A classic from Doris Wishman, the female Ed Wood, BAD GIRLS GO TO HELL is the kind of bad movie that would make a surrealist drool. This story of a housewife on the run features all the Wishman trademarks, from its preposterous camera angles and compositions to a "Twilight Zone"-style
twist ending.
After her husband leaves for work, Boston housewife May Kelton (Gigi Darlene) is attacked in the stairwell of her apartment building by the janitor. He demands that she come to his room, and while he is molesting her there she accidentally kills him. Fearing no one will believe she didn't go to
his apartment willingly ("If only I hadn't destroyed the note he put under the door!"), she decides to flee to New York City. In Central Park, she meets a man named Al Baines, who takes pity on her and lets her sleep on his couch. But he rebuffs May's attempt to show her gratitude sexually. And
when she offers him a drink, against his wishes, he takes it, gets drunk and beats her. A woman she meets on the street introduces her to Drella, who lets her move in with her. Still emotionally distraught, May accepts Drella's lesbian advances, and moves out when she realizes she loves her. With
some money Drella gave her, May takes a room with a couple, but leaves after the man rapes her in her sleep. She takes a position as companion to an invalid woman. Her son, a detective, comes to visit, and recognizes May as the woman wanted for murder in Boston. May screams--and wakes up from what
was only a dream. But as her husband leaves for work and she is attacked by the janitor, she realizes that she is living her dream.
It's not easy to provide a coherent plot summary for a Doris Wishman film, which by definition is the soul of incoherence. BAD GIRLS GO TO HELL doesn't make a whole lot of sense, but like all of Wishman's films (the best known is DEADLY WEAPONS, 1972) it's so bizarre as to be compelling, filmed
with an ineptitude so consistent as to constitute a distinct antistyle. What little nudity and sex the film contains are quite tame--even though her films were made for the sexploitation market, Wishman had utterly no sense of erotica. The performers are vapid to the point of catatonia, and one
wonders if Wishman even bothered to show them the film's dialogue, all of which was post-dubbed. But the element that puts the whole film over the top is Wishman's beserk camerawork. It's always fun to try and guess what Wishman will point the camera at next (though you can always be sure it will
be something that has nothing to do with the scene). (Violence, nudity, sexual situations, adult situations.) leave a comment
