Beyond the Valley of the Dolls
Federico Fellini’s “La Dolce Vita” was one of Roger Ebert’s most beloved, personal movies; in his Great Movies review of the film, we get a window into how his thinking about the film changed over the years, and it’s one of the reviews that most sticks out of his when thinking about that series. There’s a part of me that couldn’t help but wonder while watching “Beyond the Valley of the Dolls”- which Ebert wrote for skin flick auteur Russ Meyer- whether Ebert had that movie in mind when he wrote the script for this camp piece of lunacy about a girl band who goes to Hollywood, gets famous, and becomes embroiled in the lifestyle of sex, drugs and immorality. This isn’t to say that Meyer’s film deserves mention on even the most generous of film reviewing scales with Fellini’s iconic film, but there are scenes and passages in the story that feel very much akin to some of “La Dolce Vita” in how they view despair along the edges of celebrity.
Despite its title, “Beyond the Valley of the Dolls” is not, legally, a sequel to “Valley of the Dolls,” although it began life as such; when Meyer and Ebert came on board, however, it became something more comedically inclined, a parody of not just that film, but pretty much any film that has ever mined the story of someone who goes to Hollywood and makes it big. This is certainly not a film meant to be taken seriously; even though I liken some parts of it to Fellini in the first paragraph, the tone of “BtVotD” (as I will refer to it from here on out) is satirical of Hollywood conventions and archetypes. I don’t know that I would put it up with the greatest film parodies of all-time, but it does understand what the best parodies do- it’s not that you just run through gags, but show an appreciation for the absurdity of what you are parodying, and that no one is showing their cards that they’re in on the joke. We never catch on to Meyer and Ebert’s tells, and that’s why the film ultimately works.
Our story begins with Kelly Mac Namara (Dolly Read), Casey Anderson (Cynthia Myers) and Petronella Danforth (Marcia McBroom) as a band playing school dances in a small town, with Harris (David Gurian)- their “manager,” and Kelly’s boyfriend- spinning a color wheel to control the lighting. It’s not long before they are off to Hollywood, and to visit Susan Lake (Phyllis Davis), an advertising icon, and Kelly’s long lost aunt. Kelly and Susan hit it off instantly, and Susan promises Kelly some of the inheritance that might have gone to her mother had their not been a falling out, much to the chagrin of her business manager, Porter Hall (Duncan McLeod). Soon, Kelly and co. are going to outrageous Hollywood parties thrown by producer Ronnie “Z-Man” Barzell (John Lazar), and the film progresses from there in ways that you will absolutely see coming, along with others you won’t see coming.
This is my first Meyer film, but because of what I was familiar with in regards to this film- and Ebert’s admiration of his work- I had something of a good idea of what to expect once the film gets to Hollywood. This is the first NC-17 movie (rated X in 1970) I’ve seen in a while, and it’s kind of crazy to think about how this type of cinema, with copious amounts of nudity (especially of the female variety), unabashed sexuality, and some wild violence at times could be financed by a major studio on a regular basis, and people wouldn’t really blink an eye. I wonder if even Ebert and Meyer were surprised with how much they could get away with in this film; I’m not saying they threw everything and the kitchen sink into “BtVotD,” but one of the big climaxes involves a butler in a Nazi uniform, lesbian sex, erotic costume play, and brutal murder with a sword on top of a man who’s actually a woman beheading a man. There’s a lot to process, and that’s before an epilogue that would make the one we just saw in “Zack Snyder’s Justice League” jealous with how overindulgent it is, and following stories involving blackmail, suicide attempts on TV and abortion. Maybe they did throw in the kitchen sink, as well.
You could know what to expect in this film, and I promise that the film will still surprise in the method behind its madness, if not the specific madness itself. At the start, I was agape with how ludicrous everything was pitched in terms of Meyer’s style, Ebert’s stilted dialogue and the line readings that seem primed for “Troll 2” and “The Room”-level bad movie infamy; by the end, the insanity just left me wondering what the Hell I was watching, and entertained by every second of it. I don’t know that Ebert would have called “BtVotD” “cinema as critique,” but he sure likes the illustrate the tropes of this type of film, and with Meyer, exploit them for their maximum entertainment level. High art it is not. As reflective on “the good life” in Hollywood- or at least, the idea of “the good life” Hollywood puts out- as Fellini’s film was of that time in Italy? It’s hard not to think so, and that might be the strongest compliment Ebert could have given to Fellini’s film.
