The Girl from Rio (Jess Franco, 1969)

I'm no military tactician, but I have a feeling more thought was put into what the sentries guarding Femina: The City of Women should wear than anything else. Are you sure about that? Oh, I'm sure. All you have to do is take one look at their outfits to realize that fashion was probably their number one priority. True, they were, as far as sentries go, pretty fucking chic. However, I think we can all agree that their training when it came it to hand-to-hand combat and marksmanship was probably lackluster at best. Their ability to seduce unsuspecting men to do their bidding is second to none. But can they successfully repel a lightly armed force? Judging by the pathetic display I witnessed at the end of Jess Franco's The Girl from Rio (a.k.a. Die sieben Männer der Sumuru), I'm going to say, no, they cannot. And, of course, none of the blame for the fiasco/climactic battle that ends this film, one that sees the fashion forward sentries of Femina: The City of Women take on five, maybe six, non-combat helicopters filled with thugs who work for an aging gangster, should be placed on the overstuffed shoulders of the sentries themselves. No, the person is responsible for this debacle is their ruthless leader. If she had spent a little less time lounging in mesh body stockings, and a little more time building, oh, let's say, guard towers, her loyal army of warrior women might have stood have a chance against a daytime aerial assault. I'm telling you, put a couple of well-placed heavy machine guns around Femina: The City of Women, and they could have blown those pesky helicopters out of the sky. Unfortunately, my being a man-like creature, Sumuru (Shirley Eaton), the leader of the aforementioned army of warrior women, would have most likely ignored my advice. And not only that, she would have almost certainly thrown me into one of those glass cages for daring to assume she doesn't how defend her womanly compound.
 

 

It's too bad Sumuru's hatred of men has clouded her ability to jump to sensible conclusions, because I was totally down with her cause. The first thing I would have done was, tell the sentries to not stand facing the wall while on guard duty. Think about it, when you face the wall, it makes it a lot easier for your enemies to sneak up on you. Try standing with your back against the wall. I guarantee that you will notice a pronounced improvement in your field of vision the second you turn around.
 

 

Yeah, I know, Sumuru will tell you that standing with your face toward the wall makes you look edgy and cool. But I have to ask you this, what would you rather be, edgy and cool or dead and stupid? If you said the former, I'm afraid there's little hope for you. If, however, you're a fan of being alive, I think you will find that I have a lot of wisdom to impart when it comes to managing the security of a feminist stronghold.
 

 

Someone who should never face a wall is Yana Yuma (Beni Cardoso), the wide-eyed sidekick of Sumuru (Shirley Eaton), the self-proclaimed mayor of Femina: The City of Women. The only reason I'm mentioning Yana Yuma before Sumuru in this paragraph is because Yana Yuma does the majority of the erotic heavy-lifting in the film's opening scene.
 

 

And speaking as a person who previously only knew Beni Cardoso as one of the demented redheads from Barbed Wire Dolls, this is a surprising turn of events. You see, Beni's character in Barbed Wire Dolls, also directed by Jess Franco, is so insane, that it hampered my ability to properly gauge her legginess.
 

 

Since when has a woman's mental well-being stopped you from evaluating their legginess? It doesn't usually. But the level crazy of Beni was putting out there was so intense, that everything, including gam appreciation, seemed to fall by the wayside.
 

 

Well, don't worry, Beni Cardoso's Yana Yuma, while still not quite playing with a full deck, is the perfect candidate to receive my special brand of glaze, I mean, praise, my special brand of praise.
 

 

Anyway, as Sumuru watched Yana Yuma, who is wearing a black mesh dress, toy with some shirtless asshole in a smoke-filled environment, I couldn't help but think how much better this film would have been had Sumuru been played by Lina or Soledad. What are you talking about? The film has just started. Nah, I can tell by the way Shirley Eaton was sheepishly not taking part in the murder of the shirtless asshole guy that she's not fully committed to the role. Seriously, she just stands there as Yana Yuma does all the work.
 

