Big Bosoms and Square Jaws: The Biography of Russ Meyer, King of the Sex Film (Hardcover)

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Editorial Reviews

From Publishers Weekly

[Signature]Reviewed by Legs McNeilGod I love slang, I really do, especially when it's used to write a biography of a man obsessed with only two things in life: WWII and heaving, pendulous breasts."Subtitled The Biography of Russ Meyer, King of the Sex Film, McDonough's work paints a two-fisted tale of the legendary filmmaker who helped launch the sexual revolution with his scandalous Immoral Mr. Teas in 1959; caused a rip in the time/space continuum of the psychedelic 1960s with Mondo Topless and Super Vixens; and clenched the beatnik and punk ethics with Faster Pussycat, Kill, Kill! and Beneath the Valley of the Ultra Vixens.Meyer was a square who helped define hip in an unhip time—those incredibly boring 1950s.Way cool, except that books that rely on slang don't usually read too well. Witness Meyer's own three-volume autobiography, A Clean Breast. It's an unreadable 1,150-page work that pursues the diary of a breast fetishist. Very interesting, but monotonous.A Clean Breast leaves you thanking God for McDonough's book, which, like Meyer's, pushes the limits of vernacular use, but, unlike Meyer's, succeeds, because McDonough's slang is so damn funny—as in: "A stiff swirl of cotton-candy blond hair, lips like over-stuffed couches mating, a lethal weapon body—there was something plain wicked about Lorna Maitland. Her terminally unimpressed scowl seemed to suggest that your balls were not long for this world."Although McDonough (Shakey) infuses his book with well-researched history, he always comes back to Meyer's obsession with buxom gals: "Meyer likened the process to an affair. After poring over every inch of their bodies with his camera eye, he'd grow bored—and so would they.... Once you've unwrapped them, the thrill is gone."But what if you really don't care about an incredibly immature man who spent his whole life engaging in "quickies," producing and directing cheap films about stacked women and hanging out drinking with his WWII buddies?Here McDonough hits on a stroke of genius—he displays Meyer nurturing his macho image and melting down when that image is breached. Big Bosoms and Square Jaws is a fun, twisted romp through the life of one of America's most celebrated, sordid—and ultimately sad—filmmakers. Given that Meyer died last year, McDonough has done us all a favor by being serious enough to write the silly and cerebral story of a cad who defined America's lowbrow culture. Photos.
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From Booklist

McDonough persuasively argues that Russ Meyer, creator of such epic films as Super Vixens and Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill! is the father of the modern porn industry, a pop cultural icon in his own right, and something of an auteur who may be appreciated more by film historians of the future than he is now. Meyer achieved technical excellence in low-to-no-budget productions that reveal his "oddly passionate vision of the world," says McDonough. In so doing, Meyer was "a pioneer who represents what's most seductive and what's most repulsive about the USA." McDonough proceeds to compare Meyer to, among others, Elvis (seductive and repulsive, after all) and incorporates vivid, well-referenced anecdotes and observations from Meyer's friends, associates, and stars, including most notably, perhaps, movie critic Roger Ebert (coconspirator for Meyer's crowning achievement, Beyond the Valley of the Dolls) and porn-parodist director John Waters. Four Meyer movies have been among Variety's 100 all-time top grossers. McDonough would have us acknowledge that Meyer is gross (German for great) for more than boffo BO. Mike Tribby
Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved

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Product Details

• Hardcover: 480 pages
• Publisher: Crown (June 28, 2005)
• Language: English
• ISBN-10: 1400050448
• ISBN-13: 978-1400050444
• Product Dimensions: 9.8 x 6.5 x 1.8 inches
• Shipping Weight: 1.8 pounds
• Average Customer Review: 4.3 out of 5 stars  See all reviews (9 customer reviews)
• Amazon.com Sales Rank: #669,780 in Books (See Bestsellers in Books)

Customer Reviews

Most Helpful Customer Reviews

22 of 22 people found the following review helpful:

5.0 out of 5 stars A Brilliant Biography of a Unique Filmmaker, July 24, 2005

By	R. Hardy "Rob Hardy" (Columbus, Mississippi USA) - See all my reviews (TOP 50 REVIEWER)    (REAL NAME)

