Cat-Women of the Moon (Arthur Hilton, 1953)

Mmmm, black leotards pressing oh-so firmly against succulent space lady crotches. Oh, the tightness. The exquisite tightness. Those succulent  space lady crotches didn't stand a chance. You know, because of the tightness. The exquisite tightness. What I wouldn't give to be a vulva-adjacent mole on the groin-adjacent loins of any of the moon women who appear in Cat-Women of the Moon. I mean, the air inside those the black leotards after a long day of seducing stupid Earth men must have been so dewy and damp. And to think, this movie was made in 1953! If ever there was a period in American history that was devoid of anything groin-related, it's the early 1950s. Of course, I'm not saying crotches didn't exist in 1953. It's just that you didn't often see them bandied about with such a reckless form of abandon as they are in this Arthur Hilton (Lassie) directed mini-masterpiece. Sure, the fact that the leotards worn by the moon women were black did obscure some of that sweet, sweet exquisite tightness I alluded to earlier. But if you use your imagination correctly (and I always do), you can savour the intense marriage of leotard and crotch this flick repeatedly conjures up without expelling too much mental effort. And isn't that a sign of great cinema? Seriously, who wants to think while watching a movie? I know I sure don't. And Cat-Women of the Moon required me to think very little.

Of course, you're going to have to endure at least thirty minutes of drab, low budget 1950s-style space travel before any leotard-ensnared space lady crotches can be relished to any extent. But trust me, it's worth the wait.

Clearly the inspiration for "Animala" from The Lost Skeleton from Cadavra (both films boast the music of Elmer Bernstein), the moon women, or, as Kip (Victor Joy) calls them near the end of the movie, "Cat-Women," all boast black leotards, funky eyebrows, and have their hair pulled back into delicious ponytails.

Living on the dark side of the moon in the valley of the shadows, the cat-like women of unknown origin manage to manipulate Helen (Marie Windsor), the navigational officer of an Earth rocketship, via feminine telepathy (all women, no matter what species they belong to, can communicate this way). The other part of the plan involves luring the Earthlings to their ancient moon city, distracting the male crew members by hypnotizing them with the swaying motions of their mouth-watering girl-crotches, and stealing their rocketship.

As you might expect, their plans go somewhat awry when a crew member named Doug (William Phipps) and a slinky cat lady named Lambda (Susan Morrow) fall in love. Since Doug is the first man she's ever seen, Lambda goes ga-ga for the nondescript space traveler. The leader of the cat-women of the moon, Alpha (Carol Brewster), had no way of predicting this... or did she? Either way, the plan to turn Earth into a feminist utopia is in danger of failing before it even gets underway.

If only the other male space travelers were as easy to manipulate as Walt (Douglas Fowley) was, then the plan would have gone off with zero hitches.

What I liked about the male space travelers is that each of them had their own distinct personality. The aforementioned Doug is a sucker for love and creamy vaginal intercourse, and the equally aforementioned Walt is a greedy opportunist who may or may not have a soft spot for creamy vaginal intercourse as well.

Then there's the aforementioned, but not as recently aforementioned as those other two aforementioned guys, Kip. He's a cynical bastard who has a thing for Helen and thinks these cat ladies are full of hooey. And last but not least is Laird, played by Johnny Carson punchline favourite, Sonny Tufts. The ship's captain, who does things strictly by the book, Laird, who also has a thing for Helen, is just as gullible as Walt, but he displays an advanced form of something I like to call "post-war swagger."

However, like I said earlier, Helen, not the men, is the key to the success of the cat-women's plan. Now, was I disappointed by the fact that Marie Windsor doesn't don a black leotard at any point during the film? Hell yeah I was. Nevertheless, I enjoyed the scenes where Marie Windsor struggles to resist the lure of the cat-woman. Sure, she's struggling against her own self-interest (her rights in the cat-women's feminist utopia version of Earth would have been greater). But then again, who wants to live on a planet filled with nothing but sexy, black leotard clad women with kooky eyebrows and more robust than usual ponytails? Wait. That didn't come out right.

Made during one of the most oppressive periods in modern American history, at least for anyone who wasn't a white heterosexual male who fought in World War II, Cat-Women of the Moon implies that anything that threatens social norms should be shot in the back of the head. Actually, it's not that bleak. Predicting the rise of the women's rights movement (the National Organization for Women would be founded a decade later) and embracing Beatnik fashion well before it was in vogue (the term "beatnik" didn't become common until the late 1950s), Cat-Women of the Moon is, in truth, full of revolutionary ideas. You just gotta look beneath the surface, daddy-o.

Speaking of Beatniks, I miss Off Beat Cinema (straight outta Buffalo, NY)... it's where I saw Night of the Living Dead for the very first time. Keep watching the skies.

