Another day, Another Man (1969) – Doris Wishman.

'Do we ever know who we really are?'

The high-priestess of goofy suburban sin-o-rama creates another monochromatically mucky foray into fabulously flesh-centric sinema with Another Day, Another Man! Naïve, strawberries and cream newly-weds soon run into financial difficulties, descending ingloriously unto a dismal denouement, sleazily facilitated by a brutishly opportunistic pimp and his sordid machinations. As expected, the dialogue is of the purest, unleavened tripe, but the scintillatingly curvy cast remain sensuously diverting, and there's a low-wattage, curiously sexless cat fight that provides some winningly camp hi-jinks! My continued appreciation of Wishman's fleshly folly are the distractingly high quotient of enjoyable incidental weirdness therein. Novel editing choices, pre-Bridget Jones objectification of voluminous knickers, stock melodramatics, and the frequent twitchy close-ups of bodacious-looking décolletage being a major highlight!