Jane Robinson (Shelly Martin) has become a hardnosed, no-nonsense businesswoman since her grandfather died and left her his international company a week ago. She is cultivating an image of someone not to be messed with, barking orders at her underlings and tolerating no slacking in her staff, whether it's their fault or not. But grandfather had a real passion in life which his family were bemused with at best, and that was his love of nudism, having set up a camp for that very purpose in the grounds of his property. Now Jane has to cut back, will she target the camp for closure?
Pussycat's Paradise went by a few titles, its original apparently being For Members Only, though also going by the more forthright name The Nudist Story, but what you had on offer was one of those nudist movies of which a number sprang up when censors in various countries realised they could not justify banning films with non-sexual nudity. The plot here is so dry that even the most ardent fan of seeing people unclothed onscreen would have had trouble maintaining an interest in how Jane and her new naturist friend Bob (Brian Cobby) worked out their differences, but the producers were of course hoping that you wouldn't be interested in the story anyway.
Those producers were the Danziger Brothers, a couple of shrewd businessmen who saw a gap in the market for low budget product and promptly filled it with some little loved but lucrative - for a while - cheapo films and TV shows. This item was the result of them identifying this latest trend for the nudist movies and bringing up their own answer to that, one which apparently was made entirely pseudonymously though there were rumours that while none of the cast were especially noteworthy elsewhere (or here, for that matter) the director, one Ramsey Herrington, was actually Michael Winner under an assumed name. Certainly Winner did direct at least one of these, but he claims that one is lost forever, so your guess is as good as mine.
Meanwhile, back at the film, what begins as a business drama keeps returning to sequences set in the camp, or a studio set passing for the camp, the uncertain quality of the British climate presumably rendering it more sensible to shoot indoors. These scenes are fixated on depicting the activity there as family friendly and entirely wholesome, so that you'd have to be some kind of stuffy spoilsport not to want it all to continue, which is what Jane starts out as yet gradually warms up to the idea once Bob, the camp's representative, meets with her and seems entirely reasonable. Therefore you get many, many scenes of Bob being sensible in discussion with other nudists, which you may have trouble taking seriously, a problem with the film as a whole.
On the other hand, that could be part of the entertainment factor if any remains by this late stage, as from the point the late Grandfather Robinson is described as an "enthusiastic nudist" not once but twice the straightfaced tone of the proceedings is fairly ridiculous from then on. There may be frolicking in the buff as you'd expect, but also the grim determination to show nothing but boobs and bums, leading to some decidedly Austin Powers-esque moments as Jane visits the camp and becomes an enthusiastic nudist herself. Perhaps the most ridiculous part arrives when we are treated, if that's the right word, to a lengthy musical number where everyone starts singing terribly politely, once a rock 'n' roller has done his thing, then a dance breaks out - none of this in the nude, mind you, as for some reason the naturists elect to perform with their clothes on for this. Add in a late crisis for Jane and Bob as a jealous conniver tries to break up their bliss, and you had one of the most padded features ever released to British cinemas. Jolly music by Tony Crombie.
