Having spent his WW II military duty wisely, obtaining formal training in both photography and cinematography (ostensibly to document war scenes), Russ Meyer spent the intervening decade trying to gain foothold in Hollywood, contributing connecting footage for THE JAMES DEAN STORY, a pseudo-documentary rushed into production to pay homage to – or cash in on, depending one’s views of mankind’s moral fiber – the recently deceased iconic actor. Since such did not automatically lead to other assignments, Meyer made his own luck on the shady side of town, shooting sleazy B movies like Louis B. Appleton’s THE DESPERATE WOMEN and striptease shorts like THE FRENCH PEEP SHOW recording the stage performance of legendary Tempest Storm for posterity.
Meanwhile, nudist camp or “naturist” movies (as they were apologetically acknowledged) like Max Nosseck’s 1954 GARDEN OF EDEN and – on the other side of the pond – Charles Saunders’ NUDIST PARADISE had struck a blow for the legalized exposure of the unfettered female form, albeit in a resolutely non-sexual context. This in no way deterred audiences who couldn’t care less about the supposed health benefits of “au naturel” sunbathing but merely came to ogle what was yet to become known as T&A.
Nobody’s fool when it came to spotting a money-making venture ahead of everyone else, Meyer simply went one step further, taking the nudity out of the family-friendly communal context and brazenly relocating it within everyday situations (though still dissociated from eroticism), giving birth to the short-lived “nudie cutie” sub-genre which begot THE ADVENTURES OF LUCKY PIERRE by Herschell Gordon Lewis and David Friedman (another eagle-eyed trend watcher and band wagon hopper) and NOT TONIGHT, HENRY from Ted Paramore, the man who eventually became hardcore mogul “Harold Lime”. For the sake of historical accuracy however, giving credit where it’s due, Russ got there first, kick-starting an unparalleled carnal cinematic career in as much as being the recipient of considerable critical praise long before its author’s passing.
The simple set-up for THE IMMORAL MR. TEAS has Meyer’s army buddy Bill Teas playing a naive delivery man in dental appliances, faced with the temptations personified by the provocatively attired yet unattainable women he encounters on his daily route like the dentist’s assistant who gives new meaning to the term “plunging neckline” and an absent-minded but tight-sweater-ed coffee shop waitress. Relaxing on a secluded strip of beach after a hard day’s work, he spies on a glamor photographer convincing bikini-clad model Dawn Danielle to pop her top. A dose of laughing gas as part of root canal treatment, which must surely be considered some sort of fringe benefit given his line of employment, equips Mr. Teas with the uncanny ability to see through ladies’ clothes as they obliviously go about their business ! Hence the previous teasing finally pays off and although (or precisely because) the girls’ actions while naked are casual and devoid of any overt eroticism, the impact on audiences of the day must have been substantial.
Meyer counter-balances these “ignorant” skin displays with situations where nudity would more naturally occur such as a stripper strutting her stuff at a house of burlesque (watch out for the director’s cameo as an audience member) and even the odd jokey juxtaposition like cutting from a fruit stand overflowing with ripe melons to a headless shot of the ample wares – probably the sole set up to Meyer’s subsequently well-documented taste in size – of popular British nude model June Wilkinson who went on to star in saucy ’60s favorites as Doug Fowley’s delirious MACUMBA LOVE and Harold David’s CAREER GIRL along with major studio risqué fare like Albert Zugsmith’s THE PRIVATE LIVES OF ADAM AND EVE and the Francis Ford Coppola-lensed inserts for the German THE BELLBOY AND THE PLAYGIRLS. While the character of Mr. Teas was conceived as a kind of naughty version of Jacques Tati’s revered Mr. Hulot personage, most of the intended comedy falls flat due to poor timing, a rare exception provided by the scene in which an apparent prostitute literally tries to talk our beleaguered anti-hero out of his rumpled overalls, only to have her turn out as a housewife with too much time on her hands who just wants to do the Good Samaritan thing by ironing his clothes, much to his obvious disappointment !
Correctly if unceremoniously photographed by Meyer, who would flex his artistic muscles far more conspicuously on subsequent outings, the movie was shot without live sound. Instead, it has hilariously overblown narration – soon to become a directorial trademark – by prolific TV writer Edward J. Lakso who rather astonishingly also supplied an insanely catchy theme tune which should grate on your last nerve well before fade-out. Aside from never being particularly funny, the surprisingly extensive nude scenes in flick’s second half make it hold up remarkably well half a century down the line. True, the rating on this one’s a bit tricky, quite generous in light of the film’s intrinsic qualities. The tremendous historical importance of Meyer’s pioneering effort should not be underestimated however. Nudies gave way to “roughies” and “ghoulies” as the ’60s progressed, mutating and evolving into the suddenly socially acceptable theatrically screened soft- and hardcore adult movies of the following decades.
