Saturday, January 1, 2011

"Emanuelle in America"(1976)d/Aristide Massacessi

Some copious amounts of caffeine,an inbox full of female admirers with itchy digicam fingers,cigarettes that are smoking cool n' easy,a stinky bowl of earthy goodness, and some Hindu pop music on the 'phones,and you lucky sumbitches got yourselves a new entry here at Wopsploitation,a genre-friendly site that dances to the beat of its own militaristic drummer,and as such,is loved by true cinephiles and reviled by the so-called inner circle of the online horror community.You i.c. chappies can give each other a hard drive full of award jpegs for your mostly unimaginative genre work and pedestrian estimations,the truth will always out.I'm pretty sure you know it already,but it's so much fun to remind you:I'm still just gonna be the Wop,the guy with the nickname that skirt-wearing Marys consider derogatory,and the ratings scale that vaguely resembles a National Front symbol,the guy with the most unsurpassed reader fanbase in the world,the guy who the Gods reward every single day,by giving him this face to look at in the mirror,which,when combined with my peerless intellect,wit,and cinema knowledge,equates to lots and lots of this,and I think we both know which is infinitely more important in the grand scheme of things.
We'll take a debased and contemptible genre turn(Is there any more satisfying?I think not.) here at the Wop tonight,and dedicate the aftermath to my friend,author Benton Fazzolari,whose latest tome,Mondo Gender,is an engulfingly readable retro-exercise of explicit and exploitative proportions that reads like a double bill at the old West Side Drive-In.All-in-all,a great book by a guy who shares an Italian birthname with my son and more than a few visionaries from our native land,and that's never bad,is it?You'll do well to pick up a copy immediately.Tonight's review focuses on another tasteful tidbit from Papa Joe,the second of his long line of Emanuelle movies,and probably the most notorious of the lot,due to some of the frank portrayals of intercourse and effectively shocking faux snuff footage within.Though very technically sound for D'Amato,considering it falls slightly outside his comfort zone(translation:straight pornography),the film falls a little flat for me on most viewings for some reason,despite being my favorite of the series.Softcore with a few ill-advised and unsexy hardcore inserts doesn't do much for me these days.I'd sooner watch his unapologetic triple x rip offs of Hollywood movies,but there you go.It's gotta be Laura Gemser's giant masculine hands.Admit it,you've thought about how scary those mitts are,once or twice yourselves.Onward.
A good investigative journalist often does her best work bare-assed.
We first see Emanuelle(Laura Gemser),an Indonesian fashion photographer-slash-research correspondent(someone please fill me in on how she picked up the nick "Black Emmanuelle" again?),as she's photographing some nude broads in Minnie Pearl hats and Janet from Three's Company socks around a motorcycle,after which a vindictive,virginal Greg Brady lookalike who's obsessed with of one of her models,gives her a scolding at the end of a gun barrel in the front seat of her Aspen(!).Naturally,faced with being murdered in broad daylight,she starts to sing into his pink microphone,causing him to run screaming into the street.She procures the first of her journalistic “assignments”, after contacting a punched up old black jive-talking boxing manager who gets her into a wealthy businessman’s harem of women the way only a punched up old black jive-talking boxing manager could(?)...All of the women are given identification bracelets,told what to wear,and called by their zodiac sign while existing only to provide for their master’s slightest impulse.One of the haremettes even takes it upon herself to make nice with Pedro,the master's stallion.If you aren't up for watching a girl pull horse pud to money shot on camera like an oversized shake-weight,you'll probably be hitting the ff button here.Not Emanuelle,apparently,who manages to snap some quick spy pics with her gadget camera right out of a Bond film,then abruptly splits.The sight of Mr. Ed crackin' open an equestrian Suzie must have crossed the line of acceptable behaviour for her.
This dame moaned 'til her voice was hoarse,her husband's course was a quick divorce,since he found her engaging in intercourse with the famous Senor Pedro.
Next she flies off to meet with a Venician Duke(Gemser's real life husband Gabrielle Tinti) for,what else,a steamy three way with he and the duchess,followed by a balls out orgy kicked off by a strumpet inside a krimpet(insert your aristocrats joke here,folks)before retreating to a West Indian resort that serves up sizeable manroot remedies by the inch to its sexually frustrated elite female clientele with snuff films as the mood setter. When she’s caught doing her reporter bit by the pro-pussy proprietor,she weasels her way out of the sitch by feeding her a prick cookie dripping with aphrodisiac and lapping down on her vertical smile herself.Oh,that Black Emanuelle!She finds herself next in the nation's capital,(despite the deceptive film title,she nearly spends less time in America than Jason Voorhees did in Manhattan,if you're keeping score at home) tracing the cinematic nasties to a corrupt senator(“If you must break the law, do it to seize power: in all other cases observe it.”,as Jule-baby used to say)with a dirty beak in the snuff film industry,getting herself dosed with lysergic acid and taken to a third world shithole so she can bear witness to the making of an honest-to-goodness snuff film,complete with gaffing hook-rape and breast removal by machete.Cross that one off your South American bucket list,Ms. E.When her employer refuses to print the fantastically diabolical story of moral bankruptcy among the upper eschelon, she calls it a day for journalism. Finally reunited with his worldly woman,her boyfriend naturally packs them up and heads for the furthest,most austere jungle locale,where he abruptly sells her to a tribal chieftain,of course(!).So much for a Diavante diamond tennis bracelet.As dawn breaks upon them, they discover there’s a film crew documenting the tribe,and deciding they don’t much want to be in a movie,they break the fuck out like poison sumac.That's it.
Mastectomy.You're doing it wrong.
Gemser would return to reprise the role in Emanuelle in Bangkok(1977)for D'Amato the following year.Living up to its "video nasty" status,America is a strange Italian hardcore gore-laden turn for a previously softcore series that makes one ponder the inherent madness of the film process at great lengths,albeit a necessary one for any and all D'Amatophiles and fans of classic seventies exploitation sleaze.No vasoline-coated lenses here.Just a generous helping of embarrassingly dated fashions and sexual situations flavoured with an excellent and groovy soundtrack by maestro Nico Fidenco.You can pick up the definitive special edition dvd by genre giants,Blue Underground,whereas I was among the nitwits who paid extra to have the region 2 years earlier.Eh,whattayagonnado.On the controversial rating scale,America uses her combination necklace/spy camera to sneak a picture of two solid wops indeed.Check it out.
Burt Reynolds,slighted by the Academy on "Gator"(1976),prepares to dole out some masked retribution.

1 comment:

beedubelhue said...

A clothed,upskirt shot of a pantied ass violates your terms of service,Photobucket?Hmmm,I'd better replace it with something far more graphically hot than that then....


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