 

Meanwhile in Rio, a rich Playboy named Jeff Sutton (Richard Wyler) is checking in to a hotel. You'll notice as he's doing so that he is being watched by a shady fella named Carl (Herbert Fleischmann), who works for Sir Masius (George Saunders), a mob boss of some kind.
 

 

You also might have noticed that Sir Masius' girlfriend, Irene (Elisa Montés), looks amazing in a bikini. Don't be fooled, though. She may act like your typical gangster's moll, but she is actually Sir Masius' income tax adviser. While most women who happen to be dating criminals spend the bulk of the day grinding their shapely butts into the laps of their thuggish boyfriends, Irene, who, mind you, does her fair share of lap grinding, can usually be found bookkeeping. Of course, she always cooks the books, as they say, while sitting in a manner that can best be described as leggy. This is, after all, a Jess Franco film; a cinematic wonderland where everything is done in a leggy manner or your money back.
 

 

Speaking of which, it's time for a brunette Maria Rohm to make her leggy presence felt. And she does so while giving Jeff Sutton a manicure in his hotel room. Sitting with her legs crossed, Maria, who plays a woman named Leslye, notices that Jeff has put his hand on her knee. If I tried a move like that, I would be shunned by society; shunned, I tell you. But since this Jeff pratt exudes charm and douche-adjacent elegance, he's got himself a date with a leggy Maria Rohm. It's not fair.
 

 

Welcome to Femina: The City of Women. A magical place where naked midriffs rule the roost. Where pantyhose-adorned undercarriages grow on trees. The city voted the red cape capital of Brazil for the third year running by Red Cape Magazine. And the best place to find affordable cunnilingus for all you lesbians on a budget. I don't care if men aren't welcome (a misandric speech given by Sumuru during our initial tour makes that all too clear), I want to live in Femina: The City of Women.   
 

 

It's morning, and after a long night of partying (Brazilian style!), Jeff and Leslye decide to take a stroll. (Keep an eye out for Jess Franco as the guitar player during their early morning jaunt.) Remember Carl? That's right, the shady fella who was spying on Jeff as he arrived in Rio. Yeah, well, he does what all good henchman do, he sicks a bunch of lesser henchman on Jeff and Leslye, disrupting the tranquility of their stroll.
 

 

The cool thing about Carl's lesser henchmen is that they all wear creepy masks and carry switchblades. On the downside, their fighting skills were a tad lacking in the being good department, and Jeff and Leslye have little trouble thwarting their pathetic attempt to harm them. 
 

 

How do we know Maria Rohm puts her red stockings on one red stocking at a time?  Show us, Jess. Show us how Maria Rohm puts her red stockings on. And wouldn't you know it. He does show us. I love you, Jess Franco. As Maria Rohm started to put on her second red stocking, it dawned on me that Jeff and Leslyse are discussing something plot-related.
 

 

I thought I might have heard something about ten million dollars in stolen money. But like I said, Maria Rohm is putting on red stockings when I heard this, so I can't be 100% sure what was actually said during this scene. I guess I could watch the scene again. However, I have a strong feeling that the results will be exactly the same.
 

 

Pairing her red stockings with a flashy mini-dress (the kind that cause the tops of her red stockings to appear every time she shrugs her shoulders), Leslye accompanies Jeff to the airport. If you thought Carl and his lesser henchman were going to give up trying to apprehend Jeff (it's clear they want the ten million dollars he purportedly has stashed away somewhere), you're sorely mistaken. Even though he's separated from Leslye during the kerfulle with the lesser henchmen, Jeff manages to escape aboard a plane filled with women in matching capes.
 

 

Wait, did you say, "matching capes"? Yeah, so. Don't you read Red Cape Magazine? These women are from Femina: The City of Women. And last time I checked, men, especially those who wear their cocks on their crotches, aren't welcome there.
 

