Showing posts with label Aline Mess. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Aline Mess. Show all posts

Sunday, May 13, 2012

Diamonds of Kilimanjaro (Jess Franco, 1983)

I think it's safe to say that the last vestiges of my world famous aversion to jungle movies has finally been whittled away. And by "jungle movies," I'm referring to movies that take place in or around a jungle. But mostly "in," since to be considered a true "jungle movie" it should take place "in" the jungle, not "around" the jungle, as that's not really the same thing as being "in" the jungle. Okay, now that I've cleared that up. I have nothing against the location (I love palm trees and ferns are totally awesome), it mainly has to do with the type of clothing worn by the characters when they're fully immersed "in" the jungle. The sight of attractive people wearing drab colours, such as beige or khaki, is the epitome of off-putting from my gay perspective. This, I've noticed, is never problem when it comes to writer-director Jess Franco (Eugénie de Sade and Faceless), as his jungle films always seems to have one or two characters who are dressed inappropriately. It becomes even more less of a problem when some of the characters wear pretty much nothing at all. Which is the most common non-dilemma in Diamonds of Kilimanjaro (a.k.a. The Treasure of the White Goddess), yet another tale of greedy white people fucking over black people. Taking place somewhere in Africa (the name "Kilimanjaro" isn't uttered once) during a time when t-shirts were scarce, and sneakers were even scarcer, it features topless men and women carrying spears while saying variations of the phrase "ooga booga" over and over again, the film is actually a mildly profound examination of colonialism, and its effect on the local population. Think about it, how would you feel if a steady flow of white people kept poking around your neighbourhood looking for natural resources to steal. Sure, they'll tell that they're just "exploring," but that's same bullshit line Christopher Columbus used, and look how that turned out: Slavery, Genocide, War, and Ke$ha.       
 
 
Diamonds, or "sparkly rocks," as they're sometimes called, are what some of the white people in this film want, the others just want to make lots of money. Acquiring the former is rather simple: just hike through the jungle to where the diamonds are and scoop them up. The latter is a little more complicated, as it involves locating a white woman who has gone "native," and bringing her home. A sickly woman on her death bed named Hermine (Lina Romay) wants her to come home when word gets around that she is living in Africa. You see, while everyone thought Diana (Katja Bienert) died in a plane crash along with her Scottish-accented father, Mr. De Winter (Daniel White), the two of them actually survived. And not only that, they became the de facto gods of a tribe of natives. Impressed by the fact that they came from the sky, the natives bow down before them the moment they emerge from their wrecked aircraft.
 
 
After opening with the plane crash and some of shots of the jungle it crashed set to bongo music, we flash forward ten years to see Diana, a little girl when her plane went down, all grown up. Lounging in a tree eating an apple, her shapely legs stretched out for the world to see, and by "world," I mean her pet monkey, this is one perennially blouse-free white woman who seems to have her shit together. Free fruit (it's literally growing from the trees), strong calves, a pet monkey, treated like a god by the locals, who wouldn't want to crash land "in" the middle of the jungle?
 
 
Meanwhile, as Diana lounges, a slinky drink of water named Noba (Aline Mess) and her band of male warriors are threatening to kill Payton (Albino Graziani), a white man who has ventured into their tribe's territory. Hearing the commotion from her treetop perch, Diana swings into action, and stops Noba from harming the white man (who is carrying a pocket full of uncut diamonds) just in the nick of time. You'll notice when Diana arrives on the scene that all the men drop to their knees; they are, after all, in their mind, in the presence of a god. Yeah, but did you see who wasn't on their knees? That's right, Noba was the only one who didn't bow. And why should she? She's fucking Noba! 
 
 
Anyway, Diana decides to spare Payton's life, and let's him go, telling him not to come back. Oh, Diana, you're so naive. Don't you know that white men rarely listen to scantily clad women who enjoy fresh fruit and have one-sided conversations with flea-ridden monkeys. If, say, you were wearing a ladies business suit–you know, one with a modest grey skirt with a mild slit in the back, then maybe he would have taken heed. But you weren't wearing a ladies business suit. You don't even know what a grey skirt looks like, do you? Nonetheless, you were wearing a brown hand towel. In other words, you can expect to see him again real soon. And not only that, he'll probably bring more white people the next time around.
 
 
Doing exactly what I said he would do, Payton tells a hunting buddy, Fred Pereira (Antonio Mayans), who tells Diana's uncle Mathieu (Oliver Mathot) that he had encounter with a white woman during a recent trip to the jungle. The uncle tells Diana's sickly mother that her daughter may be alive, and organizes a team to go look for her. This team includes: Payton, Fred, Mathieu, Lita (Mari Carmen Nieto), Mathieu's "girlfriend," and Rofo (Javier Maiza), their headstrong guide.
 
