Pervert! is really what was made for, giving the films that you’d usually turn down or turn off a fair chance to impress. This review does not contain spoilers, if there is even the slightest chance you might ever actively seek out a film called Pervert! I dont want to ruin the ending for you, because it is the best bit. The world of Pervert! is populated by porn stars, thats the most important thing to understand, and they have have serious wardrobe malfunctions at every turn, and they just as often don’t have any (conventional) wardrobe at all. This isn’t porn though. Its also the least scary thing you’ll ever see, even though it is billed as horror comedy – so is it funny? In essence, does it have a point at all? Well apparently its all a tribute to Russ Meyer. I have to admit I vaguely recognized (name wise) as the director of Faster Pussycat Kill! Kill!, which is a pretty classic exploitation flick from the sixties, but that didn’t have millions of naked ladies in it, I mean I seem to remember they were barely clothed but they didn’t just drive around topless. So I had to contextualize myself with a quick internet search – a dangerous move in the world of Pervert! as you can imagine. The apparently estimable Mr Meyer did make a heap of other exploitation flicks which apparently did feature loads of huge breasted women running around with no clothes on. So on the most basic level we can view this as a fitting tribute to a director who was loved by at least one man, the director of Pervert! So does it work on any other level? Well not really, because to discuss it you have to ignore the issue of reviving a genre which most definitely should have been left in the sixties to die for numerous obvious reasons – that is if you can even call this a genre, and even if you could I have no idea what you would call it. So by doing said ignoring we come to the “how funny is it question” – this looks like everyone had a brilliant time making it, it revels in its crapness and every scene you can imagine everyone present cracking up at the shout of cut, and this does come across on screen. It made me laugh a couple of times, especially the end. The “meat sculptures” could almost be construed as social satire – as could the whole film if you had the time to get yourself out of the conceptual mind box that renting a movie which makes no bones about it being largely about tits puts you in. I do not have that time. Watch this film if you are a little bit drunk and you are sure no one in the room will label you a sexist. I leave you with this thought, why do directors of only the crappest films inspire tributes as lovingly crafted as this?


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