Bleak and political yet achingly hip (for 1979, anyway) and righteous, Kaplan expertly uses his New World exploitation training, along with a carefully assembled young cast and an even-handed script by Haas and Hunter. Over twelve hours later, I still just want to turn Ramones or The Who up loud and smash shit up.
Peaks and the other women are uncharismatic and dull (certainly not up to the standard of RM's golden-era starlets), but the segments where RM recounts his WWII on a trip through Germany are fascinating, and perhaps an indication of how we could expect if The Breast Of Russ Meyer ever sees a release. Plus, how many edits in this thing?!