Russ Meyer's Lorna

Lorna Maitland was one of Meyer's rare "finds." Physically stunning but as easily engaged as was the earlier Monroe, one easily fantasizes a personal encounter with her. The river bathing scene, partially obscured by tree branches, makes you her willing voyeur; her eventual passionate response to the convict escapee who rapes her, tells you that you might also have your way with her should you ever somehow meet.

I found the violence in the film to be gratuitous albeit realistic and disturbing; as in Cherry, Harry, and Raquel, a later Meyer (color) film, the viewer is torn from (his) fantasy of passion and plunged into anger and terror. Why Meyer felt he had to mix the two escapes me, but therefore, his films are doubly memorable; along with the river scene, the shotgun blast from under the hood of the old car is equally etched.

Lorna Maitland, like Roberta Pedon of another genre, had a short stay in the limelight; with their early passing, they share a unique, cult-like icon status.

After spending the first few years of his career on traditional 'nudie cuties', director Russ Meyer made his first foray into 'real' film- making with 1964's Lorna, written by and starring James Griffith. Though his colourful visuals and sense of humour were evident in the likes of The Immoral Mr. Teas (1959) and Eve and the Handyman (1961), these films were still very much confined to being nothing more than a peep show. With Lorna, Meyer resorted to black-and-white photography, but whether this was for budgetary reasons or stylistic choice, I don't know. But the decision to shoot this way gives the film more gravitas, and the attention is moved away from the big-breasts and onto the story and script, giving birth to the auteur that is now so revered.

Beginning with the rape of a girl named Ruthie (Althea Currier), the two men responsible, Luther (Hal Hopper) and Jonah (Doc Scortt), travel to work and pick up Jim (James Rucker) on the way. Jim is married to the beautiful Lorna (Lorna Maitland), who is sexually unsatisfied by the nice-guy Jim. Luther proceeds to tease Jim about Lorna at work, while an escaped convict (Mark Bradley) forces himself onto Lorna. Lorna is extremely turned on, and invites the convict back to the house where she feeds and washes him. Clearly, it's not the most complex of plots, but we are in familiar Meyer territory with square-jawed men, put-upon women, and a funky jazz score.

One of the most familiar traits of a Meyer film is the narrator. Commonly, the role of the narrator in his films was to play the traditional man, one that obeyed the values and traditions of the 1950's American. The idea of sexual repression was clearly something that amused Meyer, and in Lorna, he employs James Griffith to play 'the Man of God', who is littered throughout the film addressing the audience directly to camera and questioning their moral fibre. He introduces the film, and this leads to one of the best moments in the films. He stands in the middle of a wide desert road, allowing the camera to glide past him and forward into the unknown as the jazz score kicks in. It's a lovely little touch, and a clear indication that this isn't simple another nudie-cutie.

This is far from his best work, with Lorna being relatively subdued in comparison to his more wilder visions such as Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill! (1965) and especially Beyond the Valley of the Dolls (1970), and Lorna's pandering to the violent convict may seem rather chauvinistic in comparison to the majority of Meyer's output, where the female was quite often the dominant sex. But this was only the beginning of a now widely- celebrated career, so Meyer was still very much honing his craft. His sense of humour is unmistakable however, and one of the standout scenes has the despicable Luther writing and performing a song about Lorna's adultery to Jonah. It's played out so naturally that the two start to really laugh, making the scene really quite wonderful. It's this kind of playfulness that make Meyer's output such as joy to watch.

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Meyer is at his beginning's of film-making (esp for what was to come) when Lorna came out. An earlier commentator remarked it has a very (since it's shot in B&W) film noir quality to it. I agree but it's more like American film noir say -- for the bold rape scenes are over the top. However, if gritty fiction with this type of scenes depicted you like, this movie may be for you -- it's that '60's camp feel that really doesn't let most viewers take it too seriously, I think. An 8 was fair because anything Meyer does I am partial to because of his unique style, independent spirit and sense of creating something different in a time when people were jailed, or at least critically blasted as "pornographers". Meyer was not this though. He was always more interested in telling a coherent, fast-paced story & filming what was going on above the waist -- but spicing it up with (real) buxom women who mostly held the "power" over men (esp in later Meyer films) was his real signature style that will hold Meyer up as the best B-grade movie maker of all time. KING LEER - R.I.P. in that big bosom in the sky!

Top notch Meyer with magnificent b/w photography, assured and vigorous editing and a super effective soundtrack. The presence of Lorna Maitland does nothing to distract but this is a movie about much more than DD breasts. It is far more about the very nature of man and woman. It is uncomfortable stuff with men delighting in humiliating and fighting each other and the possibility of getting the woman of their dreams. The rapes, both non consensual and vaguely consensual, turning romantic, are difficult but intrinsic to the flimsy, but oh so basic and believable storyline. The soothsayer and rather melodramatic ending may be a little over the top but this is a fine well told tale of human animals lusting and being lusted over. Sex, eating and dying, just about sums this up and it strikes such a basic chord, one is in awe at how simple Meyer has made it look.

British film distributors in the 50s and 60s would often acquire a film banned by the British Board of Film Censors and then tout it round regional authorities to get it passed for exhibition locally. The most famous example was The Wild One (1953) where Columbia managed to flout the censor's ban by getting permission to open the film in Cambridge for three weeks, then Glasgow for five weeks, and at a number of other places. Even more successful were Eros Films who persuaded 181 local authorities to pass Garden of Eden (1955). The cost of arranging so many previews for councillors was far outweighed by the box office returns, with so many people eager to see a banned film.

Grand National Film Distributors thought they had a money-maker with Russ Meyer's Lorna (1964), rejected by the BBFC on 2 February 1965. Featuring Meyer's latest top-heavy discovery Lorna Maitland, the film is actually quite well made, by no means indecent and with an odd religious message. However, most councillors thought the story of a dissatisfied housewife who finds fulfilment with an escaped rapist unsuitable even for local adults, and the film was rejected nearly everywhere – until it reached Blackburn Borough Council. For whatever reason, their watch committee considered it perfectly OK for Blackburn folk to see Lorna do her stuff. And so, on 16 January 1966 at the Essoldo circuit's Royal Cinema in Ainsworth Street, Lorna was finally unveiled in public, probably the only time the Lancashire textile town had hosted a premiere. Disappointingly, the film ran only one week, and people were not coming from all over England to see Lorna perform. Undaunted, the distributors carried on touring local authorities and, in June 1966, tried to get the film passed in Southend-on-Sea. Essex County Council said nothing doing. Like Miss Maitland in the film, Grand National probably lost their shirts.

LATER SHOWINGS: After being banned in Southend-on-Sea, Lorna was later permitted a week on the Lincolnshire coast. Lindsey district council granted Lorna a local "X" and the film ran at the ABC cinema, Cleethorpes, from Sunday, 1 December 1968.