Emanuelle Around the World (Joe D'Amato, 1977)

The plucky intrepid photojournalist from Emanuelle In America is back, and this time it's, um... I wouldn't say it's personal, as being forced to watch a dog rape a woman or a shapely milf show mild discomfort over the fact that her garter belt clip is digging into her thigh aren't exactly things I'd call "personal." Think about it, she is not an active participant, she is merely a spectator. No, I'd say it's more unsettling than anything else. I mean, imagine a world where stockings caused pain. Exactly, it's not a world I would want to live in, either. Now, granted, dogs raping women in Macau is pretty heinous. But I think most sane or close to sane people will agree that the sight of a milfy blonde experiencing garter-based distress is much more disturbing. To make things even more disturbing, her step-son and Emanuelle are hiding in a nearby closet.  Luckily for the milfy blonde, she has her girlfriend by her side to alleviate her hosiery troubles. And what happens after this nylon dilemma has been solved? Duh, cunnilingus. It's true, I'm trying to focus on one of the few scenes in Joe D'Amato's Emanuelle Around the World that doesn't end in an orgy of degrading sexual violence in order to maintain my mental health. But how long can I continue to talk about a five minute scene that revolves around stockings and cunnilingus?

I don't know, but I think I just gave myself a challenge. Let's see, where does the stocking scene fit in the overall scheme of this odious slab of Italian trash?

As most of you already know, Laura Gemser's Emanuelle is a reporter who travels the world in order to expose corruption and criminality of the unsavory variety. While in Rome, she convinces two women to join a sting operation to bring down a sex slave operation run by a deformed man with pus-laden right eye.

Never one to go into a sticky situation without a solid plan B, Emanuelle enlists the help of a mildly hunky motorcyclist. When the mildly hunky motorcyclist comes through in the clutch, Emanuelle decides to repay him the only way she knows how. That's right, she uses the soft confines of her buttery vagina to thank the mildly hunky motorcyclist for his services.

Well, she would like to do so. But she can't at the moment, as the mildly hunky motorcyclist's step-mom just came abroad the boat, with her girlfriend in tow, just as they were about have European-style sexual intercourse.

It's this exact moment when the mildly hunky motorcyclist's milfy step-mom begins complain to her girlfriend that the clips on her garter belt have begun to dig into her legs. While removing the stockings is the only logical way to alleviate her discomfort, the sight of her stockings being removed caused me to become quite enraged.

Actually, is it, though? (Is it what?) Is removing the stockings the only logical way to alleviate her discomfort? I mean, I'm sure two reasonably intelligent Italian women can figure out a way to solve this garter quandary without having to resort to drastic measures.

Nevertheless, the mildly hunky motorcyclist's milfy step-mom is rewarded with guilt-free cunnilingus. And at the end of the day, that's all that really matters. Though, I have to say, the cunnilingus, from my point of view, anyway, would have been a million times sweeter had the mildly hunky motorcyclist's step-mom's girlfriend's head, no doubt, bobby and weaving in the throes of performing hearty cunnilingus, been framed by the mildly hunky motorcyclist's step-mom's creamy, stocking-encased thighs as the mildly hunky motorcyclist's girlfriend dined heartily on her throbbing Italo-clit. I'm just... yeah.

It should go without saying, but all the women who appear in this film are gorgeous. As for the men, they are a disgusting bouquet of creeps and low-lifes. In fact, I would go as far to say that's there's not an attractive one in the lot.

I mean, it's pretty much one dysphoria-causing bearded face after another.

Seriously. Don't these scumbags know how to shave?

Oh, hello. Who are you? Now that's a sexy man. (Who are you talking about?) While Emanuelle is hiding in the closet with the mildly hunky motorcyclist, her partner, Cora Norman (Karin Schubert), visited by some shady characters. Anyway, I didn't feel dysphoric at all while their leader was on-screen. Sure, his bearded henchmen made me want to chop up my disgusting body and toss the pieces into the nearest active volcano, but still... I dug this guy. Of course, I disagree with what he and his henchmen do in this film (as you might expect, it's monstrous), but... yeah.

