Misunderstood Masterpieces: Beyond The Valley Of The Dolls

Posted by Will Helm on 05.18.2004

…or Russ Meyer! Roger Ebert! Oh Yeah!

Thank you Kool-Aid Man.

I love my readers. I really and truly do. In a purely platonic way, but I still do. Recently, one of my trustworthy readers informed me of a rare occurrence: Beyond the Valley of the Dolls was going to be playing on cable! I have wanted to bring this film to you, my readership, from the start, but its lack of availability made that a near-impossibility until now. I recorded the film, watched it, and now we all shall have it for posterity . . . or at least until the VHS tape breaks down or I accidentally tape over it.

Now I suppose a little background information is in order. 1970’s Beyond the Valley of the Dolls is a bizarre flick from academically respected film auteur Russ Meyer, who is most well known for . . . well, movies featuring weird plots and plenty of well-endowed women. I don’t at all mean that that is a bad thing; in fact, that’s a very good thing. So good, in fact, that there are courses devoted to Meyer’s oeuvre in some American colleges. It’s too bad Ed Wood passed away far too young or else he would have probably received the same treatment. Anyway, in addition to being crafted under the watchful eye of Russ Meyer, Beyond the Valley of the Dolls is also notable for the identity of its screenwriter: none other than legendary Chicago film critic Roger Ebert. It’s hard to believe it now, but almost 35 years ago Roger Ebert penned the script to what is a true cult classic and one of the strangest movies I have ever seen. With a pedigree like that, how could I not share my amazement with the rest of you? Sorry . . . I really don’t have a good answer for that rhetorical question, so on with the film!

Hilariously enough, the film proper begins with a disclaimer disavowing any connection to the earlier 1967 adaptation of Jaqueline Susann’s Valley of the Dolls cleverly titled Valley of the Dolls. Makes sense, doesn’t it? After the disclaiming, it seems that the scene is a creepy mansion wherein some chick with a sword chases an overweight, elderly Nazi for no particular reason. Meanwhile, some scantily clad HOT CHICK panics inside the house. Moments later, the sword lady walks around the house with a gun; she sneaks into a bedroom and finds a naked HOT CHICK sleeping therein. The ex-sword chick sticks the gun into the naked chick’s mouth and the naked chick seems to begin unconsciously fellating it. Yeah, I know it’s weird . . . bear with me. The naked HOT CHICK wakes up and starts screaming . . .

. . . Which segues to a band full of HOT CHICKS playing at a high school prom. OK, then. Also at the prom, assumedly with the band, is some angular guy who stands by a film projector with a wheel of colored gels in front of it. Oh . . . so it’s like one of those Jefferson Airplane-ish deals where they used to put the plate of water and colored oil on an overhead projector and swirl it around so that you get that cool trippy effect. It’s like you can hear the colors, man! Anyway, the square teachers are put out by the scene, so the band celebrates the gig by smoking some weed in their van. No word on if they invited a Canadian werewolf or Scooby Doo to join them. I suppose this is also a good time to introduce you to our dramatis personae; we have lead singer Kelly (Playboy’s Miss May 1966 Dolly Read), an all-American girl who just can’t seem to hide a Cockney accent (Miss Read is actually British); guitarist Casey (Playboy’s Miss December 1968 Cynthia Myers), who’s bland but very well-endowed; drummer Petronella (Marcia McBroom), the sassy black HOT CHICK; and manager Harris (David Gurian), the guy. Reading all of that over, Beyond the Valley of the Dolls, as of now, seems like Josie and the Pussycats gone horribly awry and the prototype for the Britney Spears vehicle Crossroads some decades later. Strange, huh? Anyway, it seems that Kelly and Harris are also an item, as Casey and Pet bug out and then the two lovers make out while very goofy music plays. Either that or they parked next to a carnival.

