Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill! (1965)

"The point is of no return and you've reached it!", 1 March 2008

If you take a look around the internet at all the reviews for Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill! you'll undoubtedly see the movie examined from every conceivable angle. You'll see some very learned people going on and on about female empowerment or the impotency of man or other similar topics. Don't worry – I'm not going there. So leaving behind all the sociological and psychological mumbo-jumbo, Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill! is just one cool, wildly entertaining movie. Not plain old cool, but uber-cool. This is trash cinema at its very finest. For me, Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill! is about as straight forward as you can get. It's a movie about three women, three cars, six breasts, the desert, and a whole lot of violence. It doesn't get much simpler, or better, than that.

There are so many things I want to say about Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill! that I don't really know where to begin. I guess I'll start with Russ Meyer. From the opening voice-over narration followed by the three larger than life go-go dancers, Meyer gets Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill! off to a kick in the rear sort of start. And he never lets up. Meyer keeps the images and pace coming fast and strong. After watching the movie, I'm amazed at what he was able to do with a budget that was probably less than what I spent on our last family vacation. Meyer uses his camera in a variety of unusual and surprising ways. I doubt I could think of a single angle he didn't use to shoot his three female leads. And Meyer filled the movie with some very interesting, almost ethereal, images. There are some shots of Varla during the race sequence with her hair blowing in the wind as she laughs with the utter delight of the situation that are like works of art. The fact that these close-ups are obviously stage-bound and the car is being rocked by some prop guys only adds to the surreal feeling. I've never seen anything quite like it.

Speaking of having never seen anything like it, there's nothing quite like Tura Satana, Haji, or Lori Williams. Once you've seen them, you'll never forget them. I can honestly say I was impressed with all three – and not just with their obvious physical assets. Each gives a more than serviceable, realistic performance. Of the three, however, Satana stands out. Is there a single scene in which she appears that she does not totally dominate? From the ample cleavage to the straight jet-black hair to the make-up to the clothes to that man-eater attitude – she's absolutely mesmerizing.

What else impressed me? Here's the quick list to save some time: the music (both the jazzy, "loungey" score that runs through most of the movie and The Bostweeds title track); the often unexpected outbursts of violence; the dialogue (Tarantino wishes he could write dialogue half this cool); and the whole 60s go-go feel to the movie. It's just about perfect!

10/10