***½/**** Image A Sound A Extras A
starring Dolly Read, Cynthia Myers, Marcia Mc Broom, John La Zar
screenplay by Roger Ebert
directed by Russ Meyer
by Travis Mackenzie Hoover There's no point in whitewashing the career of Russ Meyer. Latter-day critics have tried to float the filmmaker/satirist/horndog as some kind of feminist despite much evidence to the contrary, and though against-the-grain readings are possible, really, who are we kidding? Similarly, his Beyond the Valley of the Dolls is loaded with all sorts of attitudes most thinking adults would rather like to forget, including a streak of homophobia that resonates as slightly nasty. But with Meyer, it's impossible to separate an actual position from a sitting duck–and that confusion is what makes his films so uniquely mind-blowing. His fake morality tales blow up the very notion of morality, to the point where his less noble conceits are torpedoed with everything else.
Take Beyond the Valley of the Dolls (hereafter BVD). Where the "original" film was an entirely serious piece of unknowing camp that doggedly pursued a shrill and rigid morality, the allegedly unconnected BVD is entirely conscious camp that shreds the whole notion of doing good. The buxom members of The Carrie Nations–vocal/guitarist Kelly MacNamara (Dolly Read), bassist Casey Anderson (Cynthia Myers), and drummer Petronella "Pet" Danforth (Marcia McBroom)–are wide-eyed innocents at once mocked and sympathized with for their obliviousness to the fleshpots of Hollywood. Arriving in style and improbably scoring an audience with queenie record producer "Z-Man" Barzell (John La Zar), they begin their proverbial downward spiral of greed, infidelity, and bisexuality almost immediately. The question is, do we recoil at their dissipation, or do we thrill to its sensual derangement?
All three ladies tangle with the dark side. Kelly tosses old manager Harris Allsworth (David Gurian) aside in favour of chiselling hustler Lance Rock (Michael Blodgett); Pet falls for meek law student Emerson Thorne (Harrison Page), only to cheat with boxer Randy Black (James Inglehart); and Casey gets in bed with scheming lesbian Roxanne (Erica Gavin). People wind up punished in the Manson-esque massacre finale, but you can't tell if Meyer means it or not: he's so clever at switching gears that a position never fully forms. Although we can perhaps discern his disdain for gay men (and his hypocritical ogling-then-denouncing of lesbians), an actual moral position never takes shape. The triple-wedding that completes the movie is either the triumph of conventional morality or a ridiculous joke on ridiculous people–and we're left high and dry as to how to feel.
The nihilism that results is bizarrely satisfying. Other conscious camp artists like John Waters are easy to get a fix on: you know what they stand for since they draw the lines between who's good and who's bad. Meyer is more ambiguous. We all know he loves women with enormous breasts, but his position on his own fetish is impossible to divine: the director himself gets sucked into the maelstrom along with his puppet creations, and he enjoys the button-pushing gear-shifting as much as his astounded audience. I could condescend to this by saying it's run-of-the-mill trash, yet Meyer's achievement is too singular–and too little remarked-upon–to write off as pure schlock. I'm waiting for the study of the director as a pornographic ethicist who has reached the endpoint of conventional morality and sees life as a series of jolts that leave us strangers to what we believe.
THE DVD
Fox pulls out all the stops for their long-awaited DVD release of Beyond the Valley of the Dolls. The 2.39:1, 16×9-enhanced image is sharp and vivid and impeccably clean; the flaming colours leap off the screen without obscuring fine detail or exhibiting any bleedthrough. The Dolby 2.0 mono sound also deserves top marks for rendering the roll of The Carrie Nations' and Strawberry Alarm Clock's music with surprising fullness. Extras for this, uh, stacked two-disc set are as follows:
DISC ONE
Commentary with Roger Ebert
The critic, screenwriter, and FFC whipping boy tries to explain the genius of Russ Meyer and the experience of making BVD. Most Meyerheads won't get much out of this, because they're well aware of the director's filmmaking rigour and devotion to going over the top. Still, Ebert manages to point out one or two interesting aspects of his technique, even if he fallaciously claims that the Strawberry Alarm Clock is best remembered for this movie. A bit self-congratulatory, but at least he's not reviewing it.
Commentary with Harrison Page, John La Zar, Dolly Read, Cynthia Myers, and Erica Gavin
Stuffing this many actors onto one commentary is a practice that doesn't yield informational dividends, and indeed much of the track is given over to catty behaviour and remarks about how beautiful everyone looked back then. Nevertheless, it's infectious to hear the reunion after what appears for some to be a long period without having seen BVD. Listenable in spite of itself.
DISC TWO
Introduction with John La Zar (1 min.)
La Zar spouts more of Z-Man's rhyming gibberish to christen the DVD while an invisible audience gasps and applauds. The right way to kick things off.
"Above, Below, and Beyond the Valley: The Making of a Musical-Horror-Sex-Comedy" (30 mins.)
A remarkable crash course in all things Russ Meyer, from his formative experiences as a WWII cameraman to his graduation from industrial films to "glamour photography" to, eventually, the nudies that made his reputation. Things get a little vague at times with regards to his "distinctive style," but mostly it's remarkably cogent for a DVD special feature–and the main-event descriptions of the man making the most of his brief studio breakthrough are remarkably vivid (and rather hilarious).
"Look On Up At the Bottom: The Music of Dolls" (10 mins.)
A remarkably thorough exploration of the music, from cast lessons in lip-synching and fake-instrument-playing to playback singer Lynn Carey and the writing of the songs–and, of course, the Strawberry Alarm Clock. Some bull arises about how they blazed trails for female groups, but you can't have everything.
"The Best of Beyond" (12 mins.)
Cast reminiscences on the best moments in the movie. Slightly redundant, but fun to hear John La Zar's hyperbolic remarks.
"Sex, Drugs, Music and Murder: Signs of the Time, Baby!" (7 mins.)
Some slightly obvious statements about the a-changing times of the late-'60s/early- '70s, including free love, drugs, and the Manson murders.
"Casey and Roxanne: The Love Scene" (4 mins.)
Cynthia Myers and Erica Gavin recall the logistics of the film's memorable Sapphic sex scene, complete with funny contradictions and the observation that Meyer was surprised by its tenderness.
Screen Tests: Michael Blodgett and Cynthia Myers (4 mins.) and Harrison Page and Marcia McBroom (3 mins.)
Blodgett practically swallows Myers (playing Kelly) whole in his initial kisses in the bedroom scene. Page and McBroom read the same scene; McBroom nearly cracks up at that initial kiss, and Page offers a funnier take on Blodgett's eventual role.
Two trailers, a teaser trailer, and six separate photo galleries round out a terrific package, which comes in a cardboard-shelled translucent blue keepcase.
109 minutes; NC-17; 2.39:1 (16×9-enhanced); English DD 2.0 (Stereo), English DD 2.0 (Mono), French DD 2.0 (Mono); CC; English, Spanish subtitles; Region One; 2 DVD-9s; Fox
