In first few minutes of "The Washing Machine," Vida (busty Katarzyna Figura) has make up sex with her gangster boyfriend/pimp Yuri (Yorgo Voyagis) in front of an open refrigerator. Watching from the stairs is one of Vida's two sisters she shares the apartment with, Ludmilla (Barbara Ricci). Ludmilla hikes up her nightgown and spreads her legs to give us a perfect view of her white panties. Then she starts playing a triangle (no, that isn't a euphemism), Vida and Yuri seemingly oblivious to her musical accompaniment, until Vida looks over her shoulder to give her sister a knowing smile.
Things get weirder later that night when Ludmilla discovers Yuri's body hacked to pieces and stuffed inside the washing machine (hence the awful English title). Or did she? By the time the police arrive the next morning there is no body, because what's a giallo without a mysteriously disappearing corpse? But Ludmilla and her sisters Vida and Sissy report a murder anyway. Inspector Stacev (Philippe Caroit) dismisses the women as cranks, only to be drawn into conducting an investigation when the sisters contact him separately, alternately trying to seduce him (or flat out forcing themselves on him like Vida does) and tease him with information that might prove Yuri was murdered.
The plot of "The Washing Machine" doesn't withstand close scrutiny and often revelations are made as if screenwriter Luigi Spagnol just thought of them the day of filming (e.g., Ludmilla having a drinking problem, Stacev being into S/M). But with such crazy set pieces as Sissy (Ilaria Borrelli) having sex with Stacev in the middle of a museum while blind students wander around them, who cares?
"The Washing Machine" promises a sleazy good time and almost delivers. Where it disappoints is how it handles its numerous trashy elements. It's not that it goes too far; it often doesn't go far enough. Given that the movie is directed by Ruggero Deodato, the man who gave us "Cannibal Holocaust," it's downright tame. Breasts are exposed every 10 minutes or so, but the numerous sex scenes aren't terribly creative or explicit. The women seldom get totally naked (only Borrelli does full frontal) and the men all have sex completely clothed. There are Shannon Tweed vehicles that push the envelope further than this movie does. Deodato is less restrained with the gory moments, but there are few of those. For me, "The Washing Machine" is summed up in its opening scene: kinky and weird but refusing to take off its underwear.
