Saturday, 2 July 2016

Erotic (Sexy) Nights of the Living Dead - review

1980 (Italy)


Contains spoilers.

Let's address the obvious. Notorious Italian Director Joe D'Amato's Erotic Nights of the Living Dead is a hard-core pornographic feature, with full penetration, oral, girl on girl and pop-shots, and we're not just talking about the original and now infamous scene with a bottle of champagne, and this factor alone is going to dictate to most whether this is a film for them. Well it is and perhaps it shouldn't. You see there are two versions. There's the 'uncut' one with all the aforementioned explicit squelching and twelve minutes of extra rudity, and there's a 'general' release without, and now having, ahem, educated myself with what one would be missing I can make the case that one would actually not only be not missing that much, but they'd perhaps actually be watching something that benefited directly because of it. Getting right to it, which is coincidentally, exactly what eighties Italians seem to do; unless you just have to watch pretty tame, lethargic and drawn out amateur vintage euro porn then the film benefits immensely with faster pacing, stronger cohesion and identity and a more consistent narrative for not being interrupted with it every five minutes. Don't get me wrong it's still wall to wall tits and arse but it's not quite so distracting.

It's a film about a zombie island and the trip to it, and we'll start with this. Larry (George Eastman) owns a boat. John (Mark Shannon), who made me think of Ron Burgandy, wants to hire the boat so he can scope Cat Island for a potential holiday resort, and Fiona (Dirce Funari) wants to take her clothes off. Larry, Mark and Fiona also like sex; a lot, and let's say they're all quite unreserved with who they have it with. It's your usual Zombie Flesh Eaters (Zombi 2) inspired, Italian styled drawn out zombie nonsense with dire legends and warnings, except here with a lot, and I mean a lot more nudity. There is a small zombie cameo, which acts as a small amuse-bouche for the action that will arrive a lot later; but it's a bit leveraged and never taken anywhere.  What we really have is a good hour of badly acted, terribly dubbed, nothingness, that's somehow entirely watchable and absorbing, perhaps both for its awfulness and a terrible voyeuristic perversion just to see what, and you just know it'll be next to little, reason Fiona will find to strip down to the altogether.

Arriving at the island they're met with more warnings, this time in person from mystic and teller of sooths Luna (Laura Gemser - Black Emanuelle) who by remarkable coincidence is also more than happy to get down and jiggly with it, and her grandfather, but instead of listening to tales of an evil zombie master cat, and certain death, choose instead to sunbathe, smoke, drink and frolic in the sun. And honestly, when the zombies start emerging and the weird monkey totems have been summarily cast aside, I had no sympathy for all the screaming, chasing and dying that occurred.

The best way of describing the zombies is 'mixed bag'. There's an attempt at the full fetid, maggot crusted Fulci undead; and they get close on occasion with elaborate make-up and prosthetics, but all too often it's just some fella with some rags and a vacant expression (all the zombies are male). For every confident, dark and uncomfortable, and some of them truly were, zombie sequence with raggedy soulless denizens crawling out from their shallow grave or the ocean forcing our now slightly less sex-obsessed survivors back like an endless surge; there was some guy with a night-shirt jumping out with his arms outstretched like a pathetic slightly uncertain panther. Overall though, and taking into account again that this film was one part zombie to two parts tits-out, the thirty or so minutes when the zombies do matter were surprisingly entertaining and bafflingly strong. Again though, for all the wrong reasons; as if the script and narrative were to be dissected in any way it would be found severely wanting in coherence, competence and substance.

Joe D'Amato's Erotic Nights of the Living Dead is truly wanting, even when put up against other early eighties European horror, and that in itself is quite telling. And yet as a film and feature it's not as bad as it could have been; somehow providing enough intrigue to see things through. For as much as I can, and will, criticise it from top to bottom, from premise to production, I can honestly say I was never truly bored; enjoying the ride like a spellbound slightly uncomfortable voyeur watching a horrific multi-car pile-up, except where everyone was naked. I also found myself strangely forgiving of the obvious sexploitation as the women were not only always in control, but more often the ones with the perceived power, dictating the terms and timing of each sexual encounter, as if the men were just randy little teens always on standby to perform to command. And yes, it's a zombie movie; a real one, and not some half-hearted pornographic satirical swipe at the genre, with an earnest and revered attempt at getting things right. I'm neither going to recommend or reject this odd little Italian sleaze; more suggest it's not totally and summarily dismissed out of hand for, as I stated, the obvious reason - 4/10.

Steven@WTD.

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