 
Whoever decided to cast Lina Romay as Diana's bedridden mother needs to have their genitals examined. Don't get me wrong, I thought Mari Carmen Nieto was a fine choice to play Mathieu's "girlfriend" (the reason word "girlfriend" is put in quotes is because I wasn't buying Mathieu's heterosexuality for a second), but Lina should have played the obligatory female member, the damsel in intentionally distressed jean shorts, if you will, of this so-called "rescue" party.
 
 
It sounds like you're not fully convinced of their sincerity when it comes to rescuing Diana from the mossy clutches of the jungle. Is it that obvious? Call me cynical, but I don't think any of the people involved in the search for Diana actually want to find her. I mean, other than Rofo, whose motives seen genuine (he's simply being paid to do a job), they all seem more interested in diamonds, than they do the whereabouts of a leggy jungle girl with zero charisma.
 
 
The magnitude of the scam being perpetrated is revealed when Lita shows up in Fred's room and straight up tells him: "We don't want to bring her back." She hammers the point home by seducing Fred with a series come hither looks and, of course, the ultra-smooth appendages jutting out from the bottom of her frilly nightie.
 
 
Arriving at what looks like the set of Oasis of the Zombies (a Jess Franco film that also featured Antonio Mayans and Javier Maiza), the group is greeted with stock footage of a charging rhinoceros and the sound of someone dicking around on a Moog synthesizer. Things get off to shaky start almost immediately when Payton decides to shoot one of the locals for no good reason. This angers Noba and the rest of her tribe. Well, duh. Let's just say, don't be surprised if you see Noba holding Payton's severed head aloft in triumph in the not-so distant future.
 
 
Watching them as they make camp by the banks of a crocodile-infested river, Diana observes their behaviour with a head tilting brand of curiosity. They're white like me, by they don't act like me, she must be thinking to herself as she observes them carrying on in a white manner: Mathieu drinks booze; Payton whines about his stomach; Rofo grumbles to himself; Fred is scheming in a headband; and Lita goes skinny dipping. Hey, wait a minute. Didn't you say the river was "crocodile-infested"? Don't worry, the crocs weren't really there. Like the charging rhino, all the animals who appear in Diamonds of Kilimanjaro are culled from stock footage.
 
 
It's too bad Jess Franco couldn't get a clear shot of Mari Carmen Nieto as she changed out of her cut-off jean shorts, pink boots, and white top, as it had the potential to be really sexy. In retrospect, I suppose the scene was shot that way to create the illusion that Diana was watching her get undressed from the bushes. But still, I was annoyed by the obstructed view.
 
 
While not on the same level as the riverside changing debacle, I was still somewhat annoyed by the fact that Katja Bienert can be seen wearing strappy high heel shoes at one point. It's true, they only appear for a brief moment (as she's lounging against a tree). But the second I saw them, my heart sank. I thought to myself: Can't this film get anything right? 
 
 
Luckily, the gorgeous Aline Mess was always nearby to provide the titillation I so desperately crave. Playing Noba, the fierce female warrior woman who loves to show off that tight little body of hers, Aline, an actress who you might remember from Jess Franco's Devil Hunter, brings some much needed sex appeal to the proceedings. Whether shaking delicious booty with a hypnotic gusto, laughing maniacally after informing a white man that the arrow he was just shot with was poisonous ("soon you die! poison arrow! ha! ha! ha!") or railing against the scourge that is imperialistic greed, Miss Mess is a revelation as a tempestuous woman determined to protect her people from unscrupulous outsiders hellbent on exploiting her land.
 
 
Even though you're not supposed to (or maybe you are, what do I know?), you can't help but root for Noba, as everything she does in this movie, whether it involved killing white people or, well, yeah, killing white people, was the correct course of action. The fact that Diana is one who repeatedly stands in her way, caused me to look at her with a shitload of suspicion. To be fair, her naive brain has yet to develop the ability to spot duplicity in the hearts of men, and I can't really blame her for falling under the spell of Fred Pereira, as Antonio Mayans is at his most ruggedly handsome in this film (even more so than he was in Golden Temple Amazons).
 
 
Speaking of Golden Temple Amazons, I would put Diamonds of Kilimanjaro a couple of notches below it in terms of Jess Franco-directed jungle movies, as it features real animals, a villain with an eye-patch, and much more compelling lead actress.
 