Have I mentioned that this film is refreshingly pornographic? No? Damn, I must be slipping or something. At any rate, I wish more films had a sprinkling of porn in them. Though, if you're going to use a body double for the lead actress when it comes time for a hardcore close-up, the least you could do is get someone who has the same skin colour. The woman they got to portray Laura Gemser's vagina as it plowed into a cock during an orgy wasn't close to being Gemser brown.  I don't why they couldn't have just painted her crotch and butt brown. I'm sure they had some brown paint leftover from the can they used on George Eastman, who plays an Indian guru.

Moving on. Whether you like it or not, the film's main theme by Nico Fidenco, which plays close to six times over the course of the film, will not leave your brain willingly. Neither will the dog rape scene, the wooden dildo party, the New York bum rape scene (a group of derelicts rape Miss Ohio for the amusement of a bunch of rich fucks) or the banana penetration scene.

It's not all beastly and foul, the lesbian scene between Laura Gemser and Brigitte Petronio (The House on the Edge of the Park) is kind of tender, as is the well-documented scene that takes place on the boat (ahoy! cunnilingus!). So, yeah. It's beautiful and unpleasant at the same time. Win-win.

Oh, and keep an eye for the cameo by adult film legend Paul Thomas (The Devil in Miss Jones 3: A New Beginning), he plays a truck driver (it occurs during the first few minutes).

All the Colours of the Dark (Sergio Martino, 1972)

If a movie causes you to check your body for Satanic tattoos after it's over, you know it's doing something right. Hey, you know what they say? Post-consumption bodily self-inspection is the cornerstone of fine art. I'm also curious to know how many pairs of black, almost knee-high boots were sold after All the Colours of the Dark (a.k.a. They're Coming to Get You) hit the faces of the boot-loving populace back in the early 1970s. In fact, it wouldn't surprise me if they [the boot manufactures] had a booth set up in the theatre lobby. And why not? I mean, who wouldn't want to emulate the stylish sophistication Edwige Fenech exudes throughout this giallo thriller with supernatural overtones? Sure, some of us can only dream of being a chic brunette with a blemish-free T-zone and a pair of legs that are creamy enough to be poured into the blackest, almost knee-high boots money can buy, but that's where Italian cinema comes in. Designed to plug up the gaping holes that litter our pathetic, non-boot-adorned lives, writer-director Sergio Martino (Torso) has created a fantastical world jam-packed with the kind of images that will make you swoon like a baby that was just secreted from the wart-laden slip 'n slide that is your average witch's birth canal. Funny, I didn't know witch babies liked movies that featured Satanic rituals, freaky dream sequences, blue-eyed dagger enthusiasts, and angelic women with dark hair who writhe a lot? They should, but they don't. Then again, I was speaking metaphorically. Actually, the film is pretty sparse when it comes to scenes that involve Satanists doing what Satanists do best, and that is, of course, worshiping Satan. And, come to think of it, the film seemed to be lacking in the freaky dream sequence department. But as far as blue-eyed dagger enthusiasts and angelic brunettes go, this is the film to see to get your fill of both.
 

 

Even though I thought his eyebrows could use a bit of a trim, Ivan Rassimov makes his presence felt almost immediately as...well, he's credited as "Mark Cogan," but I like to call him the blue-eyed dagger enthusiast. Why is that, you ask? Well, for starters, his eyes are blue. And secondly, he's always carrying a dagger in a manner that struck me as enthusiastic. Which got me a thinking. If you put those two distinct character traits together, you get: Blue-eyed dagger enthusiast. 
 

 

I don't think I have to explain why I called Edwige Fenech's character an angelic woman with dark hair. Don't forget, an angelic woman who also writhes a lot. Yeah, yeah, who writhes a lot. If you want me to explain why, I'll be more than happy to. Hmmm, judging by your frantic head shaking, I'll take that as a no. Your loss.
 

