Are the dead horny? Do they lie in their coffins thinking about sex? Do they masturbate with skeletal fists, and shoot dust instead of semen?In the darkness of a coffin, inspiration is scarce. A bug tapping on your casket from above is unlikely to generate wood. A worm crawling into your eyeball is not comparable to a Hustler Scratch-'N'Sniff centerfold.
So what do dead perverts do for kicks when nights are cold and mumbled obscenities are met with silence?
My thoughts turn to Russ Meyer today. I read his biography, Big Bosoms and Square Jaws (by Jimmy McDonough) a couple of months ago. It's a splendid portrait of the man, a true original, a magnificent filmmaker, and, in his final years, a victim of greedy, ignorant fuckers who exploited his deteriorating mental state and wealth.
Now, having spent almost six years lying face-up in a coffin in Stockton, California, Russ deserves some inspiration, a gift, a carnal trinket that will ease the pain of subterranean imprisonment, and restore the old urges that charged 27 terrific features.That gift is the Dark Sky dvd of John Peyser's The Centerfold Girls, a classic chunk of exploitation that serves up an entree of violence and sleaze with a literal dessert of tits.
This '74 effort from producer Arthur (The Candy Snatchers) Marks stars the scary Andrew Prine as a knife wielding sicko who is erasing "dirty girls" who dare to parade their nude bodies in lewd magazines. Like a classical nutjob, Prine (as 'Clement Dunne') tracks down a bunch of centerfold cuties from a particular magazine, Bachelor, kills them, then returns home to cut out their faces from the magazine.
The film's structure is interesting in that there are three distinct stories focusing on the stalking and butchering of various women. The common thread in these stories is Clement Dunne. It's not entirely believable that he manages to locate each girl, but since logic is not this film's strong suit, such concerns are quickly swept to the side.Of all the American exploitation pieces of I have seen from this period, this comes closest to the feel of a Japanese pink film. Much of it reminded me of Yasuharu Hasebe flicks such as Assault Jack The Ripper. It's certainly not as powerful or competent as that film, but the carefree use of nudity and relentless focus on deviant sexuality felt very Japanese.
Now to why this film could possibly launch a coffin boner for Russ, RIP.
Director Peyser and producer Marks take every opportunity to get their actresses topless. Breasts burst like rabbits from every frame and tops are flung off with riot-like frenzy by the lovely female thespians (and lespians). In one scene, a girl removes her top twice, dresses twice, then removes it again. Why? Because audiences demand it! No woman escapes here without flashing her proverbial assets.
Down in his common law coffin, hand on boner, Russ Meyer would be in his element with this flick. Although the breasts on display are not Russ-approved in terms of size, the master breastmeister would surely approve of the gleeful surrendering to upper body exposure these fine ladies embrace.As a sleazy thriller, the flick has style and spirit. Mostly mean spirit. Some of the women are really roughed up, and the harsh words bellowed at them by the killer are not suitable for children -- not even most adult children.
Serial killer flicks were not commonplace in '74, so The Centerfold Girls stands as a pioneer in this genre.
Sex, violence, obscene language, more sex, and serial breast exposure -- these are a few of my favorite things... and they're the makings of a raging coffin boner.
