How on the Vorta homeworld (No Ketracel-white for you!) do I end up watching these movies? Whatever do you mean? It's obvious that you put in motion a set of circumstances where your eyeballs repeatedly find themselves bathing in their unsavoury glow. Oh, I know how the images wind up hitting my face (it's a simple matter of physics). What I'm curious to know is, why do I watch Naziploitation movies? If you think about it, I don't really care for them all that much. Yet, when push comes to shove (whatever that means), and given the choice between an absorbing drama, one that is replete with fine acting and lush cinematography, and an Italian made flick about horny Nazis, I'll always choose the latter. Which is strange, because after watching SS Camp 5: Women's Hell, I made a vow that I was done with the genre for good. You see, the film let me down in terms of delivery the irregular titillation I so wantonly crave, and, get this, it had the nerve to use authentic-looking Holocaust stock footage to tell its depraved tale (the film opens with a photo montage that features actual pictures that were taken at concentration camps). Talk about tasteless. Okay, that's all fine and dandy. But how do you explain the fact you're currently writing about SS Experiment Love Camp? What happened to your vow? I mean, not only is it a Naziploitation film (the genre you vowed to eschew with extreme prejudice), it's by the same director as SS Camp 5: Women's Hell (Sergio Garrone), features the same cast, and was shot on the same set. Call it a lapse in judgment, or blame it on a total lack of mental fortitude on my part, but I decided to give the genre, the director, the cast, and, I guess the set as well, a second chance. 
Besides, it would pretty dishonest of you to turn your back on a genre you secretly love. C'mon, admit it? You get a perverse thrill out of watching films that so-called normal society tend to shun. They coat your fragile aura with a layer of self-satisfying smugness; the kind you can't find down at your local smug-mart. You're partially right. But you're forgetting one key ingredient: If I don't watch these films, who will? I'm providing a public service and should be commended, not ridiculed, for the work I do.
Now that I've come to grips with the fact that I just watched SS Experiment Love Camp on purpose, I can train my razor-sharp wit on the film itself. I'll admit, it was struggle at first. However, things started to get easier once I discovered what the film was actually about. Sure, it took longer than usual to figure out what the premise was. But once it dawned on me, I felt a wave of relief wash over my confused nimbus. The film is, to put it in the bluntest terms possible, about a man without a cock, and the extreme lengths he'll go to in order to get a new cock. Since it was the horrors of war that cost him his cock in the first place (note to Nazi officers, don't, under any circumstances, let Soviet women go down on you), it only makes sense that he try to get it back by utilizing the horrors of the very same war that took it away.
Well, it doesn't make sense to me, as I'm not a Nazi officer circa World War II who expects the oral sex he receives in bombed out buildings on the Eastern Front to not involve Soviet teeth tearing through Nazi-aligned genitalia.
When I found out that SS Experiment Love Camp was basically about a blonde man without a functioning penis, my spirit began to soar like a butterfly or some other fruity ass insect.
I've noticed that most Naziploitation flicks start off with a truck filled to the brim with frightened young women arriving at a concentration camp, but SS Experiment Love Camp puts that scene on hold. It wastes little time getting to the torture, as the films opens with Dr. Renke (Patrizia Melega), Col. von Kleiben (Giorgio Cerioni), and Sergeant Tom Lennon (Serafino Profumo) performing electro-shock "therapy" on a naked prisoner. Demanding that she swear allegiance to the Führer, Tom Lennon would turn on the juice every time she refused. When she loses consciousness, they slap her on a gurney and take her to the crematorium. The act of transporting naked, unconscious women on a gurneys is a recurring theme in this film, one that becomes commonplace over time.
As expected, a truck arrives, and before anyone can ask if there's any hot water, the newbies are lathing themselves up in the shower. Wait a minute. Let me get something straight. You mean to tell me we've already had a torture scene and a shower scene? (The latter has close-up shots of untamed bush.) I know, it's pretty great. eh? Well, I'll be the judge of that. But please, do continue.
Herded like cattle into a some kind of laboratory, the new girls are all given the once over by Dr. Steiner (Attilio Dottesio) and Dr. Renke, as they check their blood pressure and take blood samples. The brunette prisoner, let's call her, Fiona (Almina De Sanzio), with the small, scrumptious breasts and a healthy mound of you know what languishing between her legs catches attention of Dr. Renke, a woman who clearly has awesome taste when it comes to the ladies. You just know that this brief encounter of theirs is going pay off later on. Call me sad and pathetic, but I'm looking forward to watching the sexy results.