 

Don't be fooled by the serenity that greets us right off the bat (the opening credits are an unbroken shot of a pastoral pond), because things are are about to get sick, brainsick, that is.
 

 

Suddenly, a clock appears out of nowhere. A crazed old woman with bad teeth screams (for added creepiness, she's dressed like a little girl). A naked pregnant woman with a large black afro lies on a table ready to give birth. Then we're shown a close up of a pair icy blue eyes, followed by some quick shots of a dagger in motion. What's going on? I haven't the slightest idea. But when all is said and done, everyone, including a naked brunette lying on a bed, are covered in stab wounds. Transported to a country road at night, the sequence ends after a car crashes into a tree. The second the car is about to hit the tree, Jane Harrison (Edwige Fenech) wakes up in her London flat and wanders in a daze towards her London bathroom.
 

 

Just like Winona Ryder's character in Heathers, Jane showers with her clothes on when she's stressed out. And just like Winona Ryder, Edwige Fenech is so gorgeous, it's scary. As you watch Edwige Fenech in the early going of All the Colours of the Dark, you can't help but think: How is it physically possible for someone to be this attractive. I mean, it's unreal. Anyway, her boyfriend, what's this guys name? Oh, yeah, Richard (George Hilton), shows up just in time to comfort her by caressing her naked body and feeding her vitamins.
 

 

Neither seem to work, however, as Jane has the stab dream again. Leaving her flat (a cool art deco apartment complex), Jane is accompanied by her sister Barbara (Nieves Navarro), who, by the way, is the exact same height as Edwige Fenech, to see Dr. Burton (George Rigaud), a shrink; despite Richard's objections (he thinks they're all a bunch of quacks).
 

 

Guess who Jane sees in the waiting room? She sees Ivan Rassimov's blue-eyed dagger enthusiast, that's who. On top of being enthusiastic about daggers, it would seen that he also enjoys lurking and stalking. Wait a minute, did you say he enjoys lurking and stalking? Yes, I think I did. You won't believe this, but I have "enjoys lurking and stalking" listed on my Match.com profile. Except, I have it listed as "stalking and lurking," not "lurking and stalking."
 

 

Of course, Dr. Burton doesn't believe Jane when she tries to tell him that she saw the blue-eyed dagger enthusiast who enjoys lurking and stalking, and stalking and lurking, in the waiting room. But don't worry, Barbara corroborates Jane's story that there was in deed a blue-eyed dagger enthusiast sitting in the waiting room at one point. You should have seen me the moment when Barbara backs up Jane's story, I was all like: In your face, Dr. Burton! You should spend less time leering at Edwige Fenech's fetching knees, and more time listening to your patients problems.
 

 

Though, I have to admit. If you're going to leer at a woman's knees, you can't beat the knees attached to Edwige Fenech. I mean, c'mon. They're fantastic. 
 

 

After being told by Dr. Burton that she is "quite sane," Jane heads down to the subway. Sitting crossed-legged, the exposed leg skin languishing between the bottom of her skirt and the top of her boots no doubt causing many trouser-related irregularities to occur in the London underground that day, Jane can't help but overhear an asinine conversation being conducted by a typical English family. When her car eventually empties out, Jane notices that she and a man in a tan trench coat are the only ones left. No worries, right? Wrong. It's the blue-eyed dagger enthusiast. And every time the lights flicker, he seems to get closer. Realizing that it's only a matter of time before he is sitting on her not yet damp lap, Jane makes a run for it.
 

 

It might seem weird now, but back in the early 1970s lot's of people were joining Satanic cults on a whim. And Jane is no different. When she arrives home after being harassed by the blue-eyed dagger enthusiast, Jane meets Mary (Marina Malfatti), her blonde upstairs neighbour. The two hit it off immediately. While walking through the park, Mary suggests to Jane that she should join the Satanic cult she belongs to–you know, to clear her head. Like I said, nowadays, no-one wants to join a Satanic cult, but Jane seems open to the idea.
 

