How to reconcile the fascinating contradiction that was Doris Wishman? Is the sexploitation of her films an appropriation or satire of the male gaze? Was she a proto-feminist for carving out her own path in a male-dominated industry? Was it avarice or pragmatism to cater to the lurid for profit? What 90-year old woman aspires to make a film called "Dildo Heaven"? Like deep-fried butter, it's both bad and good.
The awful ADR (it's 1961! Why isn't there sync sound?) and overwhelming jazz score were so distracting, it's almost difficult to comment on the actual story. Also, it would help if there was much of a story. While I appreciate and admire Wishman's place in film history, I truly with this was a better example of absolutely anything. I really wanted to like this. Sigh.
Who wrote that stupid dialogues? - Some guy raped a girl and says to her: “Better don’t tell anyone” - Then he leaves a letter: “Come to my apartment or I’ll tell your husband” - In his apartment, being raped again, girl says: “Leave me alone or I’ll tell my husband” and he replies: “You won’t tell him anything, you’re too smart for that”. WTF?
Very important filmaking, especially in the 60's from a woman's point of filmaking. At most times, simply disturbing as we are viewing sexual assault after sexual assault on an innocent young woman trying to keep herself safe. At the end Doris Wishman, reminds us that if it only seems like a horrific nightmare, reality isn't very far off...
With the alternative title "The Woman Who Keeps Getting Raped", you basically know in the first 10 seconds what 90% of this will be. The voiceovers are so bad you'd think the original dialogue was in Italian. One dimensional characters and doubtful plot lines but still there's a transcendent quality overall and the music lifts it considerably.
Wishman may have staked out some pretty limited cinematic territory, but she worked w/in those confines with this crazed, orgiastic creative freedom that, while often bewildering, is hard not to respect... And anyway, how better to expose the sickness of our flippant attitude towards rape culture than to portray it with that same irreverence; screen as mirror. Still, way more interesting as film history than as film.
The way of telling this non-story is shallow, whenever not sexist. The trite cliché 'so provocative but no less innocent' female representation is shameful: there's all along an implicit judgement as if she deserves to be sexually abused or raped.This kind of US cinema in the mid-60s is really NOT my cup of tea. Poor characters, squeaky voices and bad accents, ridiculous movie. Total waste of precious time.
Der Titel ist auf den ersten Blick irreführend, denn die junge Frau ist nichts als Opfer. Dann aber wird klar, wie sehr der Exhibitionismus der Filmsprache sein Publikum zu Voyeuren macht. Aus dem Traum wird die Wirklichkeit einer Männerphantasie. Nichts ist letztendlich der Regisseurin vorzuwerfen: Filme haben immer schon mit den Erwartungen des Publikums gespielt.
Sexploitation, yes, but sexploitation as John Cassavetes might have made it with a soundtrack that could be from a nouvelle vague movie. Some pretty standard saucy scenes but this has more going for it than just silly/base-level sexual silliness. I think John Waters is a fan too, which should be recommendation enough...