Dick Jewell’s KINKY GERLINKY – filled to the brim with glamour, littered with body parts, dripping with sexual energy – is perhaps one of the wildest works of film in existence.

The film opens with a red carpet sequence in which we see a vast array of guests arrive at what is presumably Kinky’s first clubnight. Lights, music, costumes, and bodies: from the get-go we are thrown into sensory overload with so much to see and hear it’s almost impossible to take in. With much of the action being directed straight into camera, it quickly becomes clear that any expectations of a fly-on-the-wall style documentary were wrong. Instead, what we are given is a first-hand experience of a Kinky Gerlinky club night, and what we are shown is nothing less than a series of performances that range from delightfully bizarre to gleefully sordid. Jewell’s decision to defy typical documentary convention was undoubtedly a benefit to the film and lead to a truly unique piece of cinema.

After the initial madness, one may expect the film to slow down and give way to something else – a look at some of the people behind the characters, or some level of personal connection perhaps – but this is not the case. Kinky refuses to relent and we are shown shot after shot of increasingly wild goings-on that take place as the various clubnights unfold. While we are kept somewhat at arm’s length, and while the veil is never truly lifted, what the film lacks in obvious emotional connection it makes up for tenfold in almost complete sensory immersion. The point-of-view camera work makes the viewer the party’s guest of honour and we are performed to, kissed, licked, and flashed a hundred times over as we stumble giddily through all twenty-one kinky nights that blend together seamlessly to become one.

Make no mistake, KINKY GERLINKY’s emphasis on surface elements of the cinematic experience doesn’t mean the film lacks poignancy, not at all. In fact to find it, we need only probe a little deeper. Beneath fabulous wigs and glamorous dresses, men in leather and women in nothing at all, there is a deeper level to the film. Where you may look and find excess and depravity, you will also find freedom; where you may see an extravagant and outrageous club scene, you will also see a scarcely-found safe haven. It is here that KINKY GERLINKY’s lasting beauty lies. Not only is the film a celebration of film – light and colour, image and sound – it’s a celebration of a group pushed to the peripheries of society, and an insight into a world that many have never seen, and may never see again.

If you wish to see a film unlike any other, and if you aren’t of an excessively sensitive disposition, do as Lou Reed tells us in the film’s closing song, see KINKY GERLINKY, and take a walk on the wild side.