Blonde Cobra

The film opens with Smith wearing dresses and makeup, playing with dolls and smoking marijuana. This establishes a provocative, theatrical tone and signals a break from conventional storytelling. The immediate mood is one of performative excess and surreal imagery.

Smith's voice drones and sings, interspersed with cackling and coquettish vocalizations. Critics describe these as languid, quasi-autobiographical rants that weave through disjointed narrative fragments. The sequence emphasizes texture and mood over a straightforward plot.

A recurring segment centers on a lonely boy living in a large house with ten rooms. The episode unfolds as a confessional-like vignette, hinting at dark undercurrents and power dynamics. Its unsettling premise has been noted for its potential to repulse viewers due to its provocative themes.

Within the episode, the narrator confessses to a horrific act involving a young boy, presented in a non-graphic but shocking manner. The moment anchors the film in transgression and challenges the audience's boundaries. It contributes to the film's reputation for audacious, troubling content.

The film foregrounds controversial content, including references to necrophilia and the use of strong language. It also features a nun impersonated by Smith revealing a lesbian confession, the visual of a giant dildo, and portrayals of transvestites. These elements reinforce the work's campy, provocative stance.

The dialogue threads weave in quotations such as 'Why shave when I can't think of a reason for living' and 'life is a sad business', invoking Greta Garbo. These lines frame the film's mood and its meditation on existence and artifice, adding a self-aware, referential layer.

A burlesque rendering of Robert Siodmak's Cobra Woman appears as 'Let's Call the Whole Thing Off', recontextualizing a classic film within the piece's chaotic aesthetic. The sequence blends musical performance with provocative imagery, underscoring the film's cinephilic playfulness and challenge to norms.

In a highly provocative moment, Smith exposes himself to the camera with provocative imagery and confronts sexuality and pain. The scene uses body and symbol to press against taboos, aligning with the film's transgressive posture while inviting intense viewer response.

Scholars Hilary Radner and Moya Luckett interpret the film as a camp portrayal of Rose Hobart, placing it within a tradition of self-referential, performative cinema. This reading helps situate the work in a broader framework of avant-garde and feminist cinema studies.

The film interweaves pop culture references and cinematic nods, including allusions to Greta Garbo and reinterpretations of classic cinema. These intertexts amplify the work's commentary on artifice, gender, and desire, reinforcing its reputation as a self-conscious, boundary-pushing piece.

The closing sequence has Smith chanting about hunger, despair, and a crummy loft, set against graveyard imagery. He places a toy gun to his head and collapses, with a final title card reading 'Fin'. The finale intensifies the film's fixation on mortality and existential collapse.

As the film winds down, Smith wails 'What went wrong? What went wrong?', a refrain that seems to reflect both his survival of a suicide attempt and the movie's unresolved anxieties. The line reinforces the autobiographical, self-scrutinizing core of the piece.

The work is noted for shocking audiences upon its release, with its dizzying rants and improvisations that defy traditional narrative. Its combination of performance, explicit content, and experimental form places it firmly within the camp avant-garde tradition of transgressive cinema.