We're quickly introduced to a bunch male soldiers who are completely in the dark as to what they're doing here. One of the men, the guy lounging like a gay sailor on shore leave, tells his comrades that he hopes their secret mission is of a sexual nature, because, let's face it, he's randy as...a gay sailor on shore leave .
If Dr. Renke has dibs on Fiona's plush pussy, and Helmut (Mircha Carven), one of the men from the previous scene, has set his sights on a prisoner named Mirelle (Paola Corazzi), I want to make it known that I would like to do morally offensive things to Elsa; at least I think her name was Elsa. Anyway, she's the small one with the reddish short hair standing at the end of the row as Dr. Renke gives the new girls a speech on how to behave at this camp; do as you're told, and you'll go far, misbehave, and you'll be sorry. In other words, back off, Heinrich. She's mine. And, like I was saying, in case I wasn't clear: I want to sexually devour Elsa's aura with a ladle that was specifically designed to serve perverts the auras of sexy babes possibly named Elsa.
Speaking of calling dibs, I wasn't sure which new girl Col. von Kleiben fancied. Which got me a thinking: Does he even like women? If anything, he seems way more interested in the fellas than he does the ladies. Whatever the case may be, he's determined that their experiments bear scientific fruit.
Just as I was starting to wonder why no-one was reciprocating Col. von Kleiben's Nazi salutes (he seemed to put so much effort into them), we're suddenly ushered into the camp's brothel, which is run, of course, by a woman named Magda, where Mirelle and a shy blonde are told that they can be whores, if they play their cards right. And judging by the way she sauntered into the sitting room, it's obvious that Elsa has been playing her cards in the correct manner.
Even though I didn't catch her name, the shy blonde, who, for now on, will be known as "Petunia," has one of the film's most compelling story arcs. Culminating at an orgy that features the camp's leggiest whores (a stem-worthy collection of hold-up stocking enthusiasts and opportunistic hosebeasts), including my personal favourite, the brash Elsa, Petunia hopes to survive the ordeal unmolested. Hiding under the stairs while Tom Lennon and a group of enlisted men have their way with the girls, Petunia watches in horror from the sidelines.
We soon learn why she was reluctant to participate in the not-so impromptu sex party. However, truth be told, I was too busy grumbling over the fact that scumbag Tom Lennon got to lick Elsa's rock hard body from head to toe. Bastard. But not too worry, Petunia, her once pristine pussy pulsating with the plague that is penile pestilence, has a giant fork with his name on it. Oh, and when I say, "giant fork," I ain't kidding around, this fucker is forked with every tine in its forking arsenal.
If you're wondering what Col. von Kleiben's been up to, he's been busy trying to decide what penis (and I presume balls) he wants. What do you mean what penis, and presumably balls, does he want? Yeah, I'm afraid the reason for all the inmate's pain and suffering is because Col. von Kleiben doesn't have a dick. Oh, and to prevent you from saying something to the affect of, "and I presume his balls" every time you mention the fact he doesn't have a dick, may I suggest that you say, "he doesn't have functioning genitals." That way, you can cover all the bases (let's assume his taint is tip top shape). Excellent advice.
Anyway, after slipping something into Helmut's drink, Col. von Kleiben introduces him to Elsa, who is wearing a long burgundy skirt with white blouse), and a brunette with short hair in a little black dress, let's call her "Alice," who march into the room with a whorish swagger. Don't believe me, check out the way Elsa picks up and begins eating a cookie, it's downright cocksure. Sitting in a comfy chair at the end of the bed, Col. von Kleiben watches Elsa get undressed (she's now wearing nothing but black fishnet hold-up stockings with red lace trim). Making her way over to where Helmut and Alice are already in throes of passion, Elsa throws herself into the mix. Soon their bodies are a mass of indistinguishable flesh. Well, not really, Elsa's flesh is always distinguishable. Nonetheless, it's obvious that Col. von Kleiben likes the way Helmut thrusts.
After having Dr. Steiner practice transplanting ovaries on about a dozen women (all unsuccessful, by the way), Col. von Kleiben tells him he's ready to receive his new genitals. One agony-inducing penis surgery scene later, and Col. von Kleiben seems to have a spring in his penis. While I'm happy for him, but what about Helmut's helmet? He's not going to be pleased when he finds out that his thrusts have gone from being robust and rhythmic to being lumpy and sub-par. This crotch-based discovery is what leads to the film's best line, and that is, "How you been doing with my balls?" When Helmut asks the Colonel that particularly loaded question, I nearly fell off...now, I want to say, "my couch," but I don't want people thinking I sit on furniture, how crass. Let's just say, I was shocked by its succinct brand of stupidity. Which, in a funny kind of way, saved SS Experiment Love Camp from being yet another dreary and tasteless Naziploitation flick made by Italians.
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