Review by Louis Fowler |
Available from Synapse Films | Buy at amazon.com
"Let me die a woman!"
How many times a day does I shout that to the heavens? By last count, zero.
But now that I've finally seen Doris Wishman's wonderfully grotesque 1978 sex change exploitation-doc masterpiece, I can honestly say that number's up to three. And that's on a slow day.
I can guarantee you have never seen a movie like this – Doris Wishman, pretty much the female equivalent of Russ Meyer – helmed many 60s nudie-cuties and the notorious Chesty Morgan flicks wherein the massively busty Morgan would smother enemies with her gigantic, luscious boobs. So far, so good.
And then something happened... With LET ME DIE A WOMAN, she veers off into this extreme, mondo-bizarre territory with graphic on-screen sex changes, hilariously out-dated scientific findings and a group of the most unconvincing drag queens ever put together in one room. After all, this is one of John Water's fave flicks – isn't that recommendation enough?
The film starts off with Leslie getting up and starting her day. She takes off her nighttime – she has nice, pert titties. Good for her. My, what a lovely figure. Then, as she takes off her panties, well, I'll be darned, she's got a hairy wang. Sweet Jesus.
I can only imagine the hilarity that ensued when this was shown in those 42nd street grindhouses. Just imagine – you show up in your raincoat, horny as heck. You have no preconceptions – you think this is just another anonymous skin-flick, and as you prepare yourself – zipper open, penis out – holy shit, there's two she-males grinding privates.
How do your ask your money back after something like that?
On the flip-side, I bet that, back in those more puritan times, there were more than a few peeps who were either a) turned on to a new fetish or b) finally glad someone had made something just for them.
Of course, in this jaded age where every form of porno is available, LET ME DIE A WOMAN is no longer the "revolting" shocker it once was. In this age of cinematic irony, MST3K and massive availability of such once underground things like hygiene films, to most, this is just another film to add to the exploitation pile. But upon watching, it's so much more. It's filmed in such a kinetic, disjointed style that rides that razor of educational film (thank you, Dr. Wollman) and pure third sex apocalyptica. The most-mentioned highlight is the transgendered encounter group, and it lives up to everything I have read about. They are so not-what-you-consider-transgendered by today's standards that, for the most part, it feels like an obvious, easy joke. I still wonder how real it all was.
The other oft-mentioned scene is the footage of the sex-change operation. I'm not going to do the stereotypical guy thing and say, "Bro, I shifted in my seat!" or make some such reference. We've all seen enough surgery footage that, genitals or not, it's really just another walk in the part. Albeit a bloody, disfigured park.
So, I beg of you, America, to run to your video store and scream at the salesperson "Let me die a woman!" Chances are you'll get thrown out, but maybe – just maybe – with a knowing wink that salesperson will have just what you're looking for.
Hopefully it's the movie.
