When the directors of Silent Rage and Diner team up to make a smut movie, they really bring the smut! That’s right, Street Girls was directed by Michael Miller, who co-wrote the script with none other than Barry Levinson! It’s sort of patchy and uneven, but it’s a lot better than Toys.
A good girl named Angel (Christine Souder) quits college and goes behind her father’s back to become a dancer at a topless club. Before long, she’s graduated from dancing to turning tricks for a pimp and eventually gets hooked on heroin. Her father (Art Burke) finally comes looking for her and teams up with Angel’s co-worker Sally (Carol Case) to find her. Once he learns the two are actually lovers, the uptight dad rejects her help. Trouble brews when Sally learns Angel’s pimp intends to sell her on the white slave market.
The pendulum of quality swings wildly back and forth throughout Street Girls’ seventy-minute running time. However, the sheer abundance of nudity is enough to propel it along. These girls are naked onstage, backstage, in the bedroom, in the bathroom, on the street, and in the sheets. The wildest moment is when an auto mechanic john wants Angel to take a golden shower. (At least he provided her with a pair of goggles.)
Despite the overall grim tone and grimy nature, the film still manages to show sensitivity towards its gay characters and their relationships. Yes, there are some gratuitous stereotypes on display. However, Street Girls pays more attention to their relationships more than a lot of the smut films of the era.
The good performance by Carol Case (in her first and only role) as the likeable Sally certainly bolsters the movie whenever it starts to veer off course. She sort of resembles Cybil Shepherd and has a lot of screen presence. Souder (again, in her only film role) is also memorable as the little girl lost, Angel. The male cast members aren’t nearly as convincing though.
The weakest scenes involve Angel’s father on his quest to find his lost daughter. These scenes play as sort of a forerunner to Hardcore (but not nearly as good) and honestly, bog the picture down. Luckily, he doesn’t hog the spotlight too much. Whenever the film focuses on Angel’s slow descent into the scuzzier aspects of her profession, it’s damned fine ‘70s sleaze.
Oh, and did I mention the great blues soundtrack, performed by none other than Muddy Waters!
Angel’s pimp gets the best line of the movie when he tells Sally, “Turn that holy-hole into a money hole!”
AKA: Crackers.
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