 

In fact, she's so open, she agrees to attend today's meeting. But first, she's got to get attacked by the blue-eyed dagger enthusiast; it's in her contract. When the attack, complete with crazy editing and the kick ass music of Bruno Nicolai, is over, it's ritual time, baby! You can tell just by looking at him that  Mr. McBrian (Julián Ugarte) is the leader of this particular Satanic cult. How could I tell? Well, for starters, check out his beard. And secondly, the long fingernails and the gaudy, eyeball-centric jewelry are dead giveaways.
 

 

While watching her drink fresh fox blood, and be inundated with many kisses, I think it's safe to say that Jane is now in league with Satan. Will this new allegiance help quell Jane's nightmares? Who's to say? It doesn't, however, mean that the blue-eyed dagger enthusiast is ever going to leave her alone.
 

 

Quick question: Why is Lisa Leonardi credited as "Girl with dog"? Yeah, she's walking a dog. But don't you think "Girl with killer gams" would have been more appropriate? 
 

 

Repeatedly told that, "you belong to us," Jane soon finds out that Satanic cults are easier to join, than they are to unjoin. And not to mention the eyeball triangle tattoo that all the Satanics get is a pain in the ass to remove, especially if you get one on your ass. Dripping style (short skirts and killer production design) and replete with trippy thrills (if you're going to be chased around London by a creepy dude with piercing blue eyes, you can't beat Ivan Rassimov, he rocks), All the Colours of the Dark is so chic it hurts. Great locations, awesome soundtrack, yeah, yeah, there could have been more gore, but Sergio Martino makes stalking seem cool again; not that it ever went out of fashion. A gorgeous leading lady and an effective villain make this Italian giallo worth a look-see.

   

uploaded by braniki1

Special thanks to ido for recommending this chichi film.
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Jungle Holocaust (Ruggero Deodato, 1977)

I've been locked in this cage for days, and I'm starting to lose my mind. And not only that, but fighting over scraps of food with a large tropical bird, being a peed on by small children, and having to listen to the screams emanating from a young man whose bloodied arm is currently being devoured by ants has started to lose its appeal. That's not to say that they ever had any appeal in the first place, I'm just being facetious. Either way, I'm beginning to regret my decision to come to the jungles of the Philippines in search of oil deposits. Naked, dirty, and starving, there's no way this could get any worse. Oh, what's this? An attractive native woman is coming over to my cage. I wonder if I can somehow persuade her to get me some food. Acting out a series of hand gestures that are meant to convey to her that I would like some food, the native woman has instead decides to interpret my gesticulations as an invitation to perform an impromptu handjob on my slumbering cock. The look on my face as she vigorously tugged on my hasn't been erect for days penis must have been priceless. On the one hand, a handjob is something I didn't expect to receive during my stay in the world's worst cannibal-run prison. In other words, it was a pleasant surprise. On the other hand, leave my dick alone, and bring me some chicken wings. What you have just experienced is a new dimension in film criticism. You see, by putting myself in the shoes of the characters, I have found that I am able to understand their motivations more effectively than your typical viewer. And I can't think of a better film to debut this technique than Ruggero Deodato's Jungle Holocaust (a.k.a. Last Cannibal World), The Magnificent Ambersons of jungle set cannibal films.
 

 

Why is this film the perfect vehicle to test drive your newfangled approach to film criticism? Why, that's simple. There's only one character who matters, so our attention isn't diverted by those who would normally vie for our peculiar brand of selective awareness. And get this, he's a male character who's not surrounded by European chicks in lingerie. Yeah, I know. Pretty radical stuff. How on earth were you able to survive an experience that was completely devoid of garter belts? Well, like I was saying, I made a concerted effort to to empathize with Robert Harper (Massimo Foschi), a non-bearded oil company hack who becomes a bearded jungle dweller who eats human livers for breakfast. And I found that by doing that, I was greatly rewarded at the end of the day.