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Friday, May 4, 2012

Devil Hunter (Jess Franco, 1980)

One woman is chased through the jungle by a furious throng in furry thongs, while another is pursued through the streets by hordes of photographers in tan slacks. The people chasing the former want to feed the woman's still beating heart to their scantily clad god, while the one's pursuing the latter want to sell her image to the highest bidder. What's the difference, you ask? In a way, it's cultural. However, writer-director Jess Franco (Eugénie de Sade) and writer Julián Esteban go one step further in Devil Hunter (a.k.a. Sexo Caníbal), a cannibal movie with brains and little else. On the surface, the film seems like yet another attempt to cash in on the whole cannibal craze that was sweeping Europe during the disco era. Yet bubbling underneath all that gut-munching nonsense lies a blistering satire, one that takes a sharp look at the wonky state of white supremacy in the late twentieth century. Judging by the frantic screams coming from the woman being chased through the tropical undergrowth, it was obvious that she didn't want the bug-eyed deity, the one currently growling menacingly in her presence (and in desperate need of some Visine®), to eat her heart out. In other words, the fact that she resisted was all the information I needed to tell me that the practice of eating the hearts of women who are still using them is morally repugnant. (Eating the organs of the recently deceased is on the cusp of being acceptable, but eating the organs of the living crosses the line as far as I'm concerned.) As her now heartless body hung there naked from a tree, I couldn't help but wonder why no-one had tried to help her. It would seem that the life of a black woman with no connections to show business doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things. Whereas, a white, skinny, blonde woman with no personality whatsoever has dozens of her fellow white people bending over backwards to save her heart from being the next meal of a clothes optional cannibal god.

 
The way the opening scene captured the nonexistent dichotomy between so-called civilized and uncivilized cultures was a stroke of genius. The skimpily-attired tribesmen running after the unnamed woman, who, from now on, will be known as "Rahmatulah" (Ana Paula from Cecilia), want something from her, and so do the pantyhose clad kidnappers who are after Laura Crawford (Ursula Buchfellner), a well-known untalented actress. They both want to exploit their victim's femininity in order to gain power: the tribesmen want to appease their god, while the kidnappers want to appease their bank accounts.

 
Why do white people always act surprised when the non-white locals indigenous to the far-off lands they insist on travelling to on a regular basis try to kill them? It's a question that has not plagued white people since the beginning of time. 

 
The majority of white people lose their lives at the hands of non-white locals for a number of different reasons. The most common reason being greed. While the blood that once flowed through Rahmatulah's heart is about to start running down the cannibal god's chin, Laura Crawford, her white counterpart, is being showered with praise; well, at least she thinks she is. Wearing a pink one piece bathing suit, Laura waves at the passersby as her convertible rolls through a bustling, unnamed beachfront community. Do they know who she is? It doesn't matter, she seems to think they do, and, from the perspective of a mind that's been properly deluded, that's all that really matters.

 
Purportedly in town to check out locations for her next film, Laura is unaware that she is being stalked by a blonde woman named Jane (Gisela Hahn), or is she? You see, moments after we see Jane behaving oddly near the beach where Laura is frolicking with her dog, we see them sitting together. I'm confused, why would Jane need to spy on someone she's clearly acquainted with? I don't know, but it would seem that Jane is Laura's assistant, and they're busy watching a private bathing suit fashion show together.  

 
While the sound of bongos and flesh tearing are the soundtrack to Rahmatulah's gruesome demise, the sound of chloroform being sprayed and splashing water are the last things Laura hears as she comes face-to-face with her worst nightmare: a greedy, two timing assistant with bills to pay. As she is taking a bath, Jane and two men wearing pantyhose on their heads swoop into Laura's bathroom. Knocking her out with the aforementioned chloroform (now available in an easy to use spray bottle), the men drag her naked body out of the tub.  

 
Waking up chained to a wall in a dilapidated building in the jungle, Laura Crawford is probably thinking to herself: why were the men wearing pantyhose on their heads? I mean, they're not wearing them now. Actually, the chances that Laura would think anything, let alone the reasoning behind her kidnappers lack of disguises in the post-bathroom abduction phase of their criminal undertaking, are pretty remote. I'll be blunt, Laura is profoundly stupid. She doesn't seem to have a clue about anything whatsoever.

