Il sesso degli angeli

Ugo Liberatore pioneered in the art of scenic, globe-hopping porn, with films visiting Bora Bora, Bali, the Pitcairn Islands, and even giving merry olde England an ethnographic slant in perhaps his best pic MAY MORNING, about weird though time-honored rituals at Oxford. THE SEX OF ANGELS is a subpar effort set on the rocky coast of Yugoslavia.

Three beautiful young girls are vacationing on a magnificent yacht (belonging to the daddy of one of them), along with a stud acquaintance they bring along for obvious reasons. Centerpiece of the film is their experimenting rather disastrously with LSD, as the stud, listlessly played by Bernard De Vries, wakes up from a bad trip with a bullet hole mysteriously in his side.

From that point on the film dwindles away in unsatisfying fashion, perhaps a victim of the "hippy-dippy" era in which it was made. The girls fail to see properly to their friend's wound and all sympathy with the characters evaporates, long before the film mercifully concludes.

I watched a German-language version of this co-production, which is probably on a par with the Italian one, since it was scripted by a top German writer-producer Franz Seitz, who contributed to many classic films including Volker Schlondorff's THE TIN DRUM and Max Schell's THE PEDESTRIAN. Unfortunately the action here is strictly pedestrian.

The beautiful stars take their tops off, making this briefly a marketable art film in 1969 from United Artists' Lopert subsidiary, which at the time was playing off numerous Ingmar Bergman films during his Max/Liv era. I found Laura Troschel, as a token lesbian, the most interesting of the three, having seen both Rosemary Dexter and Doris Kunstmann previously in far better roles -latter memorable playing Eva Braun opposite Alec Guinness's Hitler.

In its best moments SEX OF THE ANGELS captures a little bit of that rare "daylit horror" mood that in film history has been nailed most successfully in LEAVE HER TO HEAVEN and PURPLE NOON. But mainly it is just Ugo doing his standard skin flick thing as prettified as could be, setting the stage for EMMANUELLE and endless Euro trash softcore sex films shot in exotic settings, of which I still think Hubert Frank's VANESSA was the pinnacle.

In the late sixties, you couldn't go for a nice beach holiday anywhere on the Adriatic without having your nice sea view marred by the endless masts of yachts steered by skinny Euro babes in tiny bikinis. You'd be sitting there with your pint of Union Grand beer, trying to take in the gentle wash of waves while a bunch of burnt out rich pseudo hippies squabbled about 'turning on', 'making it' and 'murdering each other' while revving their engines. Your kids would be poking a jellyfish with a stick one minute then blindly staggering about trying to remove some German hunk's grundies that have blown onto their face, rudely thrown from the stern of a ship.

The Sex of Angels features neither a great deal of sex and certainly no angels, but is another tale of why you probably shouldn't head off into the Adriatic with a complete stranger and a whole load of LSD. There's Nora (spoiled rich kid), Nancy (virgin, won't stop going on about it, wants her 'first to be a negro', and Carla (lesbian, loves Nancy, not reciprocated) and Marco, who's technically kidnapped into being there for reasons I can't quite figure out. He's off to Venice with the girls!

After much dialogue and such like, we do eventually get to the point where the quartet take LSD, which is when some sort of a plot develops too. You see, everyone wakes up the next day feeling a bit rough, Marco has his face painted black, Nora's having a bad trip and someone's been shot in the stomach and needs medical attention. No one can remember anything, but maybe that tape recorder they set up might help…

And thus we have our mystery, but strangely for a giallo we don't get any particular twist. Things just play out as they are for the remainder of the film, which is kind of refreshing as we got people dealing with the aftermath of an nasty even in their own way. Just like the other two films set on Yachts I've watched recently (Interrabang and Top Sensation) the film looks great and the music is awesome too, with an added bonus of an inventive credits sequence.

I recently watched the Italian crime thriller 🇮🇹 The Sex of Angels (1968) on the Full Moon app on Prime. The storyline follows three stunning Italian women who, after a night of indulgence with an Italian playboy, decide to take him on a ride where his wealth and freedom are at stake.

Directed by Ugo Liberatore (Bora Bora), the film stars Bernard De Vries (Erika), Rosemary Dexter (Eye in the Labyrinth), Doris Kunstmann (Funny Games), Giovanni Petrucci (Death Rides a Horse), and Laura Troschel (The Blind Fly).

This is one of those films that you hope will be more creative than it turns out to be. Yes, the women are beautiful, and the Mediterranean backdrop is undeniably gorgeous. The setup of the plot had potential, but there are some cheesy elements throughout. The "Virgin" subplot felt especially corny. Surprisingly, there wasn't as much nudity as one might expect from a film of this nature. The portrayal of LSD use and its effects, were hilarious. The ending, unfortunately, was too straightforward and predictable.

In conclusion, The Sex of Angels aims for cleverness but misses the mark. I'd score it a 4/10 and recommend skipping it.

Three privileged young women more or less steal a yacht for an impromptu trip from Vienna to the Yugoslavian coast, and for further entertainment purposes also sorta-kidnap a handsome young man they've barely met. Unsurprisingly, jealousies and strife break out, there is violence, and eventually mortal peril surfaces. The problem is, most of that action happens offscreen--what's onscreen is just a lot of pretty people in skimpy bathing suits arguing. No one is particularly sympathetic here, and their company is tiresome enough that the runtime feels much longer than it is. Halfway through the characters take LSD, and you think "At last! Something will happen, and there will be visuals beyond pretty people and pretty scenery!" Then the film cuts directly to the morning after, when no one remembers what happened while they were high. What a letdown. Then the squabbling resumes.

I get it that in 1968, a high degree of exposed skin and characters talking this casually about sex and their own lack of morality would have been very new, enough to at least somewhat justify the whole otherwise rudderless enterprise. But now the effect is just boring. It's not that these actors are bad, or unattractive, it's that they aren't allowed to be interesting--they're playing spoilt adults brats whose fate we don't care about, and that in itself doesn't make any meaningful point about society or whatever. The suspense elements are too inertly handled to generate any tension at all. If the film had consisted of these four actors sunbathing for two hours, it wouldn't be very different, because that's exactly what it FEELS like.

Curiously, the very same year there was a now-largely-forgotten British film called "The Touchables" that was also about several very fashionable, superficial young women who kidnap an attractive young man and hold them captive for similar "sharing" purposes (this time in an inflatable plastic "dome" in the countryside). That movie is not exactly "good," but it is definitely fun in a datedly mod, psychedelic, wildly aestheticized way. Whereas "Sex of Angels" survives as nothing more than a testament to sun, scenery and near-nudity, things that have not gotten more compelling with age.

This movie is absolutely one of the worst pieces of film feces I have ever witnessed. Every aspect of this movie ranks as some of the worst of all time. The writing, the script, the editing, the production, the audio, and the casting, are all equally bad. I have wasted an hour and a half of my life on this dreadful film. Hopefully, you are lucky enough to read this review, before you spend any time watching the movie. If you watch it to the end, you will regret it just as I now regret it. I cannot imagine why anyone would have invested their time, their energy, and the reputation in this dreadful cinematic nightmare. I am certain that the screen, writer, the storyboard producer, and the film editor never met in person and likely never spoke a word to each other.