 

 

 

Having watched a number of Italian-made cannibal films recently, I've come to expect a certain level of ghastliness. And don't get me wrong, Jungle Holocaust has plenty of ghastliness. It's just that I wasn't expecting such an artistically inclined piece of cinema. Wait a minute. An artistically inclined cannibal movie? Hey, why not? Take away the animal cruelty, the gut-munching, and the degradation, and what you're left with is one hell of a compelling a jungle adventure film.
 

 

Unlike most cannibal films, Jungle Holocaust doesn't start in New York City. In fact, you'll be hard pressed to find any concrete in this film. Dropped in the jungles on the island of Mindanao almost immediately, as the aforementioned Robert Taylor, his pal Rolf (Ivan Rassimov, Jonas from Eaten Alive!), and their pilot, a whiskey-drinking local named Charlie (Sheik Razak Shikur), and his ladyfriend Swan (Judy Rosly), plan to meet some fellow oil company employees at their camp near a clearing.
 

 

Things begin to go downhill right from the start, as the people who are supposed to greet them don't answer their radio. It could be that the thickness of the jungle is causing their radio to not work properly, but we all know that's not the case. As expected, there's no-one there to greet them when they land. In an ironic twist, the radio they were calling was haphazardly thrown in the middle of the makeshift runway causing the plane to lose one of its wheels. While Charlie puts the wheel back on, and Swan treats the cut on his head, Robert and Rolf do what white people do when they're bored, they wander off into the jungle. It doesn't take long for them to get lost. Luckily, they manage to find their way back to the plane. But not before watching a snake eat a lizard (five minutes in and we've already experienced a bit of animal cruelty), and stumbling upon a rotting human head.
 

 

They might have made back to the plane, but because of their impromptu jungle trek, they're going to have to stay the night. That's right, it's too late for them take off. And you know what that means? I'm sorry, Swan. But you're going to have to be killed first. You're just not that interesting. The following morning, Robert, Rolf, and Charlie go searching for Swan (she could be alive...yeah, right). Again, you know what that means? I'm afraid you're going to die, Charlie. The genre is about white people in peril, and since you're not white, I predict a large ball covered with spikes in your future. And that future is now. Splat!
 

 

If you thought stumbling upon a rotting human head was nasty, wait until you stumble upon a group cannibals eating a freshly killed Swan. And I'm not talking about a large waterfowl, I'm talking about a human being whose name happens to be Swan. We get it, they're eating her, and when they're done, they're probably gonna eat Charlie. And when they're finished devouring his body, they will most likely turn to their attention to Robert and Rolf. I don't know about you, but if I were them, I would start building a raft, and get as far away the from this place as humanly possible. Taking my advice, they do just that. Unfortunately, their raft isn't really equipped to handle rapids. Don't get me wrong, it's an awesome raft. It's just that the rapids were too intense. When the raft flips over, Robert and Rolf are thrown into the water. Struggling to make it ashore, a wet Robert scans the river for Rolf, but there's no sign of him. Hungry, Robert decides to eat some wild mushrooms. Big mistake. After vomiting for a little while, Robert eventually passes out.
 

 

When he wakes up, he's surrounded by a bunch of long-haired cannibals wielding spears. Dragging him to their cave city, Robert is tied to a giant rock. As the cannibals are tearing his clothes off, I thought to myself: Why aren't they ripping off his black underpants? Then it dawned on me, Massimo Foschi doesn't want to be naked for the rest of the movie, and asked Ruggero Deodato if he could keep his black underpants on. But why wouldn't the cannibals remove all his clothing? As this was dawning on me, a female cannibal (Me Me Lai, Eaten Alive!) suddenly appears from behind another giant rock, and slowly approaches Robert. Pawing at his black underpants, Me Me Lai eventually rips them off. While his black underpants were being ripped from their corporeal moorings, I was bouncing up and down like a cock-starved maniac.
 