 
Anyway, Laura hasn't got time to worry about that, because Chris (Werner Pochath), one of the kidnappers, is starting to lose it. Unaccustomed to the jungle way of life, Chris rants against what he calls, "a fucking awful place." This scene manages to be comedic and sexy simultaneously. How so, you ask? Well, the frazzled kidnapper provides the funny, as his delivery while uttering the following, "This wild vegetation gives me the creeps," "Damn it, damn it, damn it, damn it," and, my personal favourite, "Flowers shit!" was outstanding. And the alluring Ursula Buchfellner brings the sexy as she hang there in her pink, thigh-friendly, strategically torn, jungle captive-wear. In order to help sell the sizzle, Jess Franco pans up Ursula's unpretentious frame in a slow, deliberate fashion.
 
 
Desperate to find an activity that will take his mind off the jungle, Chris decides to threaten Laura with a nasty-looking knife with a curved blade, while a fellow kidnapper named Pablito (Melo Costa) laughs in the background.

 
Hired by Laura's agent, the rugged Peter Weston (Al Cliver) is told to bring the kidnappers six million dollars in exchange for the blonde's safe return. He's been given 200,000 dollars for expenses, but he's informed on the way out that if he brings back Laura and the six million, he'll get 10%. Now, I'm no math whiz, but that sounds like a pretty sweet deal. Meanwhile, back in the jungle, Chris is still ranting and raving. While I can't say that I really blame him (the bird noises alone are enough to drive even the most hardened of kidnappers up the wall), someone should tell him to get his shit together, or, at the very least, give him a good slap in the nuts.

 
Luckily for the kidnappers, Thomas (Antonio de Cabo) is there to give the criminal undertaking an air of dignity and class. Okay, maybe that's pushing it, after all, he does rape Laura while she's chained to a wall (a vile act a poncho-wearing Jane tries to watch from the comfort of a hammock, but she is quickly told to beat it). But there's no denying that Thomas is clearly the brains of the operation. 
 
 
After being given a message at a hotel by a mysterious woman wearing white cowboy boots, a woman who is credited as "Girl on Yacht" (Cecilia's Muriel Montossé), Peter hops aboard a helicopter, piloted by a Vietnam vet named Jack (Antonio Mayans), and heads to Santos Island. You would think that Jack, being a veteran of a war that took place mainly in the jungle, would be used to the tropical climate. But that's where you would be wrong. Traumatized by the experience, Jack is complaining, in a ridiculous-sounding southern accent, about the humidity no less than five seconds after landing on the island.  

 
The prospect of earning 10% of six million dollars was obviously in the back of his mind, as Peter tries to pull one over on the kidnappers (the bag containing the money was filled with blank sheets of paper). However, in his defense, Thomas does try to screw over Peter as well (his lackies hiding up on a cliff open fire on Peter and Jack during the botched exchange), so it was only fair that Peter give duplicity a go. Either way, both their plans end up backfiring, as Laura runs off into the jungle during the commotion. Without Laura, the kidnappers have nothing to bargain with. It's not all fun and games for her so-called rescuers, as they have nothing to show for their effort, either.
 
 
As the two sides fall into disarray (some nursing bullet wounds), and Laura is busy stumbling mindlessly through the jungle, a murderous fiend has quietly gained the upper hand. They don't realize it yet, but their all being stalked by a naked man with bloodshot eyes. If you thought the sound of birds chirping was creepy, wait until you hear the sound of a cannibal with bronchitis, it will rob you of at least four drops of your semi-precious pee ("semi-"precious because it's just pee).
 
 
The rescuers do manage to gain a bit of an advantage when they stumble upon the kidnapper's yacht, a yacht that features–you guessed it–Muriel Montossé's "Girl on Yacht." She may only be "Girl on Yacht," but this is one yacht-based woman who knows a thing or two about the locals. Even though she's working for the kidnappers, she doesn't seem to mind giving Peter and Jack the skinny on the cannibals. Speaking of skinny, or not skinny in this case, Muriel Montossé's trademark big French booty is fuller than ever in Devil Hunter, as we see it briefly as it struggles hang onto a skimpy pair of bikini bottoms (five, count 'em, five coin slot's worth of ass crack are on display for your corporeal enjoyment).

 
Even though I repeatedly mocked her lack of intelligence, Ursula Buchfellner should be commended for her fearless performance as Laura Crawford, the poster girl for vacuous hose-beasts. Raped, drugged, tortured, carried down cliffs, bathed against her will (hell, the gorgeous Aline Mess even massages her with flowers at one point), and shackled to just about everything you can imagine, Ursula may not have much to say in terms of dialogue (her verbal output in this film is limited to whimpering softly and screaming loudly). But she more than makes up for it with sheer moxie, which is what ended up making Devil Hunter the passable slab of untoward entertainment that is ultimately is.


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