Paul and Mary play The Blands, a wine dealer and nurse who dream of a better life. They're prudes who only believe in hugging and kissing, saving their passion for food and drink. They're also given to quick anger, which leads to Paul being fired from his job and those dreams fading. Throw in the fact that they live in a building full of swingers and things start to look bleak for the Blanks.After one of those swingers breaks in, Paul kills him with a frying pan and they throw him into the trash compactor. One day later, they do the very same thing and realize that just by killing people and getting their wallets, all their dreams may come true. After all, the bank only tried to get into Mary's pants (as everyone but Paul tries to do).After meeting with suburban dominatrix Doris, the Blanks make an ad. Believe it or not, the film's budget was so small, they couldn't afford to make a fake ad. So they ran a real ad in L.A. Weekly, but it only got one answer.Soon, they meet Raoul (Robert Beltran, Night of the Comet and TV's Star Trek Voyager), a locksmith con artist who breaks into their house the night after installing new locks. While in their apartment, he falls over a dead Nazi that Paul had just killed and cleaned up. He agrees to keep their secret and sell the bodies for more cash. Sure, he's selling those bodies to a dog food company, but he's also stealing their cars and selling them.The very next day, while Paul is buying groceries and a new frying pan (as Mary doesn't want to kill and cook with the same pan), a hippie client (Ed Begely Jr.) arrives late and tries to rape Mary. Luckily, Raoul arrives and kills the man with his belt. Soon, he and Mary are smoking the man's weed and making love. Raoul soon falls for Mary, despite her continually saying that it's all wrong and needing marijuana to relax. The lusty locksmith tries to kill Paul with his car (after a sequence where John Paragon plays a sex shop salesman. Paragon is better known as Jambi the Genie and the voice of Pterri the Pterodactyl on Pee Wee's Playhouse, as well as collaborating with Cassandra Peterson on her many Elvira projects), which leads to our hero working with Doris the Dominatrix to start a gaslighting campaign against Raoul, climaxing with prescribing him saltpeter pills that keep him from getting hard.After a giant swinger party, Paul ends up killing tons of rich swingers, taking their cars and money, finally able to achieve the dreams he shares with his wife. This leads to a drunken Raoul breaking back into the Bland house, disclosing the affair and telling Paul that he is taking Mary away. Of course, he has to kill Paul first, so he asks Mary to bring him the frying pan.Instead, Mary shows her true colors and love for Paul, killing Raoul. But wait! The real estate agent is on his way and there's no time to make him dinner! Of course, there's always...Raoul.The film ends with our cute little couple standing in front of their new restaurant, Paul and Mary's Country Kitchen, with the caption, "Bon Appétit."Bartel shot this film on odds and ends of stock in between projects. Some of the longer runs of stock given to the production had been rejected by others because their cases had mold grown on the cans that house the film. Often, the crew would have no idea if the film they were shooting was even usable. That said, this movie has a quick, bouncy, punk rock energy that seems improvised throughout.

