What exactly can anyone say about "Sextette"? Ostensibly a Seventies-era reworking of Mae West's 1926 play "Sex", this movie exists within it's own continuum of both camp and sadness. You either laugh at the complete absurdity of it all or feel a deep pity for everyone who signed on to participate in the hot mess the whole enterprise turned into.
West, who was in her mid- 80s at the time of filming, had been rediscovered by audiences who had no idea who she was by appearing in Michael Sarne's career killing version of "Myra Breckinridge" (1970). Mae's infamous feud with Rachel Welch during the filming of "Myra" brought her into the public eye again, so six years later, "Sextette" was trotted out to cash in on Mae's newfound camp appeal. The time had passed for Mae to be nothing other than a caricature of herself, there's a certain cruelty evident when she appears on screen here. No special effects could hide the years Mae was carrying, she looks like a mummy slathered with makeup and topped with a gargantuan blond wig. She arthritically weaves, wobbles, sashays, and gives her all in a performance that uses her most famous double-entendres. The poor thing tries, but she's now a visibly tired cartoon. A dirty joke about a supposed sex- bomb who's decades old and a horny granny to boot.
Newly wed Mae cavorts in a British hotel with her young husband (Timothy Dalton) in a farce straight out of the 1930s. Several plots are running simultaneously: a global peace initiative is taking place at the hotel, Mae's tape recorded diary (on a pink cassette) of her marriages and sexual secrets has gone missing, the British press thinks her new husband is gay, American muscle-men are working out at the hotel, and nearly all of Mae's ex-husbands are wandering around the joint interrupting her wedding night. Mae contends with all the madness around her by constantly changing her Edith Head costumes, which are anachronistic in the extreme and verbally sparring with the ex- husbands played by Ringo Starr, Tony Curtis, and George Hamilton. Mae sidles up to the muscle in the gym, evidently clueless to the fact that they're all more interested in each other than they are in her, and finally saves the world at the peace summit talks. Throw in many sad cameos and the last film appearances of Mae, Walter Pidgeon, and George Raft. Throw in musical numbers that border on the surreal. Add a soundtrack by Van McCoy, the composer who gave the world the disco anthem "The Hustle". Mr. McCoy gives Mae a frightening disco-ized version of "Baby Face" to warble, a bizarre "Hooray for Hollywood" production number, and the inimitable Dom Deluise belting out the Beatles' "Honey Pie" while faking tap dancing on top of a piano. Rockers Keith Moon and Alice Cooper show up. All this, and more.
Undoubtedly, this whole enterprise probably sounded like a good idea at the time. Hollywood legend returns and everyone gets down to Boogietown! Boffo box-office! In reality, no one cared or paid to see this. Mae died two years after making this, which is very sad indeed. Instead of going out remembered as an icon, she went as a mummy looking for sex and wasting 80-odd (very odd) minutes on a set up for the last line in the movie. "Sextette", then, is an artifact from the era of platform shoes and pet rocks, two things no one needed even at the time. Best viewed after ingesting LSD and wearing polyester clothing.
West, who was in her mid- 80s at the time of filming, had been rediscovered by audiences who had no idea who she was by appearing in Michael Sarne's career killing version of "Myra Breckinridge" (1970). Mae's infamous feud with Rachel Welch during the filming of "Myra" brought her into the public eye again, so six years later, "Sextette" was trotted out to cash in on Mae's newfound camp appeal. The time had passed for Mae to be nothing other than a caricature of herself, there's a certain cruelty evident when she appears on screen here. No special effects could hide the years Mae was carrying, she looks like a mummy slathered with makeup and topped with a gargantuan blond wig. She arthritically weaves, wobbles, sashays, and gives her all in a performance that uses her most famous double-entendres. The poor thing tries, but she's now a visibly tired cartoon. A dirty joke about a supposed sex- bomb who's decades old and a horny granny to boot.
Newly wed Mae cavorts in a British hotel with her young husband (Timothy Dalton) in a farce straight out of the 1930s. Several plots are running simultaneously: a global peace initiative is taking place at the hotel, Mae's tape recorded diary (on a pink cassette) of her marriages and sexual secrets has gone missing, the British press thinks her new husband is gay, American muscle-men are working out at the hotel, and nearly all of Mae's ex-husbands are wandering around the joint interrupting her wedding night. Mae contends with all the madness around her by constantly changing her Edith Head costumes, which are anachronistic in the extreme and verbally sparring with the ex- husbands played by Ringo Starr, Tony Curtis, and George Hamilton. Mae sidles up to the muscle in the gym, evidently clueless to the fact that they're all more interested in each other than they are in her, and finally saves the world at the peace summit talks. Throw in many sad cameos and the last film appearances of Mae, Walter Pidgeon, and George Raft. Throw in musical numbers that border on the surreal. Add a soundtrack by Van McCoy, the composer who gave the world the disco anthem "The Hustle". Mr. McCoy gives Mae a frightening disco-ized version of "Baby Face" to warble, a bizarre "Hooray for Hollywood" production number, and the inimitable Dom Deluise belting out the Beatles' "Honey Pie" while faking tap dancing on top of a piano. Rockers Keith Moon and Alice Cooper show up. All this, and more.
Undoubtedly, this whole enterprise probably sounded like a good idea at the time. Hollywood legend returns and everyone gets down to Boogietown! Boffo box-office! In reality, no one cared or paid to see this. Mae died two years after making this, which is very sad indeed. Instead of going out remembered as an icon, she went as a mummy looking for sex and wasting 80-odd (very odd) minutes on a set up for the last line in the movie. "Sextette", then, is an artifact from the era of platform shoes and pet rocks, two things no one needed even at the time. Best viewed after ingesting LSD and wearing polyester clothing.