Missile to the Moon (Richard E. Cunha, 1958)

According to my not even close to being exhaustive research, when the labia majora is visible through a pair of tight pants, it's called a "camel toe." Isn't that weird? I mean, how did they come up... What's that? Why am I talking about vagina-based indentations in correlation with Missile to the Moon? Oh, I don't know. I just felt like illuminating all you fine folks about what I consider to be one of the kookiest slang terms the English language has to offer before I started yakking about space and junk. Wait. Now that I think about it. Camel toes and this movie actually have a lot in common. For one thing, the movie is chock-full of cunt bulges of the bumpy kind. And, on top of that... Actually, there is no "top of that." This film, directed by Richard E. Cunha, is mucho generous when it comes to vulvic protuberances. I know, it clearly states that this movie was made during the Eisenhower administration (the height of post-war puritanism). But trust me, the movie is pretty much wall-to-wall venus mound displacement, and I couldn't be more pleased. I say, "pretty much," because there isn't much as far as crotch wedging goes in the early going. But once the titular missile lands on the titular moon, it's vedgie city, baby!

When the instances of cameltoeitis began to commence, I thought myself: Maybe I should start watching more films from the 1950s. But then it dawned on me. This is probably more of a fupa fluke than anything else. Either way, don't be surprised if you see more films reviewed on here that were made during the squarest period in modern American history.

Truth be told. Missile to the Missile, despite the plethora of smooshed lady genitals, is a hundred times sexier than most of the sci-fi, comic book drivel being made today. Sure, there are no close-up shots of thick twatrods entering snarling gashes, or hazardous/structurally unsound butt-holes, for that matter, but I'll take good old fashion legginess over crass orifice penetration any day of the motherhumpin' week. And believe you me, this film has legs.

Seriously, I ain't kidding around. There must have been at least eleven so-called "moon girls," and each of these "moon girls" owned a pair of legs. Meaning, there were times when there were close to twenty legs on screen at any given moment. And I ask you, can the latest piece of fermented horseshit produced by the white supremacist child molesters who run Hollyweird be able to say that their movie has twenty shapely female legs on-screen in a single shot? I didn't think so.

The story goes something like this: Some rocket scientist cock-muncher named Dirk (Michael Whalen) is upset that the U.S. government has decided to use his newfangled rocketship for their own purposes. When Dirk discovers two escaped convicts, Lon (Gary Clarke, who sounds like Nick from Café Flesh) and Gary (Tommy Cook), hiding in his rocketship, he hatches this zany plan to force them to help fly his rocketship to the moon. However, just as they're about to take off, a government official, Steve (Richard Travis), and his girlfriend June (Cathy Downs), stumble abroad, and end up blasting into space along with the disgruntled rocket scientist and the two escaped convicts.

You would think that being forced (at gun point, mind you) to blast into space would dampen the spirits of Steve, June, Lon and Gary. But they seem cool with the idea. It just goes show. While the people who lived in post-war America during the 1950s might have been colossal squares, they weren't a bunch of whiny crybabies.

In other words, the impromptu space mission goes off without a hitch. Well, that's not exactly true. Sadly, Dirk dies during a meteor storm. Nevertheless, the mission goes on without him and they eventually land on the moon. Woo-hoo!

Donning space suits, Steve, June, Lon and Gary, after they avoid being crushed by rock creatures, explore a network of moon caves. Once inside, they quickly discover that the air in there is fit to breathe. Hiding their space gear behind some boulders, Steve, June, Lon and Gary come face-to-face with The Lido (K.T. Stevens), the leader of a race of blue-skinned moon women.

Since Steve is wearing the medallion Dirk gave him before he dies, The Lido assumes that Steve is Dirk. I know, how does The Lido know Dirk? I have to assume Dirk's been here before. Which, I must say, is quite impressive. Either way, the reason The Lido doesn't realize that Steve isn't Dirk right away is because she has since lost her eyesight.

Skeptical when it comes to these newcomers is The Lido's wonderfully conniving second in command, Alpha (Nina Bara), who thinks Steve's story is a bunch of Earth balderdash. Anyway, on top of having the film's most pronounced camel toe, Alpha is also the film's best character. Bringing the film some much needed camp-appeal, Nina Bara's deliberately exaggerated performance is the non-camel toey/non-leggy reason this film is still remembered to this day. Rendering Missile to the Moon as first-rate sci-fi trash.

Oh, and since I've already established that Alpha is the clear winner when it comes to having largest camel toe, I guess I should go ahead and declare the stunning Sanita Pelkey (Ghost of Dragstrip Hollow) to be the clear winner when it comes to legginess. Damn, girl. Those are some fine ass legs. Mhm! Wow, who knew writing about camel toes and lady legs could be so therapeutic... I feel like a brand new woman.