Lava lamps live. At least they do in Ian Dunross' film The Go-Go Girls which asks us to embrace the retro-romantic notion of the late 1960's which suggest that John Lennon jockey hats, lavender-tint eyeglasses and mini wearing apparel from Carnaby Street were the definitive statements of sexual chic.
As any T&A historian will tell you, the Joey Dee-Chubby Checker "Twist" era of the 1960's (oldsters might want to grab a video copy of Twist Around The Clock for reference) with its tight tassel dresses, billowing bold hair, black high heels and charismatic tribal dance floor music was THE cat's meow. But I suppose we'll have to wait for another film to hear the pussy purr.
What Dunross achieves in The Go-Go Girls is best rendered in the neo-psychedelic title credits with slavish attention to visual authenticity, bird cage watusi dancing (ala Russ Meyer) and some pretty esoteric newsreel footage, set to an ersatz "Wipe Out" drum riff. From here, it's anyone's guess where this film's going helped even less by the unfortunate decision to film entirely on a sound stage, giving this exercise a tinny, kinescope look.
Leena and Tina Tyler (in a Princess Summer-Fall-Winter-Spring getup) are dancers in Mike Horner's go-go club which is going, going, gone (along with the muddy audio track). That's, of course, if the tax people (Brooke Waters) have anything to do about it. Horner's predicament solicits the standard Andy Hardy "let's put on a show" resolve, but it's Tyler's character, I think it is, who makes a gratuitous point that she's not about to take her top off. As if anyone had really asked her to in the first place.
The sub-plot contrasts Horner's floundering status against his more successful, womanizing army-buddy, Jonathan Morgan. (Just exactly what phase of the Vietnam conflict would that have been? The USO campaign?) Morgan, now a magazine publisher, is out to do an expose of the sexual revolution. To accomplish that, Morgan, who looks more like a Melrose Marty McFly than a habitué of the Sixties, is arguably in the wrong film. The sex scenes for the most part are abrupt, camera coy and average or below. And what's with the slap-dash club orgy sequence?
Showgirl Eden plays grab ass with her fellow danseuse (your guess is as good as mine as to her identity) in what looks like the house of blue light – good golly, Miss Molly – complete with the ever-popular excruciating zoom-in, zoom-out technique. Other scenes don't fare much better. Witness Colt Steele spreading his lats more than his partner's (Leena) legs in the opening threeway. Tyler's scene with Mark Davis is accompanied by a score so close to Light My Fire, that I was expecting ASCAP to come barging in the dorr any second, begging either for a threeway or a court date. Crystal Wilder is the one cast member who, physically, seems comfortable in this time piece whereas the guys look more like army reservists, while Brooke Waters, Morgan's romantic involvement, seems to be the only one caring about the timbre and resolve of her lines.
For is earnest attempts at re-creation, The Go-Go Girls is worth seeing, but for the real deal, you might want to check out the Something Weird Video catalogue and see, first-hand, how uninspiring films from this era truly were.