 

The moment his genitals are finally free to bob and weave the way nature intended, a sense of relief washed over me. Kudos to Massimo Foschi for going that extra mile for the sake of art. Your nakedness added about five extra coats of realism to this movie. At any rate, after the cannibals have finished tugging on his junk, they swing Robert from the rafters of their cave. Why are they are doing this, you ask? Well, they think he's bird (remember, he arrived in the jungle via an airplane). 
 

 

Ultimately, he's locked in a cage with a hornbill and an eagle (like I said, they think he's a bird). I don't what's worse, getting peed on while thirsty or receiving a handjob while hungry. Yeah, that's a tough one. You would think being peed on would be worse; it's pee! But I'll take a sandwich over a handjob any day of the week. Are you sure about that? It's a Me Me Lai directed handjob. Interesting point. Can't I have a sandwich and a handjob? I could eat the sandwich using my hands (hands are an excellent thing to have, as they make sandwich eating so much easier), and Me Me Lai could use her hands to give me a handjob. No, I'm afraid it doesn't work that way. Aw, man. That sucks ass. Don't look now, but some cannibal kids are about start throwing rocks at you.
 

 

You what the cannibals use birds for? They use them to catch crocodiles: the cannibals' mortal enemy. Remember the turtle torture scene Cannibal Ferox? Well, I think the crocodile dismemberment scene in Jungle Holocaust is the most egregious example of animal cruelty I have ever witnessed in a motion picture. That being said, since the cannibals use birds to catch crocodiles, and  Roberts decides that he's had enough with being peed on and receiving untimely handjobs, and starts planning his escape. 
 

 

It's true, Massimo Foschi's constant nakedness helped give his performance an added air of authenticity. However, it was his willingness to get dirty that alleviated the movie to the level of high art. In fact, you really get the sense that Massimo is in actual mortal danger throughout the film. You can see it on his face, as his character gradually adapts to his surroundings. I'd go as far as to say that without Massimo Foschi's fearless performance, the film wouldn't have had the same impact. All you would have had was a series of scenes featuring animals being tortured and the occasional shot of the locals (in black bob wigs) eating human flesh. And at the end of the day, all jungle set cannibal movies have those things.

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Eaten Alive! (Umberto Lenzi, 1980)

You know how Tough Actin'® Tinactin® provides fungus-related relief to millions of Americans? Well, the same can be said for blow-gun darts dipped in cobra venom. Except, blow-gun darts dipped in cobra venom are not, I repeat, not, going to ease your athlete's foot, jock itch, or ringworm. What it will do, however, is attack your central nervous system, cause respiratory failure, and ultimately lead to your untimely demise. Call me crazy, but Tough Actin'® Tinactin® and blow-gun darts dipped in cobra venom seem to have nothing in common. You're right, they don't. You know what? Let's just pretend that didn't happen, shall we? A quick show of hands, who here is excited to watch yet another film that features real animal cruelty, simulated cannibalism, outdoor rape and indoor castration? Judging by the lack of hands being raised, I'm gonna assume no-one is. Which is a shame, because I've slowly become enamoured with Italian-made cannibal exploitation films. Don't get me wrong, I despise them with a fiery passion. But for some strange reason, I can't look away. Which is odd because Eaten Alive! (a.k.a. Mangiati Vivi!) is filled with instances where looking in the opposite direction is probably the correct course of action. Hell, even the characters that populate this cruel universe think looking away is the right thing do. In fact, one of them punches the other in the face (knocking them out cold) in order to shield their eyes from a particular bit of ghastliness. Enough with the hand wringing, deep down (yeah, yeah, "trauma hounds - run to corrode," we get it, you like Skinny Puppy) you love these movies. How do you know I love them? I didn't want to bring this up, but I've watched you browse the bins of your local video emporium, and I've noticed that you always seem to go straight to the cannibal section. Damn, you got me. You win this round, voice in my head.
 

