'The Bizarre Ones' (1967) - Ron Sullivan.

If murky, stink-fingered, Sitar-slathered 60s S&M grubbiness is your clenched fist of drooling movie meat, then prepare to grab an extra greasy fistful of sin-slinger, Ron Sullivan's profoundly unattractive but perversely satisfying trip into the freaky, funk-focused domain of wickedly way out, uber-cackling horndog hippies, their groovily emancipated, VW beetle-bound chicks and their blithely libidinous boyfriend's home-made, kinky-looking, kundalini kick-starting orgasmatrons!!! 

 

Aptly named, The Bizarre Ones is a consistently crude, ill natured, uproariously absurd, pleasingly denuded B/W 'roughie' by a wonderfully transgressive filmmaker who laudably dispenses with anything quite so cumbrous as narrative, and luridly sets up innumerably static scenes of rope-tied, blind-folded alfresco sexcapades, wherein priapic, prototypically drugged-out beatniks cavort hedonistically in and about their grottily bucolic love shack, crudely satisfying all their myriad, rarefied kicks in a singularly brusque, almost wholly sexless fashion which paradoxically gives this obscure, enticingly grainy confection of remarkably pulchritudinous hippie hip-shakers and their clumsy carnal exploits rather more outré charm than it probably deserves!   

I never quite realized how much I desperately needed to watch an inauspiciously fashioned 'film' that actively promoted the somewhat esoteric, hitherto obscure culinary peccadillo of a mutual, pseudo-sensual licorice string banquet, an intimately masticatory act celebrated in a confounding, matter of fact manner so deliciously skewed that it reduces the more exploratory digressions of far more lauded arthouse directors to the asinine B-movie bungling of precocious art school dilettantes!