Blood Of The Vines: Russ Meyer

The late Russ Meyer's films are the epitome of excess.  Pairing a wine with them seems unfair to the wine.  It couldn't possibly keep up.  Whiskey might be more appropriate, or a shot of tequila or three, or a bottle of Captain Morgan and a liter of Coke.  However, I am sure we will stumble across a wine that leans into life like Meyer did.

Russ Meyer's IMDB page nicknames him "The Fellini of the Sex Industry" and "King Leer."  The sultan of sexploitation liked big breasts better than anything else.  His stint as a Playboy centerfold photographer in the 1950s may have steered him in that direction.  Playboy wine, direct from their recently launched wine club?  Why not?  For starters, anyway.

Meyer rued the day he started working on The Seven Minutes.  He later called the film "boring and tedious" - like a life of nothing but Chardonnay.  He said, "What the public wants are big laughs and big tits and lots of 'em. Lucky for me that’s what I like, too."  And who are we to argue with a cinematic genius?  This movie is mainly a talky courtroom drama - think Perry Mason with references to women's orgasms thrown in.  Spicy Zinfandel is a good grape for a spicy director, so try this movie with The 7 Deadly Zins.

The one-sheet for Mudhoney describes it as "a film of ribaldry and violence made from the juice of life."  That’s great, but we're looking for the juice of grapes here.  Mudhoney is the second of Meyer's mid-'60s B&W quartet - a Depression-era tale of loners, wife beaters, whorehouses and an insane preacher man.  Isn't it ironic that America banned alcohol just when it needed it most?  Get Mudhoney going with a wine from L.A.'s own San Antonio Winery, which was able to remain open for business during Prohibition by making sacramental wine.  Peace be with you.

Let's say you want to make a movie about an all-girl rock band whose members go to Hollywood to make it big.  They sink into sex, drugs and decadence even before they catch the Uber out of LAX.  Hello?  Mr. Meyer?  Beyond the Valley of the Dolls was tailor made for Russ Meyer's special brand of sex kitten sadism.  As their album cover claims, they're "looking up at the bottom," so we want to pair a wine that makes us feel all rich and safe and WHERE THE HELL ARE MY PILLS??  No bum wine here, we've got to keep up appearances.  Maybe a Ménage à Trois, Decadence, would go well with the general vibe here.  Cabernet with a splash of Merlot.  Groovy, man.


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