The world of Eating Raoul is a depraved, prude's nightmare. Sex is on everyone's minds; you can't buy a carton of milk without contracting something, much less apply for a business loan (the manager's hand, after having his master's initial advances denied, seems to dive into muscle memory, groping the air and just about holding back from attacking the secretary). Director Paul Bartel, a Roger Corman alumni who made a string of low budget flicks in the 70s and 80s, utilises his set design well. It's kitsch overload, dirty white walls, mustard yellow carpet, pastel paintings that don't match - no wonder the inmates seem to be bouncing off the walls. Freak after freak is invited into Bland's household, with minimal decor and props hung up to cater to their sexual tastes. The mise-en-scene finds the right note inbetween seediness and tackiness. We grimace initially, and then can't help but chuckle at the cheapness of the whole charade, and the nonchalance of the Blands at these deviants invading their home: "He's not gonna show. We've thrown away 70 dollars on this light show." He does show a little later, muttering about Nam and hippy rebirths as if they were the natural progression of a middle aged man. Make love, not war. The Blands sleep in twin beds (have they ever had sex? Do they even hug?) and air kiss right before tucking in, although in this society they're relatively normal. They fall into their murderous routine by pure accident, as if it was an extended screwball bit. Mr Bland is the loser flogging vintage wines over the local bottle shop counter, and Mrs Bland is a nurse, although not the sexy kind, not that it deters his horndog patients. When they stumble into one frying pan murder, it cascades into another, and then another. Watch them act if they are good at this, or even enjoy it - they don't know how. It's cute to see Paul whisper to Mary to insult their client over the phone, and to watch them giggle like schoolchildren. They're too bland for this. Mary can't even summon the gall to spank a naughty client, even when he's overturned the entire tea table. She just scurries to clean the mess up. And look at what Paul wears to visit the sex shop, picking up a few odds and ends to attract more clients. It's a comedy of manners and learned behaviour, struggling to unravel after a decade of monotonous monogamy. That balance is upset when Raoul enters the business, a thief posing as a locksmith (it couldn't have been more obvious if he was a plummer - pick and choose your metaphors). A walking talking cliche, he embodies everything about those hot blooded Latinos that porn producers think ladies pine for. Here's where my suspension of disbelief fails a little; would Mary, the docile housewife, really go for this stud? It's all a bit suspect of a storytelling device designed to drive a wedge between the couple, who seem to be truly inseparable (shackled - no, handcuffed together). The script cheats a tad to get to that final gag, which is littered with delightful nods to everything the Blands have gone through. Eating Raoul indeed. It doesn't have the zany energy of a proper screwball, but Bartel finds something unique here, a sharp little black comedy about a sex-crazed world and the odd couple who wade through all the filth and persevere. They play it straight through and through - there's never even a hint of Cary Grant's manic stare from Arsenic and Old Lace to give it all away. It's a nicely seared veal, with just a touch of murder on the side.

Straight-laced middle-class couple Paul (a fine and likable performance by Paul Bartel) and Mary Bland (the always great Mary Woronov) are forced to murder decadent perverted swingers in order to raise the necessary money so they can realize their dream of opening a restaurant. Shrewd and unscrupulous con man hustler Raoul Mendoza (smoothly played by Robert Beltran) helps the pair dispose of the bodies of their victims.Director Bartel, who also co-wrote the witty script with Richard Blackburn (who appears as nice guy real estate agent James), maintains a deliciously dry'n'deadpan tone while poking wickedly hilarious satirical fun at uptight traditional American values, debauched rich folks, the moral erosion caused by the sexual revolution, how the hedonistic excessiveness of the 1970's was rebuked by the oppressive conservatism of the Reagan-era 1980's (the swinger victims are all total raunchy products of the 1970's while the Blands represent the staid'n'standard status quo-abiding types who voted Ronald Reagan into public office as President), and the desperate measures ordinary decent folks must resort to so they can achieve their goals in an amoral society. The spot-on winning and natural chemistry between Bartel and his frequent co-star Woronov gives this picture a teeming surplus of pure radiantly loopy heart; indeed, the Blands are perhaps the most appealing murderous couple in the history of cinema. It's this singularly good-natured screwball charm which in turn makes this movie so special and delightful. Susan Saiger positively shines as the sweet Doris the Dominatrix, who happily dispenses business advice while doing her laundry and feeding her infant son. Popping up in neat small parts are Buck Henry as smarmy bank president Mr. Leech, Garry Goodrow as the Blands' aggressively lascivious drunken first victim, Ed Begley Jr. as a horny hippie pothead, John Paragon as a pushy sex store clerk, Don Steele as obnoxious party host Howard Swine, and Eddie McClurg as the ditsy Susan. Kudos are also in order for Arlon Ober's bouncy jazzy score and the bright cinematography by Gary Thieltges. An absolute hoot.

I'm a major movie watcher and go through about 30-50 movies a month. Upon watching so many movies I'm lucky to get 2 or 3 I really like. So when I came across this gem it was truly a diamond in the rough. This is a very low budget film made with money Paul Bartel borrowed from his parents since Hollywood wouldn't touch it. And thank god they didn't! It's perfect. The plot of the movie is basically a couple needs money to close on a house quickly and they decide to attract customers of the sexually devious nature through the newspaper and take advantage of their perverse behavior. But this is just the surface. Beneath this story is a great message about society and the way sex can and does corrupt us all. Eating Raoul is a B-movie comedy masterpiece and I love seeing low budget movies pull off timeless quality films. It ranks as a must see to any B-movie enthusiast and movie lover for that matter.