Trash Film Blog

It's feature #2 and Russ Meyer is already repeating himself. After the Earth-shattering box office receipts from The Immoral Mr. Teas informing the world that audiences just want tits already, Meyer the savvy businessman proved he is one and the same as Meyer the crazed auteur and churned out a

Bill Teas, a dopey, average schlub waltzes around town ogling cleavage and sneaking peaks at nude ladies.

That's it.

This is the film that created "sexploitation", delivered real nudity to the screen, caused censor boards around the country to become so enraged their skeletons

Listen to this, the theme for Two Thousand Maniacs! written by director Herschell Gordon Lewis.

Now that this tune is permanently engraved on your brain stem and therefore affecting basic motor functionality, go make some coffee, take a seat right there. No, over there by the

Give Eileen Lord an Oscar. Even if you sculpt it out of Floam and manage to break your huffing regimen long enough to spray-paint it a flat gold in your backyard, just do it already. Her full-tilt screeching dementia intermittently sidelined by repressed, boiling menace is more batshit crazy and

After title cards in a classic Hollywood vein intercut with a couple not-quite-fucking-but-rolling-around-and-kissing-in-bed, our true smutty feature takes shape. Three women decide to purchase a house on Staten Island and transform it into a home for working girls. They choose bedrooms, screech