Before dismissing this as a piece of FILTHY, FROGGY, PORNOGRAPHY, we ought to watch it because it's pretty clever. We don't need to call Roger Vadim's direction a reflection of the French New Wave because that was underway a decade earlier. Vadim has his own style. It consists mainly of slapdash plots and lots and lots of female nudity or semi-nudity. It has the usual 1960s social commentary too. A dozen students are milling around the hall just after a murder. "Hold it, Mister. Where do you think YOU'RE going?", says the cop, grabbing the sole black kid by the arm.
This has a prominent place, then, in Vadim's ouvre. If it was Brigitte Bardot in 1956, it's Angie Dickinson who is uncovered here. Not all the way, but enough to get the job done. There is also a good deal of teasing from the other female cast members. You have never seen so many upskirt shots.
I think I'll mostly skip the plot because it's not worth much effort. Rock Hudson, looking fine, loves his wife and kiddie but can't help banging the high school chicks, all of whom have crushes on him. He strangles them so they don't squeal on him. And -- well, it's not just the students that are overwhelmed by Rock and his pheromones. While discussing someone's problem with Angie Dickinson, he says something like, "I wonder if you could handle what I'm about to throw at you." "Oh, YES," she replies breathlessly.
Not that all the jokes are about sex. The first verbal gag is this. Roddy MacDowell, the principal of Oceanfront High School, is having an argument with one of the teachers. A student rushes in and announces that a girl has just been found in the men's room. "See?," says the teacher, "It's just what I was saying about morals." The student says, "No, it's okay. She's dead." I admire Lalo Schifrin's musical score too. We get to hear a little Bach, a Mozart sonata, a coy imitation of Duke Ellington's "Prelude to a Kiss," and the school song of Cornell University. His taste is pretty eclectic.
An important point is that this movie really IS influenced by European film making. It's about sex, not violence. Nobody is murdered on screen and there isn't a single drop of blood. Little emphasis is on the mystery, nor need there be. It's more of a slice of time, one of those snapshots in which everybody is standing on his head, a home movie in which the subject makes gargoyle faces at the camera.
It occurs to me that if you enjoyed "Lord Love a Duck," you'll probably get a slight charge out of this movie too.
This has a prominent place, then, in Vadim's ouvre. If it was Brigitte Bardot in 1956, it's Angie Dickinson who is uncovered here. Not all the way, but enough to get the job done. There is also a good deal of teasing from the other female cast members. You have never seen so many upskirt shots.
I think I'll mostly skip the plot because it's not worth much effort. Rock Hudson, looking fine, loves his wife and kiddie but can't help banging the high school chicks, all of whom have crushes on him. He strangles them so they don't squeal on him. And -- well, it's not just the students that are overwhelmed by Rock and his pheromones. While discussing someone's problem with Angie Dickinson, he says something like, "I wonder if you could handle what I'm about to throw at you." "Oh, YES," she replies breathlessly.
Not that all the jokes are about sex. The first verbal gag is this. Roddy MacDowell, the principal of Oceanfront High School, is having an argument with one of the teachers. A student rushes in and announces that a girl has just been found in the men's room. "See?," says the teacher, "It's just what I was saying about morals." The student says, "No, it's okay. She's dead." I admire Lalo Schifrin's musical score too. We get to hear a little Bach, a Mozart sonata, a coy imitation of Duke Ellington's "Prelude to a Kiss," and the school song of Cornell University. His taste is pretty eclectic.
An important point is that this movie really IS influenced by European film making. It's about sex, not violence. Nobody is murdered on screen and there isn't a single drop of blood. Little emphasis is on the mystery, nor need there be. It's more of a slice of time, one of those snapshots in which everybody is standing on his head, a home movie in which the subject makes gargoyle faces at the camera.
It occurs to me that if you enjoyed "Lord Love a Duck," you'll probably get a slight charge out of this movie too.