Terry Shaw (Steve Oliver) is a hotshot young writer who has a coterie of weird young people who hangs on his every move. He’s the same age as them, maybe a little bit older, and he constantly throws wild parties full of reefer, LSD, alcohol, and madness. He has a few lovers on the side, older women that he sleeps with for kicks or for cash (it’s never explicitly shown). One of these is Mrs. Golden (Rita Hayworth), who has a wheelchair-ridden husband and a fat bank account. One night, the husband catches Terry and his wife together, and he pulls a gun to kill them both. While chasing Terry around the house, he accidentally rams his wheelchair into the fireplace and tumbles from the seat, bashing his head against the brick surface and killing himself. Terry flees the scene. He spends a lot of time ducking Mrs. Golden, throwing even more parties and sleeping with even more chicks. Eventually, he cannot hide anymore and he confronts Mrs. Golden at her house. He wants nothing more to do with her but she is using her husband’s death to blackmail him into more attention. So Terry naturally tries to kill her, using her fragile heart condition to cause her to have a heart attack. Thinking he’s free of her and all the consequences of his horrible actions, he throws his biggest party yet. Unbeknownst to Terry, there’s a young lady there, and she is looking for revenge…
The Naked Zoo is a mean, nasty little film filled with a lot of irritating and asshole characters. Prime example number one is our protagonist Terry. He’s a real dick; he sleeps around, carouses, treats people like dirt, and gaslights the hell out of his female companions. He strings along one of his older matrons, dosing her with acid and putting her in the middle of one of his parties, just so the hippies can laugh and make fun of her. The matron is a racist, snotty jerk, but within seconds I felt sorry for her, once her mental torment began. Terry is a snake in the grass and his hippy pals are just hanging around, being weird, sucking up his drugs and the whole scene, man. Mrs. Golden is a selfish prick, as well. The only redeemable person is Terry’s would-be assassin, and we never really get to know her at all. That all being said, this is what makes the movie work so well. It is a seething indictment of a selfish culture as it is going through a metamorphosis. What started as a chance to free the mind, to free the spirit, to embrace love and peace, has warped into a twisted nightmare of amphetamines and bad acid. Maybe it’s a bit harsh and not totally accurate, but it sure reflects the time it was made in, what with Altamont and the Manson Family happening in the real-life background of then-current events. Oh, and never fear: there’s some go-go dancing, and an appearance by Canned Heat, to liven things up a bit, adding dashes of light to an otherwise crushing darkness.
William Grefe made a smart, daring, and absolutely foul film. I wouldn’t call it Horror, but then again, I’m not sure there’s another word to describe it. Instead of the spilling blood and guts, here we get the murdering of dreams and the mutilation of egos and personalities. It’s a sharp, concise, razorblade of a flick that does not hesitate to cut you in all the most painful ways. I’m not sure who to recommend this to, but if you made it this far into the review, you know who you are.
★★★☆
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