 

Waking up, as most men do after they arrive in Femina: The City of Women, tied to a slab while a leggy Yana Yuma stands over you in a menacing yet still leggy fashion, Jeff finds himself to be a "guest" of Brazil's most elusive all-female society. While it's obvious her hatred of men is sincere, you wouldn't know it judging by the way Sumuru, who is wearing a black body stocking (one with feathery flourishes around the wrists and ankles), wraps her legs around Jeff's midsection. Oh, and if you're wondering what happened to Leslye, she was captured by Sir Masius and is currently being tortured pool side by his lesser henchmen.
 

 

In the grand tradition of spy flicks, whether they be campy on purpose or campy by accident, the villain of the piece gives the film's hero a tour of their headquarters and a detailed explanation about their dastardly plans. Which, of course, involve ruling the world. You have to remember, most men were fearful of the women's movement of the 1960s, and this fear seeped into pop culture in the form of movies like, The Girl from Rio -- you know, one's where women try to take over the world.
 

 

At any rate, it's during Jeff's tour of Femina: The City of Women that I noticed all the vulnerabilities in city's defenses. Instead of teaching her soldiers to be irresistible to men (an actual class taught in Femina), Sumuru should have brought in a drill instructor. And, yes, I'm sure they could find a female drill instructor listed in the Brazilian Yellow Pages.
 

 

When the tour/explanation is over, Jeff is locked in a glass box along with Ulla Rossini (Marta Reves), the daughter of some rich dude, and a bunch of other unfortunate souls.
 

 

Will Jeff be able to withstand the psychosexual torture Sumuru has in store for him? Who cares. What I want to know is, what colour, if any, are the panties Yana Yuma is wearing underneath that silver cape she wears. I mean, all that it would take is a mild breeze for us to find out.
 

 

What I really want to know is, when did Elisa Montés find the time change from black fishnet pantyhose into mauve sparkly pantyhose? As it doesn't seem like she had enough time to change. I guess that will have to remain one of those mystery thingies. Nonetheless, when the helicopter attack I alluded to earlier finally gets underway, you can tell that the production was getting low on cash. And it's no wonder, as most of the money was clearly spent on stockings and pantyhose. While Jess Franco regulars, Maria Rohm, Elisa Montés, Valentina Godoy (she plays one of Sumuru's elite guards), and Beni Cardoso all seemed at ease, it's obvious that Shirley Eaton and Richard Wyler aren't quite Jess Franco material. It doesn't take too much away from the film, but I prefer it when all the performers are fully-committed to Jess Franco's vision.

Eugenie (Jess Franco, 1970)

Just when I thought I had seen it all, along comes Maria Rohm in Eugenie...the story of her journey into perversion, Jess Franco and Harry Towers' adaptation of  Marquis de Sade's "La Philosophie dans le boudoir." Wait, you've seen Maria Rohm in plenty of Jess Franco films. What's so special about her appearance in this one? Are you ready? She doesn't wear pants. Well, that was a bit of a letdown. Whatever do you mean? Name a Jess Franco film where the Austrian actress does wear pants. No, you're not listening to me. I'm not implying that Maria Rohm doesn't wear pants when she's bathing or having sex with her stepbrother, I mean she hardly ever wears pants. And even when she does wear pants, she's not wearing pants. Okay, now that doesn't make a lick of sense. Again, you're not listening to me. There's a scene in this movie where Maria Rohm, in all her chic glory, can be seen wearing black pantyhose as if they were pants. You're joking, right? She must have at least had panties on? No, I checked. Repeatedly, in fact. And she did not have any panties on. All right, how 'bout a super-short short skirt, maybe you couldn't see it? Have you lost your mind? I mean, seriously. Do I look like the kind of person who would not notice if Maria Rohm was wearing a super-short short skirt in a Jess Franco film? So, what your saying is, Maria Rohm wears pantyhose–black pantyhose, she was wearing black pantyhose–right, black pantyhose, in the middle of the day as if they were pants? That's exactly what I'm saying. Whoa! I have to ask: How are the contents of your brain still intact after watching this righteous display? Think about it. Technically, your head should have exploded the moment you saw Maria Rohm wearing black pantyhose as if they were pants. Yet, here you are, typing words and carrying on like your usual self.
 