Instead of the happy, horny couple getting it on in the back of the van, the scene shifts to various “artistic” shots of Los Angeles while the main characters give an annoying spoken word monologue. It’s like the terrible West Coast style of Beat poetry; not good like the Ginsberg or Kerouac stuff. Anyway, just to hammer home the hipness and coolness, the band drives across a roadmap in their van while hippie music plays in the background. Once in L.A., Kelly visits her aunt, Susan Lake (Phyllis Davis), who also happens to be an artistic director for a magazine or something and a HOT CHICK. It seems that Susan is at her studio and it’s much less a photoshoot and much more an orgy. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Kelly, the remarkably accent-confused niece, brings up the matter of an inheritance and her aunt is unbelievably generous regarding the matter . . . until her stuffy lawyer, Porter Hall (Duncan McLeod . . . of which there can be only one) interjects himself and plays Devil’s advocate. Kelly gets $333,333 for her troubles anyway, just because her aunt is a remarkably naïve HOT CHICK. The aunt and invites Kelly and the rest of a group to a party; after Kelly exits, the stuffy lawyer guy gives Aunt Susan a stern talking to regarding her relations.

At the party, an x-rated episode of Laugh-In breaks out. That’s ironic for one very good reason: Dolly Read, the actress portraying our lead character here, was and is married to Dick Martin, co-creator of the legendary sketch comedy show Laugh-In. Freaky, huh? The odd coincidences with this movie get better, though – just be patient. The host of our little soiree, record producer Ronnie “Z-Man” Barzell (unbelievably angular actor John LaZar), meets Kelly and takes her through his mansion so that she may meet all the bizarre guests. It’s too bad he wasn’t wearing a corset and singing “Sweet Transvestite”; this is like Rocky Horror before Rocky Horror was a gleam in Richard O’Brien’s eye. In one of those odd musical cameos on par with The Lovin’ Spoonful in What’s Up, Tigerlily?, relatively minor psychedelic rock group Strawberry Alarm Clock is on hand. So impressed by the burgeoning fame of the group, Kelly yet again switches accents on a whim. I guess incense and peppermints can bring out the Briton in a girl. Good to know. Elsewhere in the mansion, Z-Man (who has that nickname for no particular reason . . . neither his first nor last names begin with “Z”) walks in on a bit of homosexual love and then he shows Kelly his bathroom. Umm . . . OK. He then launches into a profound, Shakespeare-infused monologue; don’t be afraid – he has a tendency to do that a lot.

Later in the night, the rest of the band arrive at the party. Aunt Susan introduces herself to them because she seems to instinctively know just who they are as soon as they all walk in the door. Moments later, some porn star named Ashley St. Ives (Edy Williams) starts flirting with Harris. Meanwhile, Aunt Susan shows Pet around the party and the stuffy lawyer hits on Casey and her giant breasts. One interesting thing about this film is that, if you do a little research, it totally shatters the modern perspective of what a Playboy Playmate looks like. OK . . . I have to admit it: I read Playboy. I’ve had a subscription for quite a few years, but I also have to admit that I get put out whenever I see yet another emaciated Pamela Anderson-Lee-Anderson-Lee-Anderson-Rock-Anderson clone in the pages of the magazine. Big boobed blondes can get VERY boring after a short while. If you ever want to see Playboy at the height of its power, I suggest picking up an issue from the mid- to late 1960s. In fact, one of my favorite Playmates of that era, Miss March 1967 Fran Gerard, is the epitome of the anti-Playmate. Look her up just to see what I mean. Anyway . . . rant over. Porter, still hitting on Casey, reveals that her father just happens to be a U.S. Senator and that he himself is a total drag and a pervert. Elsewhere, some lesbian partygoer makes eyes at Casey . . . I sense sparks!

Even more later in the party, Ashley the porn star flirts yet more with Harris, but he plays hard to get. It turns out that he’s well aware of her oeuvre and that he’s also a fan of shrimping. Hmm . . . I didn’t need to know that. As he now seems to have the upper hand – or, in this case, foot – he blows Ashley off and then walks around clumsily. I guess he’s tripping over his massive erection; luckily, we never get to see. I’m quite thankful for that. Beyond the Valley of the Dolls: 100% man junk free! Elsewhere in the party, Ronnie’s assistant bullies the helpful black law student Emerson (Harrison Page); after his verbal berating, he meets Pet the sassy drummer and instantly transforms himself into Mr. Loverman. Meanwhile, Harris walks in on Ronnie and Kelly chatting away in some room and the scene gets very awkward for no particular reason. Harris seems to get cold feet – again for no particular reason – and then Ronnie gets Kelly’s band to play with Strawberry Alarm Clock. Kelly lip-synchs the song well, which is quite important as they play one of those “explain the plot in allegory” songs that some movies utilize to drive the action through song. I guess that’s why some people consider this film a musical . . . I don’t, but some people do. After the performance, Ronnie, just because he can, changes the band’s name from The Kelly Experience (I guess she replaced Jimi) to The Carrie Nations, which is actually a pretty cool name for a band from that era.

