Every so often a scene gets paired with a song that, for better or worse, ends up making it that much more memorable, and this Tunes-day for once the music isn’t just in the background. This time around the songs AND the skin are front and center as we look at the singing nudes of 2007’s Viva.
UCLA and CalArts grad Anna Biller wrote, directed, and starred in this comedic musical homage to sexploitation master Russ Meyer. Dubbed the “King of the Nudies” as early as 1959 with his first feature The ImmoralMr. Teas, and responsible for such classics as Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill! (1965) and the surreally campy Beyond the Valley of the Dolls (1970), the only way to truly honor the skinema legend is with lots of naked people, and Biller definitely delivers in that respect.
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Anna Biller Nude in Viva
She plays a suburban housewife in the early 1970’s who leaves her workaholic husband while he’s away on business to explore the sexy, swingin’ counter culture of the midcentury with her neighbor Sheila (Bridget Brno). Going by the new moniker Viva, Barb becomes the Belle du Jour, attending orgies, joining a nudist colony, even getting offered a role in a musical.
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And just like a Russ Meyer movie, the music is definitive of the era, only not as iconic - instead of fun faux bands like Carrie Nations and real musicians like The Sex Pistols, we get instrumental muzak of the period mixed with original songs composed by Anna herself. Her parody of the free love sing-a-long is chuckle-worthy in itself, but it’s made even funnier by the fact that we haven’t seen two men more obviously not playing guitar since Stubby Kaye and Nat ‘King’ Cole in the 1965 comedic Western Cat Ballou. But it might take you a few watches to notice since the seen is full of phenomenal full frontal nudity!
Seriously, we could sub in the world “skin” for the word “love” in the song and it would still make sense, because it’s also good for all humanity!
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Add to that the groovy dance moves from Andrea Lain and her equally naked friend, plusBridget’s bubbly bath solo, and you’ve got yourself something worthy of kitschy cult status.
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