After spending the first few years of his career on traditional 'nudie cuties', director Russ Meyer made his first foray into 'real' film- making with 1964's Lorna, written by and starring James Griffith. Though his colourful visuals and sense of humour were evident in the likes of The Immoral Mr. Teas (1959) and Eve and the Handyman (1961), these films were still very much confined to being nothing more than a peep show. With Lorna, Meyer resorted to black-and-white photography, but whether this was for budgetary reasons or stylistic choice, I don't know. But the decision to shoot this way gives the film more gravitas, and the attention is moved away from the big-breasts and onto the story and script, giving birth to the auteur that is now so revered.
Beginning with the rape of a girl named Ruthie (Althea Currier), the two men responsible, Luther (Hal Hopper) and Jonah (Doc Scortt), travel to work and pick up Jim (James Rucker) on the way. Jim is married to the beautiful Lorna (Lorna Maitland), who is sexually unsatisfied by the nice-guy Jim. Luther proceeds to tease Jim about Lorna at work, while an escaped convict (Mark Bradley) forces himself onto Lorna. Lorna is extremely turned on, and invites the convict back to the house where she feeds and washes him. Clearly, it's not the most complex of plots, but we are in familiar Meyer territory with square-jawed men, put-upon women, and a funky jazz score.
One of the most familiar traits of a Meyer film is the narrator. Commonly, the role of the narrator in his films was to play the traditional man, one that obeyed the values and traditions of the 1950's American. The idea of sexual repression was clearly something that amused Meyer, and in Lorna, he employs James Griffith to play 'the Man of God', who is littered throughout the film addressing the audience directly to camera and questioning their moral fibre. He introduces the film, and this leads to one of the best moments in the films. He stands in the middle of a wide desert road, allowing the camera to glide past him and forward into the unknown as the jazz score kicks in. It's a lovely little touch, and a clear indication that this isn't simple another nudie-cutie.
This is far from his best work, with Lorna being relatively subdued in comparison to his more wilder visions such as Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill! (1965) and especially Beyond the Valley of the Dolls (1970), and Lorna's pandering to the violent convict may seem rather chauvinistic in comparison to the majority of Meyer's output, where the female was quite often the dominant sex. But this was only the beginning of a now widely- celebrated career, so Meyer was still very much honing his craft. His sense of humour is unmistakable however, and one of the standout scenes has the despicable Luther writing and performing a song about Lorna's adultery to Jonah. It's played out so naturally that the two start to really laugh, making the scene really quite wonderful. It's this kind of playfulness that make Meyer's output such as joy to watch.
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