 

You think this is usual? Far from it. The sight of Maria Rohm's flagrant disregard for fashion orthodoxy shook me to the core. Even though quite a sizable chunk of time has passed since I watched this film, I still find myself unable to wrap my brain around her decision to openly mock society's rules and regulations that dictate proper pantyhose etiquette.
 

 

Didn't you find it strange that Maria Rohm decided to wear a crocheted poncho and a sombrero with her black pantyhose? Yes, I did find that strange. Which reminds me, are you sure the poncho wasn't a dress? You know, like a shirt-dress? Nah, I don't think it was long enough. Maybe it was supposed to be that short. After all, it was era of the non-existent hemline. Yeah, but, I could see her pussy. Sure, the nylon fabric was pressing tightly against it with the force of six tornadoes, but you could tell it [her pussy] was there. You're right, I could see her pussy, too. Well, it was worth a shot.
 

 

As you were going on about Maria Rohm's bold fashion statement, I was busy trying to figure out a way to steer this review into less perverted waters. And you know what, to quote Sulu from Star Trek, "the helm is sluggish." I know how to snap myself out of this Maria Rohm-themed pantyhose funk, mention the fact the film opens with a leggy Maria Rohm lounging in a manner that could be construed as leggy. I thought you just said you wanted to steer this review into less perverted waters? Yeah, and I said the helm was sluggish. Meaning, I've lost control of the ship. Besides, the film's opening leggy salvo features legs that are unadorned. So, yes, I'm still in pervert mode. But at least I've strayed into less nylon-obsessed territory.
 

 

Anyway, Maria Rohm plays Madame Saint Ange, a leggy aristocratic who enjoys sunbathing, toying with her guitar-playing gardener/boatman, Augustin (Anney Kaplan), diaphanous clothing, sado-masochism, and corrupting minors. Reading a book by Marquis de Sade, Madame Saint Ange envisions herself at a ritualistic murder, one that involves organ eating, in an environment that can best be described as dungeon-like. (Keep an eye out for Jess Franco as one of the creepy on-lookers.) Hosted by the ultra-suave Dolmance (Christopher Lee), the party, if you can call it that, features chanting, men in mitres, men wearing nylons over their heads ("We are Devo"), and a live reading from one the Marquis de Sade's works by none other than Christopher Lee. 
 

 

Anyone remember the Art of Noise song called "Legs"? Well, every time Maria Rohm would appear onscreen in the early going of Eugenie, I would yell out, "Legs!!!"
 

 

Speaking of Eugenie and legs, we're introduced to Eugenie (Marie Liljedahl), a thigh-licious teen who just got off the phone with Madame Saint Ange. How does Eugenie know Madame Saint Ange? I mean, except for the fact that both of them have fantastic legs, they don't seem to have much in common. Either way, they know each other, much to her mother's chagrin. Wearing a short red dress, Eugenie, after rebuffing her mother's request to tell her who she was talking on the phone with, retreats to her room to act leggy while staring at Madame Saint Ange's picture.
 

 

Just in case we had any doubts as to the validity of Eugenie's legginess, Jess Franco provides us with ample evidence when he employs a not-so subtle leg pan.
 

 

Call me paranoid, but the fact that Jess Franco regular Paul Muller plays Eugenie's father does not bode well for the naive little scamp. And wouldn't you know it, my paranoia is well-founded as we see that Paul Muller is meeting Madame Saint Ange at a swanky hotel. You don't know what they're up to. Oh, I know what they're up to. And it's not just sex; Madame Saint Ange, by the way, is wearing a brown leather skirt (with a matching vest) and black fishnet pantyhose. No, there's something sinister going on, and it probably involves the spiritual well-being of Eugenie.
 