There's Eisenstein, Hitchcock, Scorsese, and then there's Russ Meyer. Oh, he's in a completely different category, you say? Well, sure, but that doesn't keep Jimmy McDonough from making the comparisons to those other directors in his book _Big Bosoms and Square Jaws: The Biography of Russ Meyer, King of the Sex Film_ (Crown). This is a thoroughly entertaining look at an influential director who possibly more than any other moviemaker did things his own way. His own way: the title of the book says it all, and note that "square jaws" comes in a distinct second. Meyer liked breasts, he liked big ones, and bigger ones, and when silicone came in, he liked monstrous ones, as McDonough says, "huge, unbelievable, sometimes scary appendages... female superstructures that defied reality." That wasn't all there was to it; McDonough admires much else in Meyer's filmmaking. Sure, he was the one to bring sex into the forefront of movies, but he was keen on photography and editing, and Quentin Tarantino, Tim Burton, and John Waters claim him as an influence. He has had serious retrospectives at, say, the Metropolitan Museum of Art. He was a severely limited personality and lover, and he put those limitations on the screen, an extraordinarily personal self-portrait. And he had a damned good time, even if those working with him couldn't stand it.

Meyer was born in 1922. He didn't get further in movies than becoming a theater usher before joining the Army, where he shot newsreels in the 166th Signal Photographic Company. He documented the advances of Generals Bradley and Patton, and it was the most important experience of his life. His Army buddies became his family, and often appeared or helped in his movies. When he eventually started making movies, he had an aggressive style which one assistant said was "...like being in the first wave landing in Normandy during World War II, crossed with a weekend in a whorehouse." After the war, Meyer took his photographic skills to the men's magazines of the time, taking pictures of women that exaggerated their curves. He made industrial films, learning the basics of cinema.. His first fully entertainment film was _The Immoral Mr. Teas_ in 1959, about a Mittyesque bumbler who had the inner life of imagining the females around him naked. This quaint storyline allowed Meyer to put in all the shots he wanted of busty women naked from the waste up. It seems rather old-fashioned now, but the San Diego police confiscated it 20 minutes into its first screening. Later, Meyer would make films with dialogue and action. McDonough admires the films, and goes into detail on the making of each one. Meyer put his breast obsession into them, of course, but he did not make the sort of X-rated movies like _Deep Throat_. He didn't like regular porn as we have come to know it; he sniffed, "There's a difference. I spend 14 months making a film. Not 30 minutes in a motel room." Part of the reason he didn't like such films is that he didn't like the activities they depicted. He regarded anything other than missionary-position sex as some sort of perversion, and perversion was, he said, "un-American." His many wives and lovers confirm that he was no good at foreplay or other such niceties; in his own words he just wanted to get in there and "wail away at it." He did not have a great need to ensure satisfaction in his partners, but he engaged in no perversions - he saved that for his movies.

However women feel about Meyer's depiction of them, men can't feel any better about their roles, "mere wisps of beings that are about as vague as Meyer's father." Meyer thought that men were "lunch-pail-carrying saps." Woe to the husbands in his movies: "I feel that it's important to really give that husband a bad, bad time," he said, and in one movie after another the husbands are weak, ineffectual, and cuckolded. It is thus especially sad that Meyer spent his lonely last years handled by a female caretaker as he slipped further into dementia, dying only last year. McDonough is surprisingly tender about this descent in a book that is sometimes just as crude and vivacious as Meyer's movies, with a slangy prose that sometimes sounds the way Meyer would talk ("Everything about this shot is perfecto.") The book is big, stuffed with material from Meyer's own thousand-page autobiography and with interviews of those who worked with him, especially his actresses. Meyer may not be everyone's idea of a genius, but he made millions on thirty films, only two of which were within the studio system, and he produced, directed, photographed, and edited every one of them. He took his obsession and made some sort of art out of it, art that millions are still enjoying. McDonough's affectionate and thorough biography is a brilliant portrait of an American original.

