I'm amazed there are only raves to be found here for this incredibly sloppy and basically pretty terrible, although certainly very funny, movie! It must be that the only viewers who get around to it are those already sold on "Trash" "Flesh" "Dracula" etc. It doesn't take a great deal of thought with this one to deduce that the intent was to insult the object of derision, "women's lib", all the more by means of its ineluctable tenor of slipshodité. The motivation for which, of course, is easy enough to sympathize with, given that poor AW was so shot more or less point blank repeatedly by the leader of SCUM, who'd degraded herself in "Bike Boy", but through the device that was HER revenge, managed an effective bid for immortality, to which she clung, in her dotage (as she ended up a crazy street person by the beginning of the 80s), evidenced dramatically enough by her decision to "be here now" as it were cued (as I believe I pointed out in another review somewhere, here? ) by "revival house" revivals of this film, at least once, in 1980, when I saw "women in revolt" in Manhattan. Ms. Solanis was in da house, in my row for goodnessakes (film festish seating, way up close) not as any kind of special guest, mind you, but as a mere patron/ticket holder! That's right, paying for the privilege, shades of Jackie and Mr. America!
It is unfortunate, though, to get to Jackie, that Jackie Curtis did an extra dose or two of amphetamines for this one and steps on everybody's lines. However, even this seems "spot on" since the style PM seemed to be after is that "really bad underground film ca 1970-80" of the sort I remember being roped into for NYU students: get nude, roll around be divinely decadent. (Another time, I wasn't in the movie, but there was a very precious film student from England I met driving a cab who invited me to a screening of his fabulously art directed but utterly drivulous portrayal of nude jealousy amidst the scenery... I guess I had dinner with the director, I can't possibly remember... but will never forget his saying, "I think I saw her the other day..." "Who?" "Why, GARBO, of course!" - so this sort of thing wasn't entirely relegated to no budget productions. There was also a thriving academic version thereof. I bring all of this up to try to illustrate that in its particular badness, "Women in Revolt" is pretty durned precise in chasing the overall vibe that must have been its objective. Think "Cockettes". A scene outside with a construction worker and the mad libbers (which I won't "spoil") is a particularly spot-on example of the feebly "outrageous" cute enough in this context, ah guess, but... Good lord, I hope nobody comes to this film before some of the truly great Warhol Morrissey collaborations and winds up imagining that this is the standard.
It is unfortunate, though, to get to Jackie, that Jackie Curtis did an extra dose or two of amphetamines for this one and steps on everybody's lines. However, even this seems "spot on" since the style PM seemed to be after is that "really bad underground film ca 1970-80" of the sort I remember being roped into for NYU students: get nude, roll around be divinely decadent. (Another time, I wasn't in the movie, but there was a very precious film student from England I met driving a cab who invited me to a screening of his fabulously art directed but utterly drivulous portrayal of nude jealousy amidst the scenery... I guess I had dinner with the director, I can't possibly remember... but will never forget his saying, "I think I saw her the other day..." "Who?" "Why, GARBO, of course!" - so this sort of thing wasn't entirely relegated to no budget productions. There was also a thriving academic version thereof. I bring all of this up to try to illustrate that in its particular badness, "Women in Revolt" is pretty durned precise in chasing the overall vibe that must have been its objective. Think "Cockettes". A scene outside with a construction worker and the mad libbers (which I won't "spoil") is a particularly spot-on example of the feebly "outrageous" cute enough in this context, ah guess, but... Good lord, I hope nobody comes to this film before some of the truly great Warhol Morrissey collaborations and winds up imagining that this is the standard.