9/10
Absolutely captivating. Who knew?
11 July 2007
Please, take it from one who, until tonight, foolishly and ignorantly pigeonholed Russ Meyer as a Grade-B Soft-Core cult hero. What did I know? He's so much more than that. Think really good John Waters crossed with really bad Fellini (which is good, of course, in its own way) and you have just a hint of the inspired wickedness here.

Three mean chicks in sports cars, on a road trip from hell, back in a blistering hot, black-plate California desert. The script is undisguised genius and the performances (particularly, of course, the sadistic, sneering Tura Satana) cross most known bounds. But you know what? Even with that firebrand in the lead, the others hold up incredibly well. Meanwhile, the cinematography is spot-on for the theme here, tilted and trenchant. The overall effect: bracing--blinding, almost--and more than a little surreal.

FASTER, PUSSYCAT KILL! KILL! It's hideous and hip. Nightmarish, and nasty. Scathing and scabrous. Insane, but inventive. It's not a film for everyone. Some will call it sick, some will dismiss it as camp. It's all that and more. Hardly a wrong note, and with *so* many opportunities too... I was glued to the screen from beginning to end. Wicked fun. Captivating. Can you tell I liked it?

PS: Also recommended for fans of NHB, male/female bare-knuckle boxing. You know who you are ;)
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