Kiss Me Quick! (1964) (USA)

aka Dr. Breedlove/Dr. Breedlove or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love 

⭐️⭐️1/2

Despite what one may think after viewing this nutso nudie cutie outing, an adult human wrote this script. I was under the impression that an adolescent cocaine addict raised on jerk-off magazines tried their hand at the screenplay but I’ve been told I was wrong. I’m still not completely sold on that. Sterilox is a 612-year-old dimwit with a spaghetti colander on his noggin from the galaxy of (sigh) Buttless. He is given the kind of assignment that only exists in questionable movies and the fantasies of guys who call themselves “alpha”: Go to Earth and find the “perfect specimen” of woman to perpetuate a slave class. His leader believes, and I quote, “these women make ideal servants if you train them properly.” Sterilox meets up with Dr. Breedlove (like Dr. Strangelove but really stupid) who has invented the Sex Machine. What does this Sex Machine do? Well, it makes mostly mute (they do manage to say the film’s title quite often) abducted girls strip naked and undulate. These Go-Go gals have such names as Boobra, Hotty Totty and Gina Catchafanni, so there ain’t much personality beyond swaying mammaries, impressively giant hair and the disturbing realization that they all probably landed the role thanks to their ability to still shake their goods while taking copious amounts of quaaludes. The cheap-ass feel of the whole production has me thinking this is a likely scenario. Breedlove’s sex-starved assistant Kissme has the look of someone whose brain turned off immediately after getting off the bus from Kansas and landing her first and only “acting gig” in a producer’s wood-paneled basement. There’s a few monsters hanging around: a lady mummy named Selfish (she’s all wrapped-up in herself… sigh), a transgender Frankenstein’s monster (she was Fannystein but now he goes by Frankystein… sigh) and cinema’s most pathetic Dracula for reasons I’m not all that sure of. Both misogynistic and naive, Kiss Me Quick! is one incredibly strange and stupid exploitation flick that, despite all odds, manages to entertain when your not rubbing your temples and groaning. Large breasts help at first but then too much of a good thing sets in and you’re begging to get lost in the idiocy of the non-booby parts. Shared lingerie (there’s a budget to consider), dirty uncle jokes circa 1957, the ever-present nudie cutie pasty buttcheeks, pepperoni nipples, library muzak, dad jokes circa 1934 and an abuse of laboratory sound effects will charm and agitate in equal measure. I usually avoid nudie cutie flicks like the plague but if more of them were like this, I’d still avoid them but less like the plague and more like an ex with a short fuse and maybe VD… just get me drunk and we’ll see what happens.