A Clean Breast : The Life and Loves of Russ Meyer (3 Volume Set)


Manufacturer: Hauck Pub Co
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Authors:
  • Adolph A. Schwartz

Description:



A Clean Breast : The Life and Loves of Russ Meyer (3 Volume Set)
Reviews:

starsthe breast is yet to come
* this * is Lungo-in-$$$-FUNZIONA the opus of the magnum that the fans of the Meyer are attending in order more than one decade! Where they are the hundreds (or they are "migliaia") of the photos that of Meyer color long it has supported it will justify the astronomical price-modification? Instead, the readers are cure you to the dozens of the photos and, for the reasons for which it is not immediately clear, of the sepia-modified comic strips timbr-graded of the women busty. As far as the text, well, than anyone the who' if it has never read "synopises of the diagram of dot"-style of the dot of the dot on the posterior part of video the trays of the Meyer it knows that some long-winded fragments of phrase go a long sense. A curio bizzarro for the completists bene-well-heeled of the Meyer, this will be double disappointment of D-Tazza for all the other enthusiastic ones of the Meyer.


starsBuxotic!
Russ Meyer's long-awaited autobiography (written by the apocryphal "Adolph Schwartz" and published by a company named for Meyer's late, beloved mother) shipped in August 2000 to pre-purchasers. I gasped when I saw that the book had arrived at my home, for I had sent Russ a check in July of 1990. Ten years is a long time, you bet, but I never doubted that Meyer would finish his book. He's a doer and a perfectionist, and this immense, 18-pound, 3-volume set is nearly as stupendous as the magnificently endowed actresses who have helped make Meyer's films legendary. Strap THIS on, you groovy boys: cloth-covered hardbacks; luxurious 100-lb paper stock; sewn signatures; thousands of photos. This is a set for the ages (apt pun intended). Volumes 1 and 2 provide the core of Meyer's autobiography, beginning with his childhood and progressing to lengthy and fascinating recollections of his time during World War II as a combat cameraman who risked his keister and made lifelong friends as his unit traveled across Europe. And then came his failed postwar attempt to break into Hollywood's tightly closed cinematographers' union, and his subsequent career as a magazine pin-up photographer who was easily the equal of his legendary contemporaries, Peter Gowland and Bunny Yeager. In the late fifties, an association with a west coast theater owner nudged Meyer into filmmaking. The minor, documentary-style short that resulted was followed by Meyer's breakthrough feature, The Immoral Mr. Teas, a charming, funny, and lusciously lit & shot color "nudie" that revolutionized skin films. A paean to male voyeurism, the picture was the first to put naked gals into a story context, rather than utilize them, as had been typical in the pre-Meyer era, as sexless habitues of weedy volleyball courts. For the next twenty years, Meyer financed, wrote & co-wrote, shot, edited, and promoted film after film, establishing himself as the ne plus ultra of chest men, as well as a filmmaker of uncommon gifts. Today, his reputation as a highly talented, idiosyncratic creative force is unshakable. Humorless bluenoses object to his vision, but no one can deny that Meyer has presented that vision with unquestionable conviction, satiric laffs, and a unique visual style. Some of his efforts, such as Faster Pussycat! Kill! Kill! and Vixen, are among the best and most entertaining films of their era. In the late 1960s the Hollywood establishment was finally forced to notice him; Meyer's first big-studio picture (of two), Beyond the Valley of the Dolls, co-written with Roger Ebert, became one of the biggest box-office successes in the history of 20th Century-Fox. Meyer's book revels in this and other triumphs, and you're likely to cheer along with him. A particularly satisfying sidelight is Meyer's running blood fued with Charles Keating, Jr., an attorney and self-appointed moral policeman who eventually was convicted for his mastermind's role in a savings & loan scandal that took billions from grannies and other hapless and deceived investors. Ah, payback! And yet for all of Meyer's quite justified self-satisfaction and occasional gloating, he also reveals himself as a man who is fiercely loyal to old friends (his WW II buddies are invoked over and over again) and to dependable collaborators. The cutthroat nature of independent filmmaking could have turned him into a dour cynic; instead, he's a sentimental guy with a white-hot love of life, women, and sex. The autobiography's Volume 3 is comprised mainly of detailed retellings of Meyer's films, richly illustrated with countless sequential images presented a la film frames. This volume also brings us up to date on Meyer's latter-day video (and other) activities with the unambiguously named Pandora Peaks, Melissa Mounds, and others. That the book has no color images is disappointing--at least initially. Then I looked closely at the thousands of rich, beautifully reproduced duotones, and I felt good again. These images, most of which have never before seen print, come mostly from Meyer's own archives. They are stunning for reasons of libido, and as models of superior photo reproduction. The World War II shots of Russ and his companions in action are particularly interesting to this WW II buff, but let's face it: the real attraction here is the allure of the "buxotic" Meyer women. Eve Meyer, Uschi Digard, Kitten Natividad, Lorna Maitland, Erica Gavin, Raven de la Croix, Tura Satana, Haji, Edy Williams, Renate Horton--lordy, how the list--and bosoms--do go on! Meyer's detailed text comes from the gut. His accounts of his failings as husband to his second wife and first photographic model, the perfectly magnificent Eve Turner Meyer, are at once amusing, harshly self-critical, and poignant. His free-verse tribute to Eve late in the autobigraphy is heartbreaking. As readers progress through the volumes, they will enjoy a full course in the difficulties of independent filmmaking (raising money, scouting locations, casting actors, raising more money, the shoot, slogging through post-production, etc.). And Meyer's cheeky, rapid-fire prose captures the sexy humor and rat-a-tat rhythm that make his film work instantly identifiable The fabulous Vixen is the picture that made Meyer a multimillionaire, but rather than kick back afterward and say "th' hell with it," he produced and directed theatrical films for another ten years, until the late 1970s, by which time plotless, amateurishly executed hardcore, a genre in which Meyer has no creative interest, had superseded his hyperstylized bosomfests. But even as he voluntarily bowed out of theatrical filmmaking, he made prints of his works available for screenings, and issued his films on video and (in Europe only, at this writing) DVD. He's also occupied himself with what he promises will be an immensely detailed film documentary of his life and career. Two final notes: My wife and I were guests not long ago at Chicago's Academy of Science, where the speaker was primate researcher Jane Goodall. As I listened to her low-key but quite passionate remarks, it occurred to me that some fortunate and innately tough people end up doing as their life's work precisely what they were born to do. Russ Meyer is of that group. Lastly, when we attended a theatrical double-bill re-release of Meyer's Faster Pussycat! and Cherry, Harry & Raquel a few years ago, the audience--young, old, in between; equally split between men and women--laughed and cried out with delight. The bam!bam! editing style, the startling camera setups, the stupendous women, the action and satire--the totality of the Russ Meyer experience washed over every one of us in that theater. It was, as the alliterative Meyer might express it, a pulse-poundingly pulchritudinous evening awash with wicked wantons, actionful adventure, and Meyer-style mirth. It's an evening I will not forget. I daresay you won't forget this astonishing book, either.


starsKeeping abreast
An excellent choice for any reader. I have had the pleasure to see some of Mr. Meyer's breast (including his own by accident) photographs in person and can say he has an eye for true beauty (actually two eyes).

A hearty hand clasp for one of my mentors.

God Bless Russ Meyer!

James A Beck



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