12 of 12 people found the following review helpful:

5.0 out of 5 stars Beneath the Valley of RM, August 30, 2005

By	John Ashley Nail (Decatur, GA United States) - See all my reviews (REAL NAME)

My first real introduction to the late Russ Meyer was through John Waters' book "Shock Value." In that book, the director of "Pink Flamingos" introduces us to the director of "Faster, Pussycat, Kill! Kill!" That Russ Meyer is a kindly, eccentric man - a lech and a male chauvinist, but still a gentleman. Sort of a cross between schlock producer Dave Friedman and Playboy founder Hugh Hefner. It was this side of Meyer that colored my perception of him. In an article written for Premiere magazine in the late, late 1990s by B-movie actress Jewel Shepard, I got introduced, albeit briefly, to Meyer's grouchier side. Shepard encounters RM at a video convention and records how he yells at a photographer, warning him he better not be using a fish-eye lens (an odd complaint, Shepard observes, from a man famous for using camera angles that exaggerate his stars' zeppelin-like breasts). I wasn't so sure if I wanted to know this Meyer, the grumpy, controlling one.

In Jimmy McDonough's excellent biography, "Big Bosoms and Square Jaws," we get to know all sides of Russ Meyer: The teddy bear with a big heart; the mama's boy who wanted to keep his mother at a distance; the control freak who ruled his sets like a tyrannical dictator; the devoted friend (especially to his WWII buddies from the 166th) who'd later excommunicate longtime pals over the merest slight, real or imagined; and finally the sad, old man who turned control of his well-endowed empire over to an office assistant who spent the last years of Meyer's life building a up a wall between the director and those who cared about him. Along the way we meet the women - Tura Satana, Haji, Alaina Capri, Erica Gavin and the incomparable Kitten Natividad - all of these vixens formidable beyond their outsized measurements (Natividad, in particular, is so sweet and adorable you want to give her a big hug). Also interviewed are several of Meyer's WWII pals, John Waters (who Meyer later turned against, some claiming he was jealous of Waters' mainstream success in the mid-1980s) and longtime collaborator, film critic Roger Ebert.

Meyer's story is, not surprisingly, an action-packed tale filled with loud confrontations, tender moments and, of course, women with gigantic breasts. After reading about how the director behaved on set I now understand why so many actors in Meyer's movies seem on the verge of some hysterical outburst, be it anger or tears. By all accounts, working on a Russ Meyer film was tantamount to being in boot camp. Still, his friends stuck by him, even those who were, for one reason or another, jettisoned from Meyer's inner circle. The Meyer story winds down on a sad note, with the director suffering from dementia/Alzheimer's. Just as tragic, RM Films is now, by all accounts, in the hands of people who have no real interest in Meyer's legacy beyond how much cash it can generate.

As with his biography on low-budget filmmaker Andy Milligan, "The Ghastly One" (which does, as the author notes, mirror Meyer's story in many strange ways), McDonough admires his subject but neither sets out to write a puff piece nor a hatchet job. He's respectful of Meyer but acknowledges his faults. Any contradictions in people's accounts-especially Meyer's-are duly noted, usually in footnotes. It's a must-read for any fan of Russ Meyer's work or of exploitation movies in general. And it's a hell of a lot more affordable than Meyer's three-volume self-published autobiography. (There was one small error I noticed, though: In a chapter detailing the work of other exploitation filmmakers of Meyer's day, McDonough credits the movie "Wham, Bam, Thank You Spaceman" to producer David Friedman; it was actually released by Harry Novak. McDonough's assessment of Friedman's movies, that they are "grade-Z re-creations of grade-B Hollywood product," still applies, however.)

4 of 4 people found the following review helpful:

5.0 out of 5 stars Phenomenal ! ! !, October 31, 2006

By	Eddie Landsberg "10 years reviewing on Amazon... (Tokyo, Japan) - See all my reviews (TOP 500 REVIEWER)

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To sum things up, this is a fascinatingly written book about a fascinating topic.... despite its somewhat voluminous 400 or so pages (only a fraction of A CLEAN BREAST of course) I found it impossible to put down in light of the great stories and great writing. Jimmy McDonough proves himself not only a great fan of Meyer, but also one who's learned well from his "fast cut" style of directing... The book reads with the intensity of Meyer as a film director at his best (say Faster Pussycat or Super Vixens.)

At times hillarious, the only sad part is the ending which also offers an explanation to the big question of why Russ's films are so hard to find... and one is left with an ironic impression of his legacy: one in which the general public still wants more, but if the author's (researched) allegations are true may not get to see for a long long time.

Ironically, as I read the final page of the book, I didn't feel it was a final chapter, but was left wanting to know more about a film director with a strange fetish who unintentionally changed the world we live in... and considering Russ's flare for perpetuating his own myth and surrounding himself with some amazing people who's stories have simply yet to be told my hope is that this book is only the begining !