Though hardly the first significant landmark in the Women In Prison genre (affectionately labeled "WIP" by junk-film junkies), BIG DOLL HOUSE - the second venture by Roger Corman's B-movie studio/distribution house New World Pictures - is certainly one of the most memorable. It also managed to single-handedly revive the flagging genre for '70s drive-in audiences, mostly thanks to the abundant nudity and graphic violence permitted by a then newly-minted MPAA rulebook. Though relatively tame by today's anything-goes, direct-to-video standards, this one was pretty extreme for '71, and still packs a wallop today, thanks to a heady blend of sleaze and cheese - in other words, pure Corman gold. It's a forgone conclusion that Buena Vista (yes, that's Disney, and yes it's oh so ironic, blah blah blah), having recently acquired much of Corman's extensive back catalog for re-release on DVD, would include this title among their "ROGER CORMAN: EARLY FILMS" signature collection.

The first benchmark of a quality Corman recipe is the direction of genre great Jack Hill, whose resume is revered among exploitation enthusiasts - including a certain Mr. Tarantino, who willfully lifts massive chunks of Hill's material for his own projects, and has been instrumental in the restoration of Hill's tour de force SWITCHBLADE SISTERS. Hill plunged into this one with gusto, and Corman himself claims to have blanched when confronted with the director's final cut... but quickly recovered after seeing the impressive box-office receipts after the film's premiere.

BIG DOLL HOUSE is most noteworthy among the B-movie anointed for being the first high-profile gig for Pam Grier - who, for those of you living under a rock for the past 30 years, is the undisputed queen of '70s Blaxpliotation thanks to her command of the genre's most memorable titles, like FOXY BROWN (also directed by Hill), COFFY, SHEBA BABY and FRIDAY FOSTER, to name only a few. She was also on the receiving end of Tarantino retro-love, bustin' back into the big-time as JACKIE BROWN, and as of this writing is one of the main characters in Showtime's THE L WORD. Discovered by Corman when she was working the switchboard at American International Pictures, Grier not only auditioned for and nailed a plum role in his first WIP feature, but also supplied the theme song, "Long Time Woman" (which later resurfaced in JACKIE BROWN), thus securing her a place of honor in the annals of drive-in legend. Although most of her Corman-produced gigs were ensemble pieces (as is this one), Grier manages to take charge of every scene she's in, establishing a razor-sharp, in-your-face persona that became her trademark.

With this kind of impressive talent on both sides of the camera, it's no surprise BIG DOLL HOUSE quickly became the first break-out success for Corman's recently-coined New World Pictures, and remains one of his most lucrative films; it's also among the more successful of their highly profitable quickies shot in the Philippines - initially a budgetary consideration that actually helps the film's steamy ambiance.

So, on to our story: not one to eat up valuable footage with sissy exposition, Hill drops us right into the sweaty, gritty world of an unnamed Filipino lock-up, wherein pretty new inmate Collier (Judy Brown) is told to strip before being unceremoniously slammed down on a table and subjected to a full cavity search by a surly guard who doesn't bother using gloves. That pretty much sets the tone for what's ahead.

Shortly afterward we meet Collier's cellmates: Grear (played by Greer... who knew), a lesbian prostitute jailed on a trumped-up charge; Bodine (Pat Woodell of "Petticoat Junction"), a sultry bruiser whose mysterious boyfriend is leading a revolution against the local government; tough lifer Alcott (Roberta Collins, "Mathilda the Hun" in DEATH RACE 2000); Harrad (Brooke Mills), a junkie whose addiction makes her Grear's towel bitch; and Ferina (Gina Stuart), the oddball of the bunch, who dotes on her mangy cat. All of them appear to be in the peak of health, gorgeous and impeccably groomed, considering their living conditions... oh well, such is the magique of the cinema. The new kid seems to settle in nicely with the gang, aside from a few minor altercations wherein she is nearly drowned in the toilet and set on fire.

We also get to meet the various "officials" of the prison, including the exceedingly Teutonic warden Miss Dietrich, the compassionate but creepy prison doctor, and the spider-like chief guard Lucian, who apparently learned her techniques from the Josef Mengele school of corrections. The cast is rounded out by two "comic relief" local delivery boys - one of whom is none other than the immortal Sid Haig. A Jack Hill stable player since the early '60s, Haig is also enjoying a cinematic renaissance these days, thanks to his career-defining role as Captain Spaulding in Rob Zombie's HOUSE OF 1000 CORPSES and THE DEVIL'S REJECTS. Here, he is less flamboyant, but no less sweaty, and gets to fondle Pam's goodies in a scene that both actors probably tried very hard not to recall when they re-teamed twenty-plus years later for a scene in JACKIE BROWN.

The usual episodic escapades - catfights, cockroach races, whippings, food fights, "wash my back" shower scenes, electric shocks, sweaty kitchen trysts, stoned erotic dancing, the "hot box," and the inevitable prison break - play out in all their lurid glory, peppered with classic dialogue ("Get it up or I'll cut it off!") and a wink-wink, nudge-nudge attitude which turns what could have been an unpleasant viewing experience into pure popcorn delight.

Sure, there's plot holes large enough to swallow a medium-sized city (Lucian tortures Bodine mercilessly to learn the location of her boyfriend's rebel encampment, but later drops the matter altogether), even larger leaps in logic (the time-sensitive escape operation relies entirely on the cat), and there's an ill-fitting, post-dubbed last line of dialogue that just about spoils everything. But damn it, this is not about literary cohesion and interwoven subtext. This is about Pam Grier and Roberta Collins mudwrestling among the sugar cane and Sid Haig wondering aloud if he'll be raped. All these things and more, BIG DOLL HOUSE will give you for a modest sum. It's up to you to decide if that's ultimately a good thing.

Buena Vista's Corman re-releases have been a mixed bag so far, but they've been generally passable in terms of doling out respect where it's due. Though I'm a bit miffed at the full-frame presentation (quite a few compositions are truncated at the sides), this is a pretty decent disc, mastered from a good clean print with only a few occasions of dirt or damage, and the slightly desaturated color palette is largely the result of the '70s film stocks used. The mono track is strong and has good dynamics, and Grier's warm, bright vocals come through well on "Long Time Woman."

Extras are nothing to write home about, but Corman's brief interview with Leonard Maltin (ported over from the New Horizons release) does offer some insights into Corman's initial reservations about releasing the film, and his eventual embracing of the WIP genre and beneficial working relationship with Grier and Hill. Also included are trailers for this and other New World epics, and fairly detailed bios of all the major players.

It's very telling that, despite my intense dislike of most prison exploitation pictures, I was immensely entertained by every frame of this film, thanks to the carefree, seat-of-the-pants (or lack-of-pants) filmmaking style employed by Corman's most talented employees, the simple charm of a production that sets the bar low and delivers, and the purity of product created by that warehouse of seedy genius that is New World Pictures - a dream factory to which most modern cinema owes a tremendous creative debt. Watch it irony-free, and feel the love.