Legendary Texas exploitation producer Larry Buchanan proves that the Mafia, Castro, Bobby Kennedy, the CIA, the FBI, Elvis and the Russians all did everything bad for the last year, including murder Marilyn Monroe, in this conspiracy flick that completes his five- picture assassination epic (the first four were "Naughty Dallas," "The Trial of Lee Harvey Oswald," "Goodbye Norma Jean" and "Down On Us," which revealed the anti-rock music conspiracy that systematically killed Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendrix and Jim Morrison). In this expose, Larry reveals that Marilyn died three days before her press conference to tell everything she knew about Bobby Kennedy, the Mafia, Jimmy Hoffa and Cuba. This movie gets a perfect 100 on the Sleaze Meter, with Misty Rowe as Norma Jean Baker before her plastic surgery, and Paula Lane as Marilyn AFTER the plastic surgery, and between em they sleep with half the pork-bellied cigar-smoking pasty-face slime-meisters in Hollywood. By the time she asks her buddy to shoot her up with a little sodium pentathol, you're thinking, "Thank God, is it almost over?" Eight breasts. One dead body. Wrist slitting. Multiple aardvarking. Two rapes. "Whammo Ammo Girl" beauty contest. Creep City photo sessions for True Detective magazine. Weirdbeard Hollywood pool parties. Nightmare sequence in which she sings "Happy Birthday" to President Kennedy in Madison Square Garden. Casting couch Fu. Lesbo Fu. With Phyllis Coates as Norma Jean's dead mother in a strait-jacket ("The tomcats are after you! That's how it is, baby!"), Terrance Locke as the sleaziest movie studio head ever seen on the screen ("She had kind of a HOMEY quality"), Kenneth Hicks as the scuzzy FBI doctor ("You know, when we're through here, drowning might be an option"), Joyce Lower as the CIA psychiatrist ("You always relied on the kindness of powerful men, DIDN'T you?"). Paula Lane has the best line: "Do they have cameras in heaven?"