The
Passing of a Legend: Russ Meyer
Reprinted from September
22, 2004
by Scott
Muoio
Tuesday was perhaps the biggest day in the history
of the DVD revolution: the worldwide release of the original Star
Wars trilogy. For years, the movie watching public had clamored
for the release of the original three Star Wars movies
on DVD and on September 21st, 2004, George Lucas gave the people
what they wanted. Well, sort of.
Although the films are slightly changed to better represent Lucas’
“original vision,” i.e. digital enhancements which
include cleaner prints as well as added scenes, much to the lament
of some, I have no doubt they will be the most lucrative DVD movies
ever released and that the owners of said DVDs will inevitably
be nothing less than thrilled. Some will clamber for the “real
originals,” and perhaps those will appear sometime in the
future, but for now, Star Wars on DVD in any version
is a huge event.
“So how could anything upstage this triumphant event?”
I wondered. “Impossible,” I finally admitted. I was
wrong. For as wonderful and monumental as I find Star Wars
on DVD, there are a couple movies that I have waited for with
even more anticipation; movies that, even in their VHS format,
are collector’s items. And yesterday, sadly, my dream of
owning Beyond the Valley of the Dolls and Faster
Pussycat! Kill! Kill! may have died along with the man I
consider an inspiration, a hero, and a genius: Russ Meyer.
For those unfamiliar with Meyer, suffice it to write mere words
cannot do him justice. He was a man bigger than life itself, steadfast
in his earnest approach to renegade independent film making, and
a penultimate lover and connoisseur of the female form. Russ Meyer
is a legend, plain and simple, and was one of the greatest innovators
in motion pictures not only of his time but of all-time. Perhaps
unbeknownst to even him, his movies are now considered proto-feminist
treatises and female empowerment touchstones beyond any bra burning,
protesting feminism that usually gets all the press. And the women
who filled his frames, Tura Satana, Haji, Kitten Natividad, Erica
Gavin, Uschi Digard, and so many more continue to inspire, enthrall,
and defy both gravity and the role of women over numerous decades
and several generations.
My words cannot express how sad I feel right now. Russ Meyer
led the type of colorful life I wish I could and in my heart,
deeply yearn to live. He did what he loved and compromised for
no one. He was a good man with great ideas who managed to create
a world on film that will never be equaled. Meyer’s humour
was second to none, his satire ripe, rowdy, and unique, his images
as impressive as any I have ever seen, and his business savvy
in maintaining the rights to all his works almost unheard of in
this or any other day and age. Unlike Lucas or Spielberg or even
Kubrick, Meyer was a true entrepreneur who refused to sell out
to the big time even when he knew he could. The word “independent”
gets thrown around a whole hell of a lot these days, but for my
money, its meaning has become hollow, especially when those it
gets applied to are compared to Russ Meyer.
When I think back on the life and work of Meyer, and I know I
will, I shall remember with fondness that he, more than probably
anyone else who ever found success in the entertainment industry,
represented the true spirit of what I am trying to create in my
own life: An Undependent Revolution.
For the sake of Russ Meyer, if there is a God, I hope he’s
a breast man.
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