Breast Wishes, Russ Meyer
Me and my bosom buddy Annie Sprinkle visit the King of Bosomania.
(Adam, 1986) Russ Meyer’s ability to seduce an audience was surprisingly obvious the day I first met him at the 1986 video software show in Las Vegas. Throughout the Sahara Hotel’s large exhibition hall, dozens of scantily-clad porn stars stood behind counters and signed autographs vying for the attention of fans. Hundreds more starlets smiled lecherously from the shiny video box covers displayed over walls, sales desks and shelves. Amidst all of this eye candy a crowd began to develop in the center of the room where Russ Meyer, seemingly oblivious to the competition, sat at a round table, chomped down on a pastrami sandwich and watched a TV set. He might have been sitting comfortably in his own kitchen, but behind him, the throng of people grew larger and larger as scores of men watched the screen in front of Mr. Meyer. Was it *Up!* or *Vixen* or *Beyond The Valley Of The Dolls* or any one of the dozen movies created by “the king of bosomania” that captured their attention? Were they mesmerized by the bouncing bazoombas of Kitten Natividad, the gravity-defying chest of Raven De La Croix, or the tumbling titties of Ms. Edy Williams spilling from a dress that was almost there?
No; rather than hustling cheesecake, Mr. Meyer’s attentions were concentrated on beefcake as the Dolphins and Chargers battled it out. Russ Meyer watched the football game and the world watched with him. This determination to do what he wants to do and to let the chips fall where they may has been the key to Russ Meyer’s success. True to his passions, he tapped into his own fantasies and his audience followed. Russ Meyer did not invent the world’s preoccupation with big breasts but he sure has made the most of it. Since the mid-sixties his films, which glorify as he might describe it “assault with a deadly bosom,” have scored legions of fans internationally.
I interrupt Mr. Meyer, who is also scribbling steadily into a yellow legal pad, to introduce myself and ask if I might call sometime to keep up with news about his company. “Sure,” he tells me, passing on the number, “and if I happen to be in Europe, you can talk to my big-breasted bookkeeper or amply endowed secretary”. The next time I am in Los Angeles, I telephone Russ Meyer and after some coaxing, he agrees to an interview.
I am with my high heel journalist partner photographer Annie Sprinkle in a Thai restaurant just off the Sunset Strip; we are drinking a delicious blend of iced coffee and honey while I write down some questions to ask Russ Meyer. For a moment we are silent and then both at the same time ask, “Wonder what he likes to do with those fabulous breasts?”. I write down the question, we pay our check and hop in the car to begin the trip into the Hollywood Hills. After getting lost a few dozen times, we arrive at the home/museum of Russ Meyer.
Mr. Meyer does not like to throw anything away. This house was purchased as a location for *Beyond The Valley Of The Ultra Vixens*, one of the two films Russ Meyer made for 20th Century-Fox, and it is filled with movie memorabilia; “These films are my legacy,” says Mr. Meyer, “they are my children”.
Also precious to him are the relationships he has had with people over the years, particularly his voluptuous stars. It is a very happy day for the filmmaker as he has just sent his autobiography off to his agent. The book is entitled *Russ Meyer, The Rural Fellini*.
He says, “The ‘rural’ aspect comes in because most of my films are mostly shot in some shitkicker circumstance... The girls have one dress and one set of underwear. The men are mostly fighting or making love... Lots of big girls and dumb guys, that’s my style.
“I have been fortunate to know so many great ladies who have contributed hugely to my career, my life and my films... I think the book will show them how important they were to me and how much pleasure they gave me”.
Russ Meyer has been married three times and had countless love affairs.
“Big breasts are absolutely mandatory... Without big breasts, I play cards”.
Ms. Sprinkle and I at 38” are mere small potatoes to the filmmaker whose dream girls measure 48”-21”-34”.