 

You know how Tough Actin'® Tinactin® provides...Just kidding. Quick question. Yeah, hi. I couldn't help but overhear you say that this film, directed, of course, by Umberto Lenzi (Cannibal Ferox),  features "indoor castration," and was wondering: Does the inside of cave constitute as being "indoors"? Wow, that is an excellent question. I'm gonna say, yes, it does constitute as indoors. Any structure, whether it be a makeshift shelter in the woods or an imposing castle sitting on top of a hill, is technically a building. And like all buildings, there's an inside and an outside. And the castration scene in Eaten Alive! definitely takes place inside as supposed to outside. Anyway, I hope that clears things up.
 

 

I have a question of my own: Is this the first cannibal film to sport an opening sequence that takes place in Niagara Falls, Canada? I'm going to go out on a limb and say, yes, it's probably the first. I only ask because the sight of all that snow and ice threw me for a bit of a loop. I mean, for a minute there I thought I'd put in the wrong movie. That thought quickly evaporates, however, when a balding white man is shot in the neck by an ambiguously Asian man wielding a blow-gun. While the trip to Niagara Falls was somewhat jarring, the next scene brought me back to my comfort zone, as we hit the streets of New York City. Like Niagara Falls, the weather is snowy and cold; hence, the ridiculous fur coat worn by a blonde man who is shot in the chest by a, yeah, yeah, an ambiguously Asian man wielding a blow-gun. Just in case some people in the audience are having trouble connecting the two slayings, another man, this time a balding white man in a trench coat, is shot in the neck in front of a man dressed as Santa Claus.
 

 

What do these killings have in common? Frankly, I couldn't careless. That's funny, you strike me as the kind of person who usually cares a lot about these sort of things. Oh, don't get me wrong, I care. You could even say that I give a fuck. It's just that Janet Agren is about to start strutting her stuff down 42nd Street, and I don't want to have to worry about the  plot-based machinations of some cannibal flick. It's not that I find her attractive or anything like that (her cheekbones are stupid), I'm mainly excited to watch a blonde woman in a fur coat (unlike the blonde guy shot in the chest with a dart dipped in cobra venom, Janet looks chic in fur) walk up and down 42nd Street at a time when it was a seedy paradise.
 

 

Since the 42nd Street of today looks like a corporate cesspool, someone should open a museum dedicated to 42nd Street as it was during its heyday as a sleaze mecca.
 

 

Removing her fur coat to reveal a busy sweater (it's mostly red with black around the neck, but the left shoulder features red, white, and pink stripes), Sheila Morris (Janet Agren) sits down at the detectives desk, and is told that her missing sister, Diana Morris (Paola Senatore), might be connected to the recent spell of bizarre blow-gun murders.
 

 

It would seem that her sister has gotten herself mixed up with a purification sect. A purification what? Yeah, it's this sect who apparently worship the environment. I know, what a bunch of wackos. Actually, as the police describe Jonas (Ivan Rassimov), the charismatic leader of this particular sect, and his group's beliefs, I found myself agreeing with everything they stood for. Of course, I'm not saying I would hop on the next Pakistani Airlines flight to New Guinea to join up with these so-called "nutjobs," I just thought it was odd that what was once considered radical is now the norm. I love the look of horror on Sheila's face when the F.B.I. agent tells her that the sect are against pollution.
 

 

After talking with Professor Mel Ferrer (the name of his character is not important) about New Guinea, Sheila is on her way. Unable to transverse the harsh wilderness by herself (she's just a simple country girl from Alabama), Sheila picks out her guide. Only problem is, her potential guide, a whiskey-loving expatriate American named Mark Butler (Robert Kerman), doesn't really want to guide her anywhere at this juncture. And why would he? He gets by on the money her makes on the local backroom arm wrestling circuit (you know it's a legit arm wrestling league just by looking at the yellow headbands the competitors wear). Desperate, Sheila offers Mark, who's still busy implementing the "your problems are not my problem" routine, a ton of cash. After mulling it over for about five seconds, Mark agrees to take her to the village where Diana was last seen.
 

