An extraordinary film: a taut mix of pulpy sex and hard-boiled noir.
The storyline encompasses child abuse, a common subject in films today but not in the 1960s. Indeed, society's treatment of children is a theme throughout.
Fuller creates a strong female lead character who is tough, independent and resourceful. The film ends with her receiving the support of all the other female characters as she walks off into the sunset, a trope that is usually reserved for the male hero.
Best of all is the beautiful b/w cinematography. Every frame is carefully composed and balanced like a good still photograph.
This film kicks off explosively and never lets up. Big city sex worker Kelly (Constance Towers) is slapping down her pimp for the £75 dollars he has held out on. Her wig falls off revealing the bald head he has inflicted on her. And as she peels only the 75 off his roll, we know this is an honest girl.
Kelly leaves town and pitches up in small town America. Working in a children's hospital she falls in love with its benefactor, Grant (Michael Dante). This is a film about appearances and reality and the deception and hypocrisy that lie between. Griff is a paedophile who uses his largesse to snare his vulnerable victims. There are no fairy tales or happy endings.
There is an amazing scene in The Naked Kiss when Kelly and the kids from the orthopaedics ward sing a sentimental lullaby, which is so elusively peculiar that it is actually incredibly moving (especially given the threat to these children). The film is set in a hyper-idealised fantasy of America that we would one day call Lynchian, yet steeped in a tragic sorrow.
Every dream has a mirrored heartbreak. Nothing is what it seems. This is Fuller's masterpiece. It is brilliantly written, dense with cynical wit and disingenuous hope. Towers is in every scene and her performance of exaggerated sweetness is aptly, and unforgettably strange. What a role this is for her. And what a fascinating, original film.