Reviewed by Colin Jacobson (April 13, 2025)
For a slice of Russ Meyer as he worked his way toward sexually explicit movies in the late 1960s, we go to 1965’s Motorpsycho. While it teases its erotic themes, censorship of the day meant Meyer couldn’t go all-out just yet.
As part of a broader run of violence, a trio of sadistic bikers led by Brahmin (Steve Oliver) sexually assaults Gail (Holle K. Winters), the wife of veterinarian Dr. Cory Maddox (Alex Rocco). When they move on, they come across Harry Bonner (Coleman Francis) and his buxom much younger wife Ruby (Haji) after their car breaks down in the desert.
Brahmin and company kill Harry and assault Ruby. Dr. Maddox pairs with grieving widow Ruby to get revenge on Brahmin and his psychotic renegades.
As implied at the start, Meyer fans who expect the copious amounts of nudity we’d get in his later films will encounter disappointment. Given how intensely hot Haji, Winters and Arshalouis Aivazian – seen at the film’s start as the biker gang’s initial rape victim – are, the absence of anything more than teased flesh becomes a major drawback.
Not that all the full-frontal in the world would rescue Motorpsycho. I never saw evidence Meyer was much of a filmmaker, and this flick doesn’t change that perspective.
Though I will say I prefer the cheap exploitation vibe of Motorpsycho to the idiotic satirical comedy Meyer would attempt with his 1970s movies. Flicks like Beneath the Valley of the Ultra-Vixens lacked wit or insight as Meyer tried to create social commentary with all the T and A and sex.
Motorpsycho comes with no such delusions of grandeur. It offers a simple tale of bad apples and revenge – no more, no less.
And unfortunately, no real entertainment value. Actually, Motorpsycho becomes so over the top at times that it does muster some campy mirth.
We find a movie in which a poisonous snake bites Cory and Ruby needs to remove the venom via oral methods. This leads Rocco to aggressively shout “suck it out – suck it some more!” while Haji chows on his leg and then spits out the result at the end.
Gee, you don’t suppose Meyer used this scene as symbolic of some other sucking activity, do you? The entire scene lacks purpose in the greater scheme and exists solely for attempts at erotic value.
Beyond some of this goofiness, Motorpsycho doesn’t go much of anywhere, though I’ll give Meyer some credit for his decision to depict Brahmin as a Vietnam vet who suffers from PTSD. 1965 seems awfully early for that kind of commentary, so this becomes an interesting development.
Though not one that really matters in the greater scheme of things. Indeed, our minor view of Brahmin’s backstory feels more like windowdressing than a character choice that matters in terms of the global narrative.
Of the cast, only Rocco went onto later success, with his iconic Moe Greene in The Godfather as his most prominent role. Rocco clearly boasts the most talent, though he doesn’t get a lot to do as our putative heroic lead.
Haji enjoys a broader arc, but this doesn’t really work. Meyer cast his female performers more for looks than talent, and as seen here, Haji couldn’t act her way out of the proverbial paper bag.
This leaves us with a movie that consists of little more than random scenes of violence and cleavage. Meyer made worse films than Motorpsycho but this one nonetheless fails to turn into anything memorable.
