SWAMP WOMEN opens and closes with profuse thanks to the city of New Orleans and the state of Louisiana for help in making this film. If any of the people who are mentioned actually saw SWAMP WOMEN they may have insisted that the filmmakers thank Florida instead. The truth is, there seems to be few shots set in New Orleans; the rest of the film takes place in unidentifiable swampland (and various swimming pools). The basic story involves a gang of women, hidden diamonds and, of course, catfights. The woman in this film (after having cut the legs off their jeans) roll around in mud, water, and dirt, often times going from one to the other in the same scene. When their limbs are not entangled in heated female rage, the women sit around and talk, or sometimes dock a boat. It’s all about the “bling” for these girls, so when they become stranded ashore they “boat-jack” two young lovers who are out admiring the fettering malaria-infested bayou locales. The girlfriend gets eaten by a shark (or something) along the way, but they keep her hunky boyfriend (Mike “Touch” Conners) tied up as an insurance policy. Considering all four of the girls are sweet on this guy, being a hostage does not seem like such a bad gig. Anyway, the plot of SWAMP WOMEN floats along like a flip-flop caught in the “lazy river” ride at your local waterpark. Towards the end, I just kind of advanced through most of the scenes unless there seemed to be some integral plot revelation (catfight) that could not be overlooked. Some stuff happened, I think, and then the film ended.
SWAMP WOMEN was produced and directed by B-movie maestro Roger Corman, which explains quite a lot. He is of course famous for giving just about everyone in Hollywood their “big break.” It is true that he has fostered (or exploited) many young filmmakers and actors; the list would be far reaching and hard to compile. However, as a director, he seems to be only as good as the material he is given. Now this is the same guy who directed THE LITTLE SHOP OF HORRORS, which is considered a classic in the “cheapie” genre, but was based on an inventive and outlandishly bizarre screenplay by Charles Griffith. Corman does not seem to be a director who interprets a writer’s work, but simply puts to film every page he has in hand. Here, working with a script by David Stern, Corman fashions a no-budget fetish fest. SWAMP WOMEN lacks any style, vision or logic. Yes, I know, the film was a financially anemic early effort by Corman, but c’mon, the integration of different shooting locations and the obvious stock footage is embarrassing at best. I’m also fairly certain that they killed an actual rattlesnake in the making of SWAMP WOMEN. If this is true, then, as viewed through the looking glass of time, that snake’s brave and noble sacrifice was ultimately in vain.
