in tow.
This incident is just the set-up for the larger payoff of Meyer’s masterpiece. When a gas station attendant informs the trio of women that a local eccentric has a stash of cash buried somewhere on his property, the real fun begins. Yes, there’s a contrived plot at work here, but the execution is superb. With the script, Meyer does his best to balance the quick tongue lashings and the moments where they’re planted squarely in his character’s cheeks. The black and white pallet he works from as a director is spot on, as color would muddle this material. It’s low budget for low budget’s sake, and it works just right. All of these elements, along with terrific performances from actors who understand the tone of this material, are complimented by Paul Sawtell and Bert Shefter’s energetic jazz score, which paces the film with bravado.
What is interesting here is the role reversal. This time it’s the would-be sex objects who take control of the picture. Are they out for sex? Maybe. Are they prone to violence? Certainly yes. They seem intent on getting both on their own terms though, and for a film made in 1965, those are some awfully progressive ideas. Meyer may have liked big breasts, but he certainly didn’t care for their being attached to weak willed women.
Faster, Pussycat! is without a doubt an influential film. Everything from The Rocky Horror Picture Show (1975) to Death Proof (2007) has some roots here. However, unlike many of the films it inspired (I’m looking at you Mr. Waters and Mr. Tarantino) Faster, Pussycat! doesn’t have a gag-inducing goal. It’s just pure fun. No, I can’t argue that it’s high art. But it is just the kind of trash that movie fans should treat themselves to from time to time, and for that I loved it.
Language: English
Runtime: 83 minutes
Available @youtube.com
Grade: 4 Hats Off
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