Salon Kitty

I'm not really sure what I was hoping for when I rented this movie, but I know I certainly wasn't hoping for what I got here. To be sure, the art direction is extremely good. And sure, there is gobs of nudity and sex almost bordering on hard-core. But despite all this, the movie is BORING, especially at the almost ungodly length of over 2 hours with the recently issued director's cut! While there is an interesting idea with the plot premise, it goes all over the place. Characters come then go offscreen for long periods of time so they aren't really developed, and the little plot there is would probably (at best) barely cover an hour if all the redundant footage was cut out. All the same, pretty amazing Germany would get involved in a coproduction of this nature, and I guess it might be considered an interesting footnote in that it served as a warm-up for Brass' equally bizarre later film CALIGULA.

"Salon Kitty" is a cinematic journey into the seedy goings-on at Madame Kitty's Berlin brothel, where the prostitutes are SS-trained, patriotic beauties. While this premise may sound intriguing, the actual delivery is drawn-out and, it must be said, a tad boring. 20 minutes cut have been cut out of this movie and it would have been more effective as a result.

Scenes of debauchery are limited but interesting. The scene where the SS girls are viewed with a variety of sexual partners as a test to see how they react is deliciously dark and unsettling. I'm not easily shocked but this particular sequence really pushes barriers of taste and censorship (and should be applauded as a result).

The film is atmospheric and the sets (by Ken Adam, famous for his Bond creations) are excellent. However, there are too many musical interludes for my taste. It's like "Cabaret" on acid.

A hesitant recommendation, "Salon Kitty" won't be to everybody's tastes. It's a flawed film but it has its moments. Not a film to avoid controversy, animal lovers will be appalled that scenes of real pig-killing are contained. This put me off my hot dog, as did the many scenes of male genitalia. Tinto Brass seems to be obsessed with all things dangly. Trust me, by the end of the film, you'll be wishing that the cast put some clothes on. (An exception to this may be the delightful Teresa Ann Savoy, but I digress.) 6 out of 10 - could have been leaner and meaner.

An SS officer (Helmut Berger) uses a notorious upscale bordello off the Kurfurstendanstrasse with loyal party prostitutes to spy on its clients for the State. As the war progresses it becomes a place with growing suspicion and paranoia.

Tinto Brass's notorious erotic movie is based off a real bordello that was for a while operated by none other than the high ranking Nazi Reinhard Heydrich. The film of course focuses on nudity and the erotic, but it is also very stylish looking with some wonderful Art Deco sets designed by none other than the great art director famous for his James Bond films, Ken Adam, with costumes designed by Ugo Pericoli and Jost Jacob. In many senses the brothel acts as an analogy and a microcosm on how the war progressed for Germany making it one of the more intelligent Nazisploitation films. Of course it fetishises the Nazis and becomes quite bizarre in places as the film develops.

Sometimes when a film relaxes and you relax into it, you can really feel that you are touching the filmmaker. That he is slightly drunk and comfortable and you are experiencing him (or her).

That's one place you want to be in your life in films, and it is the basis for many of the film experiences I rate as "must have."

But it has all sorts of dangers. The filmmaker must be more than skilled enough to connect, he must be actually interesting, worthwhile, engaged in life in ways that impregnate. There are few films that are well enough sculpted to be entered. And of those, there are few that reward your investing wet parts of your soul to it. You know who the good ones are.

Even then, often you'll get what you have here, equal parts of fine wine and flat cola. I suppose it is impossible to be otherwise with Nazi-centered soft porn, but Jess Franco (when not drunk) can do pretty well.

The good here is that once in a while, you'll encounter some staging with some stark, clear composition and elements that are every bit in the class with Lang or Greenaway. These have ordinary camera positions: non-human in character but human in position. Its the creation of a staged imagination, of dramatic nuance not placed in the actor but in the cinematic frame. (The actors aren't bad, by the way; its just that the weight of the thing isn't on their shoulders — or other body parts.)

Some day, commentors like me will be able to provide bookmarks to these scenes so you can experience them without wading through the rotted soup in between. Oh, and that is a ghastly experience, a walk in the dark through greasy fog from one brilliant view through a window to the next.

Hey, there's a story, but never mind. Its as irrelevant, stupid and disposable as its sisters, like "Schindler's List," which this resembles in a few ways. And there's some nudity, though in most cases one wonders why. The chief actress is pretty and very German, different from Brasses usual big-bottomed Italian tigresses.

I'd really like you to see some of the good stuff here. But like much of Bertolucci, you would curse me for sending you there.

Ted's Evaluation -- 2 of 3: Has some interesting elements.

Outrageous, unsettling, exploitative and courageous, it is also slightly overlong. The current running time at well over two hours is due to the more contentious material being put back in but maybe some other scenes might have been cut to compensate. I love the film, the scenes of debauchery and nudity, male and female, the decadent singing and dancing and the glorious sets by Ken Adam but it is a slight story and as the end draws near it begins to stumble and repeat itself. Always preferable to the much lauded Cabaret there is a real sense of foreboding, of a major calamity and despite the roars and champagne popping at news of the invasion of Poland and later the fall of Paris, we can't help waiting for the biggest crash when the nasty, ugly men in the wonderful costumes get their comeuppance.