Die sieben Männer der Sumuru
*½/**** Image A- Sound A- Extras A-
starring Shirley Eaton, Richard Wyler, George Sanders, Maria Rohm
screenplay by Peter Welbeck
directed by Jess Franco
Sadomania – Hölle der Lust
Hellhole Women
ZERO STARS/**** Image B+ Sound A- Extras A-
starring Ajita Wilson, Ursula Fellner, Robert Foster, Gina Jansen
screenplay by Jess Franco and Günter Ebert
directed by Jess Franco
by Walter Chaw Theoretically, I'm not opposed to the idea of the exploitation film. In the right hands, its disreputable ingredients of sex, violence, and "shocking" behaviour (the girl and the gun of Godardian legend) could be a thrilling camera subject and a springboard for lush stylistic excess. But for every Russ Meyer, Dario Argento, or Suzuki Seijun who knows his way around a camera, there are scores of Lucio Fulcis, Ruggero Deodatos, and Jess Francos who have no clue as to how to make a movie that hangs together. The latter of that unholy trio is a case in point: the current DVD release of two of his films is an occasion for seeing how far the exploitation formula can go wrong. Running the gamut from ridiculous (The Girl from Rio) to repellent (Sadomania), they lack any real stylistic brio to enliven their rote excesses and cheap perversions, succeeding only as possible subjects for Mystery Science Theatre 3000-style mockery.
I suppose The Girl from Rio and Sadomania are of passing interest for those curious to see how far the form came in the twelve years separating the two films. The Girl from Rio dates back to 1969, when exploitation meant bare breasts and little else–censorship was only beginning to loosen up, and Franco's limited but perverse imagination had to find subterfuge to indulge in his favourite pastimes. Thus we have the Sax Rohmer-inspired character of Sumeru (Shirley Eaton), a megalomaniacal leader of an all-woman army bent on male and world domination. As cash is always an obstacle, she aims to capture those with a bit of a surplus, thus she has designs on Jeff Sutton (Richard Wyler), who, for reasons never adequately explained, is believed to have stolen ten million dollars from Sir Masius (a slumming George Sanders). But the non-existent money is merely a ruse to infiltrate Sumeru's organization and rescue one of its prisoners–to the great irritation of the lady in charge.
That, at least, is what I gather the film is about; in fact, its script is as confusing and elliptical as any Alain Resnais epic (though without the philosophical underpinnings). This is really beside the point, of course, because the true motive of the production is to get scads of women in as many states of undress as is humanly possible. Sumeru's troops wear ridiculously tight low-riders and midriff-baring tops; the mistress herself dons frilly see-through outfits and beds whoever's available. Who needs narrative coherence when you've got a line of half-clad girls with toy rifles, ready and willing to be ogled? The only thing that can be said for sure about the story is that it's determined to flatter the male audience with a fight against some she-woman man-haters, who at any rate undercut their own struggle by conforming to the male gaze as much as possible. It hates women for being sexy and derides them if they're not. It has its cheesecake and eats it, too.
I like naked flesh as much as the next guy, but somehow, I need to be convinced that the erotic goings-on are actually going on. Coupled with the cheapness of the production, the slapdash nature of the story makes it impossible to believe in the film on any level–there's no acceptance by the filmmakers of the limited means, and therefore no inventive attempts to get around the budget. One wonders what Jack Smith would have made of the Maria Montez-worthy "sets," such as the Plexiglas-and-dry-ice gas chambers that pass for a stockade, or the sinister torture device that merely has to be pointed to achieve pain. (The budget apparently wasn't expansive enough to include the most basic of special effects.) The ludicrous finale–in which the apparently implacable army is overpowered by a bunch of helicopters with smoke bombs–pretty much seals the deal, ensuring that no one could take this thing seriously save for the most undemanding of skin fanciers.
Still, The Girl from Rio could conceivably entertain you as camp, assuming you're backed by a bunch of your friends and a fifth of Jack between you. But all the alcohol in the world can't redeem Sadomania, Franco's 1981 women-in-prison opus that sinks to all-time lows both cinematic and ethical. While on honeymoon, two young marrieds make the mistake of at getting too close to the all-girl prison run by brutal Magda (Ajita Wilson), resulting in the pretty blonde wife's induction into the camp and her husband's expulsion from the country. And this is no ordinary prison. Not only are the inmates outfitted in nothing but blue denim hotpants, but they are also often subject to the whims of both Magda and Gov. Mendoza (Robert Foster), who alternately sexually abuse the prisoners, use them as target practice, and sell them into prostitution for the local miners. There's mild intrigue involving the husband's attempt to rescue his bride, though not nearly enough for my taste.
The Girl from Rio's pretense to being an actual movie is nowhere in evidence here–there is no attempt at style or narrative, merely a contentment to indulge in some nasty misogyny and callous disregard for the female cast. While even hardcore porn makes individual stars of its performers, the women of Sadomania are mere window-dressing for the director's unpleasant fantasies, including a scene involving a girl and a German shepherd that I elected not to complete. (The film was banned in the UK and heavily censored in America for a reason.) To an extent (and happily), it's too inept to believe as a movie about these perversions, the truth of its chain of events belied by non-writing and shoddy production values, but that doesn't erase one's revulsion at the real-life degradations being committed by the production team. They don't call it "exploitation" for nothing, I guess.
THE DVDs
Blue Underground's Girl from Rio disc largely does the trick. The 1.66:1, 16×9-enhanced image is remarkably successful–colours are vibrant without oversaturation or bleeding, while fine detail is as sharp as can be expected. Alas, the presentation isn't quite perfect: some solid blacks have a greenish tinge to them. The 2.0 mono sound is adequate but unspectacular, slightly soft and hollow but generally serviceable. Extras begin with the 14-minute "Rolling in Rio", a series of interviews with star Shirley Eaton, producer Harry Alan Towers, and director Jess Franco; Towers doesn't have much to say (except that he was pleased to have no union problems in Rio) and Franco is an anti-intellectual with nothing but venom for "false intellectuals," but Eaton is an interesting subject who relished her role as a villain but was not impressed at the use of a double to suggest a lesbian scene without her consent. Ah, exploitation. There is also a poster and still gallery, marshalling an astonishing number of publicity materials from across the globe; "The Facts of Sumuru", a surprisingly thorough account of Sax Rohmer and how his Sumeru character evolved from the higher-profile character of Fu Manchu; and an equally thorough Franco bio that allows him to again vent his rage against serious filmmakers. Memo to Jess: no love lost.
Meanwhile, the company's Sadomania platter is just as good visually: again there is a comfortable balance of chromatic vibrancy and fine detail in the (1.66:1, 16×9-enhanced) image, though scenes of darkness are a tad grainy. The 2.0 mono sound is surprisingly robust for a film of such a low budget (and dubious character), making one wonder if it was re-dubbed specially for this DVD release. As for extras, there is the 18-minute "Sadomanic", an interview with Franco in which he praises Ajita Wilson's performance, reveals the perils of making a sexploitation film in post-Franco Spain, and generally acts like his coarse no-bullshit self; a huge gallery of promotional materials; the film's English and Spanish trailers; and thorough bios of Franco and Wilson, the latter as depressing as it is informative.
- The Girl from Rio
94 minutes; R; 1.66:1 (16×9-enhanced); English DD 2.0 (Mono); DVD-9; Region-free; Blue Underground - Sadomania
102 minutes; NR; 1.66:1 (16×9-enhanced); English DD 2.0 (Mono); DVD-9; Region One; Blue Underground
