This is London, a city that prides itself on the best education, the best tailoring and the best entertainment in the world. But let us take a closer look as this place, which might not be as wholesome as it first appears - it is still reeling from the John Profumo scandal, after all. Some previously illegal activities now enjoy a veneer of respectability, such as the betting shops as no longer do the punters have to visit street corners to gamble, they can go to a proper establishment instead. But what of the prostiute who beckons men into her room from her window? Is this going too far?
In between making West End Jungle and Primitive London, director Arnold L. Miller and his team made London in the Raw, which would be the missing link in the chain of mondo movies set in the capital if it was actually missing. You can see where the ideas from the first film would evolve into those from the latter, and there is a sense of travelling over the same ground if you have seen them. This does not stretch as much to be outrageous as the third effort, being more akin to the earlier one except this has the advantage of being shot in colour.
It does make a difference, as while West End Jungle looks like a relic, London in the Raw seems far more relevant, if still as dated. It assembles a collection of topics, from the prurient to the eccentric, and looks to be keen to present the city as a cosmopolitan hubbub, seeking out the various nationalities that have settled there and highlighting how they entertain themselves, from a German nightclub to belly dancers, usually with a made up interview with an unseen actor or actress putting on a foreign accent on the soundtrack. The implication is that the world comes to London because it's such a centre of excitement.
But Miller cannot be too benevolent towards the place, as he often undercuts what we are presumably meant to be enjoying as top amusement with the seedier side of life there. So amidst some truly underwhelming nightclub acts, including the world's worst Cockney singer (whether we're supposed to be appreciating him or not is unclear), there are segments detailing such vices as prostitution, tramps drinking meths complete with an explanation why, or drug addicts waiting for midnight to attend the all night chemists for their legal fix (suicide awaits many of them, we are told - the addicts, that is, not the chemists).
As is customary, there are a number of strippers here, as there had to be the inclusion of sex into the mix too, but this is extended into the arena of life modelling, where a nightclub supplies naked women to their customers as long as they draw them (eh?); this scene is complete with a beret-sporting artist who we see has in fact painted an abstract picture rather than something more literal - little joke, there. It's not only clubgoers who sketch these women, as we also see "beatniks" doing the same, but they will additionally take photos of the female members of their coterie for selling to pornographers, and perhaps even worse, erm, they eat cat food. What that has to do with anything isn't too apparent, but it's only part of the steady stream of would-be sensational, but actually pretty daft, situations that are offered up for your viewing pleasure. Historical interest is your best bet for enjoying this, illustrating a society on the brink of a long revolution.
[The BFI's DVD has contemporary short films, an alternative cut - shorter, but with racier material - a trailer and a special booklet as extras.]
