‘Chatterbox’ (1977) - Tom DeSimone.

Considering that 'Chatterbox' (1977) has such a lurid central premise it came as a grand surprise to discover that this delightful film deals with its gynaecological conceit so chastely and with such effective humour. I can readily imagine that trash Evangelist John Water's would find much to amuse among all the cod (piece) Busby Berkeley song N' dance shibazz, but the grease-palmed contingent are unlikely to find much sordid stimuli among all the quite frankly, ‘Carry On’, carrying's on! 

Once our perky protagonist discovers that her previously dormant vagina now strives for decidedly vocal autonomy the film becomes an amusing parody of that most Hollywood cliché; the tabloid expose of a wide-eyed ingénue's initial exposure to the ingratiating hoopla that comes with such swiftly-found celebrity. Much of the comedy of 'Chatterbox' is bawdy with an over reliance on genital metaphor; but it has to be said that everyone's favourite 70s nymphet Candice Rialson has never been quite so adorable as the flaxen-haired vixen with the permanently sarcastic diva nu-nu. These Rabelaisian goings-on remind me of vintage Russ Meyer, due to the earthy badinage and overtly rigorous and broad comedic performances, especially from the none-more-flouncy, and none-more-fabulous Rip Taylor!

For me, if one might excuse the phrase, 'Chatterbox' is a genuine screwball classic, as for once the individual behind the lens hasn't merely exaggerated the lowest common denominator to appease the furtive, nimble-wristed patrons of some Times Square skuzz palace; and much like the previously mentioned Russ Meyer, Tom De Simone opts for a more skilful, idiosyncratic take on all this deliciously low brow ribaldry. It is nice to have one's cynical preconceptions so wondrously confounded; and De Simone is to be congratulated for constructing such a frothy, amiable entertainment. 'Chatterbox' is entirely deserving of resurrection and one can only hope that a pristine print appears at some juncture; since, Candice Rialson's delightful, chattering box deserves a far grander diorama from which we can admire her singular endowments. Special mention must be made of Neil Sedaka's zippy, and damnably funky soundtrack; definitely a strong recommendation for a lovingly restored Blu-ray re-release!

'Rarely do my keys turn up in the first place I look for them!'

'My sonorous nu-nu got honey pipes just like Lulu!'

'I wanted to know what my old man saw in you!'