 

What kind of parent would allow their teenage daughter to spend the weekend on a remote island that belongs to Madame Saint Ange and Mirvel (Jack Taylor), her deranged stepbrother? Well, it's obvious that Paul Muller is that kind of parent, because Augustine is currently ferrying Eugenie to the island as we speak.
 

 

I would have loved to have been there when Madame Saint Ange decided to wear black pantyhose as if they were pants, a white crocheted poncho, a sombrero, white sunglasses and a pair of jewel-encrusted pumps on the day Eugenie arrives at her not-so humble abode.
 

 

Upon further inspection, and then after another inspection, one that, if you can believe it, went farther, inspection-wise, than the previous inspection, I came to the conclusion that the iconic black pantyhose/poncho/sombrero ensemble Maria Rohm wears in Eugenie wasn't as radical as I first thought. If you look closely, you'll notice that the frayed material dangling from the front and back of her poncho does provide her cunt and anus a modicum of coverage. It's just that the outfit can turn impractical in an instant whenever a stiff breeze occurs or when the wearer engages in some impromptu arm lifting.
 

 

You know, I can see how a stiff breeze might upset the structural harmony of Maria Rohm's poncho (the island is known for its breeziness). But impromptu arm lifting? I don't see that happening often. What I mean is, the character she is playing doesn't seem like the type of person who does much arm lifting throughout the day. Oh, really? Well then, how do you suppose she goes about beating Eugenie with a leather strap? I mean, have you ever tried to beat someone with a leather strap without lifting your arms? If you haven't, I'll tell you, it's damned near impossible.
 

 

Why would anyone want to beat Eugenie with a leather strap? She's so soft, so innocent. The question you really should be asking yourself is, why wouldn't anyone want to beat Eugenie with a leather strap? I can't believe I just said that out loud. In my defense, I'm simply trying to understand the mindset of Madame Saint Ange and his Marquis de Sade worshiping stepbrother (when he's not reading aloud from the works of the Marquis de Sade, he entertains himself by opening and closing the blinds in a semi-menacing manner).
 

 

Believe or not, they haven't invited Eugenie to spend the weekend with them in order to take baths together (Marie Liljedahl's Swedish bum is so freaking ebullient in its post-bath state) or smoke Turkish cigarettes while wearing expensive frocks, they have sinister plans for Eugenie. And they can be summed up by the three words: Education. Corruption. Destruction.
 

 

Whips, chains, dandies in frilly shirts, the music of Bruno Nicolai (the music cue just before Maria Rohm gets freaky with a ball and chain was awesome), Christopher Lee in a red smoking jacket; it's quite the scene, man. And the thing is, Madame Saint Ange and Mirval have somehow convinced Eugenie that all the terrible things that have happened to her have occurred not in reality, but in a dream.
 

 

How many times can Madame Saint Ange and Mirval get away with all this before Eugenie gets wise? I don't want say, but you should expect to see Marie Lijledahl running naked across sand dunes, Lina Romay in Macumba Sexual-style, before all is said and done. I know, Marie Liljedahl ran naked across sand dunes before Lina Romay did (Lina didn't do it until the early 1980s), but I saw Lina do it first. Anyway, do you like leggy Euro-babes? What am I saying? Of course you do. Then make sure to check out Eugenie, not to be confused with Eugenie de Sade (which is just as leg-friendly), it'll blow your freaking mind.