Just because, we then segue to the newly renamed band recording a crappy folky song during a studio montage. All the while, Harris stands over in the corner and bobs his head in time with the music like an imbecile. Ronnie, meanwhile . . . still creepy. Later, the band plays in evening gowns for no particular reason. I guess it’s sort of a coming out party, like a psychedelic debutante ball. Makes sense to me, honestly. Actually, it’ll really be a coming out if Casey’s favorite lesbian shows up. Sorry, that was low of me. After the performance, Ronnie eloquently sucks up to the band while Pet hits on Emerson the helpful black law student. In the dressing room, the band gets naked! It’s ’60s Girls Gone Wild! Anyway, it seems that there’s yet another party at Ronnie’s and the band is invited; Casey, because she’ll become more important later in the film but takes a breather for the bulk of it, bows out. Aunt Susan, only because she’s so naïve, is concerned. After Casey exits, Kelly and Pet chat about Emerson and then Pet leaves to join with her Loverman.

Later that evening, Kelly and Harris have a relationship chat because he feels that his position in the grand scheme of things is being threatened by the group’s newfound celebrity. That position: between Kelly’s legs, to be honest. Kelly, since she doesn’t want to be brought down by Harris’ negativity, man, meets prettyboy gigolo Lance Rocke (Michael Blodgett . . . who’s a dead ringer for Eric Stoltz). You know, this is yet again one of those bizarre coincidence things right here. I mentioned that Mr. Blodgett, the actor portraying Lance, uncannily resembles actor Eric Stoltz. Eric Stoltz, in the film Pulp Fiction, played a character named . . . Lance. Freaky. What does it all mean? Either that’s a really cool coincidence or Quentin Tarantino is a mad genius who knows every film ever made inside and out. My vote’s for the latter, personally. Anyway, Lance (Beyond the Valley of the Dolls version), because he’s a sentimental romantic, hastily ditches his big-boobed blonde companion for Kelly.

Because Kelly dumped him for a bug-eyed man-whore, Harris, unsurprisingly, is dejected. He’s really good at playing that emotion, to be honest; he tends to do it a lot throughout the movie. Luckily for him, he need not walk home alone as Ashley generously offers him a ride. During the drive, is appears as if she’d rather watch him than the road; it’s a good thing they’re probably not actually driving. That’d be a rather pathetic obituary: run over by a horny porn star. It’s not like you could even die with a smile on your face. Ashley, after a few moments of aimless driving, drops Harris off and then fondles his groin. The end up making out, probably because 1) she’s a porn star and 2) Kelly is boinking fake Eric Stoltz. Then they get it on in the back of a Rolls-Royce, which she seems a little overly enthusiastic about. She does know her car makes and models, though; maybe she’s a mechanic on the side. We do know for sure that she sucks pipe . . . um, sorry about that. Simultaneously, serendipitously, Kelly is getting it on with Lance; he ruins the mood by revealing that he also lusts after her aunt. Umm . . . that’s REALLY so romantic. Who would think that he’d be pushy and greedy? A gigolo that’s a gold-digger? Will wonders never cease?

The next day, stuffy Porter gives Susan a piece of his mind regarding Kelly’s intentions. Kelly, shockingly, shows up nary a moment later, as if she were in the wings waiting for her cue. Porter, because he is wont to do such things, gives the Cockney niece a stern talking to; she responds by changing her demand to a nice round number like $500,000 and then she freaks out. OK, then. Elsewhere, Pet and Emerson, since they are remarkably likeable characters, study law in the middle of a random field somewhere. He quotes Macbeth (what is it with characters quoting that play?) and then they channel a Beck video and go running through the grass. I hear that it’s a gas . . . baby, can you dig it? OK, I know that it’s actually “grazing in the grass,” but that makes absolutely no sense at all. I like my version better. After the interlude, they get it on in a pile of hay. I know to some that might be sweet and romantic, but to me it just means bugs in very unfortunate places. It’s like the grade school hay rides, a.k.a. “Everyone Gets Head Lice!”