 

As they're paddling down the river, Mark, Sheila, and their two native guides, spot a monkey about to be devoured by a giant python. Also known as: the monkey with its head in the mouth a giant python scene, this infamous scene is hard to watch. Poor monkey, its agonizing final moments are captured on film forever. The look on its little face as it fruitlessly tries to prevent itself from being eaten was heartbreaking. But as Mark tells a visibly shaken Sheila, "You'll see worse before this is over." And you know what? I believe him. 
 

 

As expected, Mark and Sheila soon find themselves "up shit's creek without a paddle." In addition, one native guide is eaten by a crocodile and the other is killed by an unknown assailant. You know who else is killed? A native woman wearing a pink shawl. Well, actually, first she was raped, then she was killed. As the cannibals are dining on her entrails, Mark and Sheila stumble upon their unorthodox feast. Don't worry, though, the cannibals didn't spot them (Mark is able to stifle Sheila's gasp in the nick of time). Nevertheless, the area is swarming with cannibals.
 

 

Luckily, a reasonable fellow named Karen (Franco Caduti) and his merry band of Jonas-affiliated henchmen (you could call 'em The Jonas Brothers) find them first. To be honest, I don't know what's worse, being eaten alive by cannibals or being forced to listen to the mumbo-jumbo that spews from Jonas' mouth on a regular basis. In case you forgot, Jonas is the leader of Purification Village (come for the hallucinogenic Hawaiian punch, stay for the dildos dipped in cobra blood). After being brought before Jonas by Karen and the Paul Rudd-esque Dick (Carlo Longhi), Jonas' right-hand man, Mark and Sheila spot Diana while attending the funeral of one of the sect members.
 

 

What's interesting about the funeral sequence, besides the fact that Dick gives Mark a play-by-play of what is going on, is that Mowara (Me Me Lai), the widow, is forced to have no-nonsense sexual intercourse on her husband's ashes with her brother-in-laws in front of the entire village. Oh, and just in case you're wondering, all three men choose to employ the missionary position. It's true, the third brother-in-law lifts Mowara up slightly  in order to gain penetration leverage. But the fact that his humping style was somewhat different than his brothers indicated to me that he simply wanted his thrusts to stand out from the crowd.
 

 

We soon learn that Diana is not happy being a sect member. While that's great news and all, but how do you expect Mark and Sheila to bust Diana out when you take in account that the village is surrounded by cannibals. In other words, the choice is simple: You can remain with the purification sect or take your chances with the bloodthirsty cannibals.
 

 

One man whose had enough with both is Mark Butler, as he just wants to drink whiskey and count his money. An anti-hero in every sense of the word, Robert Kerman brings a take no guff righteousness to the grisly proceedings. Getting the better of every cannibal and henchman that crosses his path, I wouldn't mind seeing Mark Butler go up against Giovanni Radice Lombardo's Mike Logan from Cannibal Ferox in a contest to prove who's the bigger jungle badass. Of course, Mark would probably destroy Mike rather easily (Mike is only tough when his adversaries are tied to trees), but I still would like to see them go at it.
 

 

Special kudos need to go to Paola Senatore (Emanuelle in America) for her ballsy work during the film's gruesome final third. Now, I don't want to say what exactly happens to her. But let's just say, it makes the monkey scene look tame. Which is saying something since that monkey's head was actually inside a snake's mouth.
 

 

Oh, and forget using cyanide to wipe out your crazy religious cult. Try cobra venom. It's quick, relatively painless, and it's all natural. Cobra venom, the choice of a brainwashed generation.

nsfw video uploaded by r0l00L