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99 Women (Jess Franco, 1969)

Timing it so that when the new prisoners (a.k.a. "the new fish") are brought in, it's the first thing they see, Rosalba Neri makes sure they get an eyeful of her reclining in her black stay-up stockings. It's obvious that Zoe (Rosalba Neri) knows exactly what she's doing. Fiddling with the tops of her stockings the same way a car mechanic fiddles with an engine, Rosalba Neri has powerful stems, and it's clear from the get-go that she isn't afraid to wield them in a manner that will help her curry favour with others. When incarcerated in a prison located on an island off the coast of Panama, some people use their wits to survive, others use brute force. Well, I got news for you, honey, Rosalba Neri, a.k.a. Prisoner #76, uses her gams. You would be surprised how much one can get done when you own a shapely pair of Italian legs. Who needs cigarettes when you've got legs for miles. If you think it's strange that I've mentioned Rosalba Neri four, wait, make that, five times, even though I have yet to mention the name of the film, you clearly have no idea who you're dealing with. To not open with a bit on Rosalba Neri's stocking-encased legs as they appear in 99 Women, the Jess Franco (R.I.P.) movie that became the blueprint for almost every women in prison flick that followed it, would be an act of pure dishonesty. Staring me square in the face at all times, to not comment on the full-court leg show Rosalba Neri puts on in this film would be a tell tale sign that I have completely lost my mind. And, as you can plainly see, judging by the content of some of the words I've assembled so far, my mind is not even close to being lost. In fact, you could say, my mind is sharper than its ever been. And to think, I have Rosalba Neri, and her scrumptious calves, her smooth thighs, her pert feet, and, not to mention, her sturdy knees, to thank for keeping my mind in tip-top shape. 
 

 

After Bruno Nicolai's "The Day I Was Born" has finished being awesome on the soundtrack, and the new prisoners have been processed, Rosalba Neri's Zoe greets Helga, a.k.a. Prisoner #97 (Elisa Montés), who shows up dressed like a Las Vegas showgirl, Natalie Mendoza, a.k.a. Prisoner #98 (Luciana Paluzzi), a heroin addict in a red sweater, and Marie, a.k.a. Prisoner #99 (Maria Rohm), a naive blonde, by taunting them with her sturdy, black stocking-covered legs.   
 

 

Her legs dangling seductively from a drab, oversize, blueish work shirt, Rosalba Neri tells them, "Welcome to the club," while boasting a catty smile. Adjusting the makeshift ties that keep her stockings up as the new fish find their bunks, it's obvious that Rosalba Neri enjoys her stockings just as much as I enjoy writing about them.
 

 

You have to wonder, though, why does Rosalba Neri get to wear stockings? I mean, Helga enters the prison, which has been nicknamed "The Castle of Death," wearing a pair of showgirl issue fishnet pantyhose, yet you don't see her wearing them after she's been processed. Her legs are just as unadorned as everyone else who is not named Rosalba Neri. Why is that? What is so special about Rosalba Neri? You kidding, right? Oh, I know, she's gorgeous beyond belief. Yeah, but, Thelma Diaz (Mercedes McCambridge), the prison's sappho-aligned superintendent, doesn't seem like she's the kind of person who would allow such rules to be violated. And it's obvious that this prison has a strict dress code.
 

 

In fact, violating the dress code is the sort of thing that would land you in one of the prison's infamous "punishment cells."
 

 

Are Thelma Diaz and Rosalba Neri's character super-secret lovers? Maybe. The superintendent does seem to go easy on her. No, think about it. Even though Rosalba Neri is caught fighting on several occasions, I don't ever recall seeing her in one of the punishment cells. Good point. But did it ever occur to you that Thelma just wants, like any sane individual, to see Rosalba Neri's wheels sheathed black nylons around the clock?
 

 

After all, Rosalba Neri was the hottest stripper in the underground lesbian bar scene. In other words, dykes dig her. Interesting. What's interesting? Nothing. No, c'mon. Tell us. Okay, I couldn't help but notice that you used the past tense when describing Rosalba Neri's time as a stripper. Right. Well, for one thing, she's currently in prison. But even if she wasn't, in prison, that is, I don't think she would doing much stripping at bars that cater to discerning lesbians. You see, we learn, via flashback, that Rosalba Neri worked at as a stripper at an underground lesbian bar. You already mentioned that. Oh, yeah. The woman who hires her, a sophisticated lesbian named Grace, is pissed that Rosalba Neri plans to marry her boyfriend.
 