The next morning, or later that day, or sometime in the future, Porter gives Kelly a wakeup call. Fake Eric Stoltz, lying in bed with Kelly, listens in to the conversation and offers advice like an Iran-Contra lawyer. Porter, it seems, wants to do some business with Kelly over a drink; that’s awfully nice of him. At the bar, Kelly and Porter meet on relatively peaceful terms. He even clumsily apologizes, which is saying a lot. Maybe he’s come around or something . . . or not. While Kelly starts dancing lasciviously, Porter orders a double martini because he wants to do business. Kelly’s not about business, baby . . . she just wants to party all the time, party all the time, party all the time. Porter, because even stuffy WASPs can beat erectile dysfunction, is quite distracted by Kelly’s body language. He finally overcomes his animal urges and offers to buy off Kelly for a fraction of the inheritance she wants; instead of Kelly’s signature on the paper, he ends up with martini on his suit. Oops; I guess she slipped.

Kelly apologizes and invites Porter to accompany her to Lance’s place; fortunately for Porter, Lance is conspicuously absent. Otherwise things could get a little weird – although, if you want weird, just wait. Once at the swingin’ pad, Kelly and Porter smoke up together in an unintentionally hilarious scene. Why unintentionally hilarious? Well, Porter looks like a thin William Daniels, who played Mr. Feeny in the ABC T.G.I.F. standard Boy Meets World. There’s something very funny about the thought of a stoned Mr. Feeny. Or even a stoned K.I.T.T. “Michael, could you stuff some Fritos into my gas tank? And take that stupid leather jacket off . . . it’s friggin’ 100 degrees, dude.” Kelly, seductive seductress that she is, changes into something more comfortable . . . which happens to be nothing at all. Va-va-voom! Porter, for perhaps the first time in his staid, boring life, pops a stoner boner. At least we think he does; remember, NO MAN JUNK ALLOWED! He comically strips into his skivvies and joins Kelly in bed; she seemingly seduces him, but he looks either titillated, disgusted, or both. Ah, there’s nothing like the tortures of Protestant guilt.

At YET ANOTHER PARTY, Pet tells bondage jokes for no particular reason while Porter is still trying to persuade Susan to change her mind regarding her niece’s birthright. Just then, who should cross the threshold but Susan’s erstwhile love Baxter Wolfe (career badass Charles Napier) and his giant chin! He shoos Porter away from Susan’s company and then he and his chin proclaim that their love for Susan is still alive . . . so they make out. OK, then. That was quick. Elsewhere in the party, Lance chats with hilariously named Muhammad Ali clone Randy Black (James Inglehart). Hehe . . . “randy black.” Just messing around with those horrible racial stereotypes, eh, Mr. Ebert? That’s almost as good as Sherbet Tights from SpikeTV’s MXC. Horny African, because he has no purpose in the film other than to be the alpha male, stands there shirtless and hits on Pet, mainly because she’s the only black actress in the film.

Out on the beach behind Ronnie’s mansion, Harris and Ashley fool around. It seems that he’s sick of her sexual adventurousness and he just wants to do it in a bed for once. You know, that’s not such a bad idea; you can only have your own ankles behind your ears so many times before it gets to be boring and trite . . . and I’m talking about the guy here! His lack of experimentation puts out Ashley, who exclaims that making love on the beach is “a gas.” So is grazin’ in and running through the grass, but just not as erotic. Although grazing on the grass can also give you gas, which leads to methane-fueled holes in the ozone layer. Which means that even though cow brains can give you mad cow disease, cow farts are overall much more dangerous. And that’s my environmental message for the day. Anyway, Ashley, now frustrated with Harris’ insistence on making love in a bed (perish the thought!), calls him a square and verbally emasculates him. Oops.

Back inside, the overwhelming hormonal torture of Harris’ rapidly shrinking blue balls overcomes him as he violently kisses Kelly. Lance, sensing that someone is muscling in on his territory (and money) – even though Kelly was with Harris at the beginning – scuffles with Kelly’s erstwhile paramour; all the while, Ronnie pontificates as if he’s some sort of Greek chorus overseeing the proceedings. Harris, unsurprisingly, considering he’s a wimp and a bad lay, loses the fight. Kelly, now torn between her first love and a money-grubbing gigolo, dumps Lance . . . and then she smacks Porter around for no adequately explained reason. In the aftermath, Susan discovers Porter’s villainous dealings with her niece and she, with the help of Baxter and the power of his chin, kick her now ex-lawyer to the curb.

