Given the subject matter, I guess The Witches of Breastwick is a better title than the one I would have picked out for a satire of this Hollywood theme--The Bitches of Eastwick.
But titles aside, director Jim Wynorski (here billed as "H.R. Blueberry", which I guess is some halfhearted attempt to separate his boobs-obsessed id from the *real* boobs-obsessed Jim Wynorski, director of the patently serious The Lost Empire, Big Bad Mama 2, Chopping Mall, et al) has hit one out of the old ballpark. Keeping in mind, of course, that the sexploitation genre is more of a Baker Bowl than a Polo Grounds.
The film stars three stunningly sexy mamazonian actresses, Julie K. Smith, Glori-Anne Gilbert, and Stormy Daniels, as the leads, and director Wynorski pays them--every inch of them--loving attention throughout. Picking one over the others in an exercise in futility, though as a JKS fan, I admit, I was using binoculars during her scenes.
In all seriousness, Wynorski has done more for the boob nut than any Hollywood auteur this side of Russ Meyer, when one considers the full canon of his work. And no, we are not talking Citizen Kane here. I have seen Citizen Kane, and no, this is no Citizen Kane. The Witches of Breastwick is simply a film that fills a need--something to get the boys through the night, as Meyer himself once put it.
Wynorski, like Meyer and, later, Andy Sidaris, pays extreme attention to his subjects--the hair, the makeup, the lighting, and makes his starlets look absolutely breathtaking. Put simply, he knows how to shoot women on film.
The plot of Breastwick, such as it is, is amply fleshed out with adequate acting, and there is no denying the technical quality of the finished product. Julie K. Smith, I might observe bashfully, adds some charm to the film as well as her considerable sex appeal.
The sex scenes--and they are aplenty, are technically superb, with one reservation. Frequently, the actresses break the "fourth wall" and make eye contact with the camera. I heard this about Wynorski's work elsewhere, and thought, "who gives a ____? It's softcore porn" But I admit--it *is* disconcerting. A minor flaw in an otherwise gem of a B-movie.
I hope Jim Wynorski--or, ahem, Mr. Blueberry--continues being politically incorrect and making sexploitation at this level of competence. Would that every drive-inn movie were as much fun to watch.