 

Angry that Rosalba Neri is about to waste her hotness, and, not to mention, her first-rate stems, on some heterosexual man with a penis, Grace confronts her with a gun.
 

 

As we soon find out, Rosalba Neri is not someone to be trifled with. A struggle ensues, and, after one thing leads to another, the gun goes off, and just like that, Rosalba Neri finds herself in a drab work shirt with the number seventy-six written on it.
 

 

The great thing about the Rosalba Neri flashback sequence is that it's quite lengthy (it fleshes her character out more than all the other cast members combined), and it wonderfully showcases her beauty in a non-prison environment. Seriously, if you thought Rosalba Neri looked good in a drab work shirt and black hold-up stockings, you should see the candlelight stripetease number she performs for a small gathering of lesbians; it's out of sight.
 

 

If I wasn't convinced that Rosalba Neri was leggy cognizant before the stocking flaunting scene, the scene where she shows Marie her leg in a boastful fashion sealed the deal for me. Recovering from the injuries she suffered in a fight (one that Helga totally started) in the prison's infirmary, Rosabla Neri, who seems to have hurt her left leg during the melee, hovers menacingly over Marie, who is crying in her bed.
 

 

Telling her, well, telling her first to, "shut up," Rosalba Neri then says, "You hurt my leg. My beautiful leg." And as she is saying the second part, she extends the damaged gam (revealing the full force of its gammage) and mock gestures towards it like it were a new car waiting to be won on The Price Is Right.
 

 

It should go without saying, but Rosalba Neri's ostentatious leg display in the infirmary scene is probably one of the greatest leg moments in film history. And the fact she is still wearing a stocking on her uninjured leg makes it even greater.
 

 

Struggle, straddle. Straddle, struggle. Light jazz. Rinse and repeat.
 

 

In a veiled attempt to make this look like a legitimate movie review, here's bit about the film's plot: The prison's stern superintendent, Thelma Diaz, is being evaluated by an idealistic woman named Leonie Carroll (Maria Schell), a young up-and-comer in the cut-throat world of women's corrections. Dismayed by Thelma's harsh treatment of the prisoners, Miss Carroll tries to placate her harshness with a softer, more humane approach to incarceration. While these two butt heads with one another over their respective rehabilitation techniques, the island's governor, Governor Santos (Herbert Lom), is mainly concerned with satisfying his carnal lust.
 

 

To the surprise of virtually no-one, Miss Carroll's kid gloves approach fails miserably, as Marie, Helga, and Rosalie (Valentina Godoy), a short-haired redhead with a wonderfully round bum, flee into the jungle when no-one is looking. And why was no-one looking, you ask? Ask Miss Carroll. It was her bright idea to take the guards off night watch. In her mind, the prisoners won't want to escape if you treat them with respect. Anyway, I started to lose interest once the film turned into a jungle fugitive flick. I mean, if you're not going to bring Rosalba Neri along, what's the point? Exactly. There isn't one. No Neri, no watchy. It's that simple.
 

 

Lacking the graphic violence of its cinematic cousins, such as Bare Behind Bars, Women's Prison Massacre, and Jess Franco's own Barbed Wire Dolls, 99 Women has quality acting (Mercedes McCambridge and Herbert Lom are both excellent) and old school titillation (two words: Rosalba Neri) on its side, as the film trades over the top gore for thrills of a more subtle nature.
 

 

Don't be alarmed, though, the film still packs quite the wallop, as they say. It's got a cruel warden, a piggish governor who dresses like a German World War I officer, a naive new girl who doesn't know the ropes, cat fights (no shower fights, or shower scenes, for that matter, but one of the girl brawls is water-based), and one helluva dyke bar flashback. Employing words that are slightly different than the one's I just used, it's got all the ingredients any reasonable person could possibly need to make one delectable women in prison treat.

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