Meanwhile, also in the aftermath of the “fight,” Turgid Negro consoles Pet and then gives her an unintentionally hilarious boxing-themed carpe diem speech. I bet she seizes something other than the day considering the loose morality of this picture. It’s just a hunch. Ronnie, just because he can, hits on Lance; maybe he’s a big fan of his work or something. I do know a lot of people liked 2 Days in the Valley. Oh, wait . . . that was the real Eric Stoltz again. Hmm . . . Eric Stoltz was in 2 Days in the Valley; fake Eric Stoltz was in Beyond the Valley of the Dolls. Coincidence? Anyway, Lance, manly man’s man that he is, bitch-slaps Ronnie down . . . because nothing says “masculine” like a bitch-slap.

Elsewhere, we finally learn where Casey has been hiding out this whole time as Harris goes for a little visit with her. Moments after he steps through the door, she offers him a drink and a downer; after two weeks in Los Angeles, she’s already an alcoholic. Wow . . . drinking, drugs, whoring – all we need is a few murders and this movie could have every vice known to humanity. Oops; maybe I’m getting ahead of myself. Unsurprisingly, mainly because I foreshadowed it earlier, Pet ends up in bed with Randy Black (OK, I ran out of humorous nicknames after two . . . sad, huh?); Emerson, everyone’s favorite likable helpful black law student, discovers them together. Randy takes his time in leaving . . . but he still doesn’t bother to put on his shirt. Maybe he doesn’t own any. It is a hard life being a boxer. Outside the apartment, Emerson stands up to Randy as the pugilist attempts to drive away; Randy does what any enraged stereotype would do and runs over Emerson. In the aftermath of this set piece, Pet is rightfully sad and regretful.

That same morning, our mentally unstable drunk friend Casey freaks out because Harris is in bed with her . . . mainly because bitches be crazy. Harris leaves post haste and calls and hangs up on Kelly from a pay phone. We thrill as he hails a cab and then records are pressed as The Carrie Nations play another allegorical song to explain where we are in the film so far. Ronnie, just because he can, dances on the sidelines while Harris broods yet more; maybe he’s so downbeat because Kelly can’t lip-synch to save her life. Some evening afterward, Harris, channeling the spirit of the X Generation, throws a newspaper machine through a record shop window as an act of angst and rage. Yeah! The Carrie Nations sold out! Of course, we know that they sold out because the scene instantaneously shifts to the band’s first televised performance; in honor of Harris, Pet, because as of now she’s the most likable member of the group, suggests that they pull an Elvis Costello and play the song they were playing back at the prom. Harris, overcome by his brooding, stands in the rafters of the television studio and, after a brief pause, jumps to the floor below. All hell, rightfully, breaks loose.

At the hospital afterwards, Kelly freaks out and blames herself for Harris’ near-suicide. Well . . . again I’m getting ahead of myself as we first have to wait for the kindly elderly doctor to come out of the emergency room and inform us that Harris is going to survive . . . but he’s PARALYZED! Oh, good . . . now it’s a soap opera. Oh, and just to add insult to grievous injury, Casey is pregnant with Harris’ baby. Later, just for a little support and to play into the viewing audience’s fantasies, Casey goes to Roxanne (Erica Gavin), the lesbian fashion designer, for support. Casey, since she’s having pangs of guilt and shades of actual personality for the first time in this movie, wants to keep the baby, but Roxanne goes all psycho feminist on her. Catherine MacKinnon would be proud. She then starts blackmailing Casey with veiled threats about the reputation of her senator father while melodramatic soap opera music plays in the background. Some time later, Casey goes for an abortion (see . . . I told you it was like Crossroads!), but she freaks out when Pet starts making pancakes. Or at least the scene switched from Casey’s freakout to Pet making pancakes, so it seemed that the two events were related. Perhaps they were – like the “butterfly effect” and all that. After Pet serves Emerson some lovely flapjacks, our sinister ‘roid-raging boxer friend Randy shows up at their door. Luckily, he’s finally wearing a shirt. Maybe he learned to do that in prison. Randy, channeling Mike Tyson, beats down Emerson yet again and threatens Pet . . . then he takes the flowers that were meant for her. Heartless bastard.

Yet later, Casey and Roxanne have a picnic together . . . and then they make out. Good for them. Meanwhile, paralyzed Harris and Kelly play chess; he’s still, unfortunately, brooding . . . but now he’s cross-eyed as well. Sometime that evening, Ronnie calls Lance, who’s now sleeping with matronly women to make ends meet. Ah, the sad life of a fallen gigolo. At Susan’s pad that evening, there’s a party going on and all of the main characters are there; at Ronnie’s, there’s another party going on, and this one has everyone else in attendance. Otto (Henry Rowland), Ronnie’s German bartender, is dressed up like a very familiar Nazi; our Aryan friend then distributes superhero costumes to the rest of the attendees. After the dressing up, the guest congregate and do some peyote. Hmm . . . why do I get the feeling this is going to turn out badly?

After the drugs take effect, goofy music begins playing and a homoerotic orgy breaks out; Ronnie pairs up with Lance, Casey and Roxanne pair together – sadly, Otto is left with no one to play with, so I guess he just has to play with himself. Casey and Roxanne retreat to a bedroom where they share a tender moment. As the title song begins playing softly in the background, they GET IT ON! Meanwhile Lance and Ronnie are in another bedroom together; Ronnie, rather unsuccessfully, attempts to seduce Lance by giving the gigolo a surreptitious handjob. They begin to make out but Lance starts cracking up. Ronnie, now sexually frustrated, – and we all know what happens when people are sexually frustrated in every damn movie I’ve covered herein – vows REVENGE!

Later, deep into the night, Casey wakes from her Sapphic slumber. In the other room, Ronnie has Lance hogtied. So his form of revenge is S&M? Interesting. Perhaps it’s not, though, as Ronnie pulls a sword from a suit of armor just serendipitously standing in the room and quotes “Jabberwocky” a moment afterward. Lance, coming down from his high, tries to talk Ronnie down from his delusions of grandeur, but he discovers all there isn’t to know about the crying game instead as Ronnie is . . . is . . . A WOMAN! Yup, Ronnie pulls out her breasts, Lance freaks out, and then Ronnie beheads him. An enraged Ronnie, because bitches be REALLY crazy, chases Otto down to the beach just like we witnessed during the opening credits. She kills the ersatz Nazi and Casey watches the whole scene in horror – much like I am.

Once back inside, Ronnie trades the sword for a shiny handgun; she sneaks into Roxanne’s room and puts the barrel of the gun in her mouth. As before, she unconsciously fellates it and then wakes up. Unlike before, Ronnie shoots her with such force that blood erupts forth from her nostrils with remarkable velocity. Wow . . . did the movie suddenly become Evil Dead 2? In another room of the house, Casey makes a quick telephone call to our heroes, who quickly leave their apartment to rescue her. Oh, so it’s Scooby Doo now, eh? Make up your mind, movie! The gang arrives VERY quickly, but not before Ronnie blows Casey’s brains out. Remember this for future reference. Outside, Ronnie plugs Pet in the arm, but she survives to see Emerson and Kelly scuffle with Ronnie and then Kelly shoot and kill Ronnie. Somewhere along the line, Harris miraculously regains the use of his legs; good for him. In the denouement, Harris and Kelly drive to a field and then some voiceover guy gives us a profound monologue reviewing the characters and their fatal flaws . . . their hamartia, if you will. In the end, Susan and Baxter, Emerson and Pet, and Kelly and Harris all get married while Porter prunes some bushes. OK, then.

Remember in the last paragraph when I said that you should remember when Ronnie shoots Casey in the head for future reference? Well, I’ll explain why. It seems that the inspiration for the character of Ronnie is none other than legendary record producer/raving lunatic Phil Spector. Spector, even back in the ‘60s, was well known for his very odd and arbitrary behavior. Fast forward to recent history, and lo and behold Spector is on trial for the murder of a woman in his mansion. Meyer and Ebert: eerily prescient. Somehow, I think that this is a fitting addendum to the legacy of Beyond the Valley of the Dolls; don’t ask me why, but it is.