Flagellations

HOUSE OF WHIPCORD

Aspect ratio: 1.75:1

Sound format: Mono

A French exchange student (Penny Irving) is lured to an old house in the English countryside where she's incarcerated by a senile old judge (Patrick Barr) and his crazy wife (Barbara Markham), who seek to punish impure young women for 'crimes against morality'.

This was British director Pete Walker's first collaboration with legendary exploitation scriptwriter David McGillivray (HOUSE OF MORTAL SIN, SATAN'S SLAVE, etc.), spawned from a pre-determined ad campaign showing a screaming, half-naked starlet framed by a hangman's noose. The result is a minor classic in which part-time nude model Irving is lured into captivity by her creepy new boyfriend (Robert Tayman, from VAMPIRE CIRCUS) and imprisoned by Barr and Markham. Unwilling to take her predicament lying down, Irving plots escape with her fellow inmates and suffers all manner of indignities at the hands of cruel warder Sheila Keith and her equally depraved second-in-command (Dorothy Gordon).

Cleverly written and cheaply produced in response to an upsurge of activity by the UK's Christian Right in the wake of several controversial film releases - most notably A CLOCKWORK ORANGE, STRAW DOGS, THE DEVILS (all 1971) and LAST TANGO IN Paris (1972) - "Whipcord" opens with a now-famous dedication "...to those who are disturbed by today's lax moral codes and who eagerly await the return of corporal and capital punishment...." Though contemporary critics railed against the threadbare production values and softcore nudity, it's apparent that much of their outrage was prompted by Walker's brazen challenge to the Christian moralists, whose over-zealous rhetoric has always enjoyed a disproportionate measure of representation in the British media.

The film is deliberately crude and confrontational, with a vulnerable heroine - played as an infuriating wimp by relative newcomer Irving, sporting one of the worst French accents in movie history ("'Ow did zey bring you 'ere?") - struggling to survive against all the odds, while Markham's brutal staff indulge their deepest puritan impulses. Keith is especially good in this regard ("I'm going to make you ashamed of your body, de Vernay. I'm going to see to that... personally!"), manifesting the corrupt zeal of a True Believer with little regard for pity or compassion. The sleaze quotient is high for a British shocker of this vintage, but neither McGillivray's script nor Walker's laidback direction comes close to matching the debauched atrocities which distinguished the 'prison camp' subgenre during the 1970's and early 80s, exemplified by the likes of ILSA: SHE WOLF OF THE SS (1974) in America, BARBED WIRE DOLLS (1975) in mainland Europe, and Asian shockers like BAMBOO HOUSE OF DOLLS (1973), LOST SOULS (1980) and WAR VICTIMS (1983). Still, HOUSE OF WHIPCORD is an effective relic, and it led directly to Walker's next offering, FRIGHTMARE (1974), reuniting him with McGillivray and Keith for one of their finest collaborations to date.

A young French model (Penny Irving), resident in London having just completed a controversial photo shoot for a men's magazine, is approached at a party by a charismatic oddball calling himself Mark E. Desade (geddit?) whose dating techniques are strange, to say the least. He invites her to meet his parents, and she foolishly agrees - turns out the old couple (he's blind and senile, she's a sadistic retired prison warder) are running their own private prison in the middle of nowhere with the aim of punishing 'immoral' behaviour with beatings, solitary confinement, humiliations and compulsory Bible lessons. A couple of equally deranged guards are on hand to guide these wayward young things back onto the straight and narrow, along with several menacing rats. Don't ask. HOUSE OF WHIPCORD poured napalm on troubled waters with its original release in 1974, when the hang-'em-and-flog-'em brigade were at their most vocal and the likes of Mary Whitehouse and Lord Longford ("Lord Porn", according to Private Eye magazine) were keeping a beady eye on the increasing amount of sex, violence and bad language on television and in the movies. Pete Walker's bleak and disturbing take on vigilante justice gets the flesh crawling and the nerves jangling like precious few British horror flicks before or since, offering little comfort to the viewer as a series of ghastly coincidences, shocking deaths and unexpected twists take us ever closer to the resolutely downbeat ending. Ironically (hopefully) dedicated to the vocal minority who find sentencing too soft and the law largely impotent, WHIPCORD isn't for everyone - the faint of heart should steer well clear - but offers an upsetting glimpse into the heart of darkness for the curious. Ann Michelle and Penny Irving are surprisingly good in their dramatic roles, but the film is stolen by Barbara Markham, Patrick Barr and Sheila Keith, chewing the scenery as the governess, the helpless judge and the most zealous warden respectively. Ray Brooks (the voice of MR BENN) has a few good scenes as Michelle's sex-mad boyfriend.

Grim, knowing, literate, uncompromising little dig at the British establishment and even sections of the population and it's tabloids' fascination with moral standards and the nasty little deviant punishments thought appropriate - in particular a good thrashing and if really necessary a good hanging. Hang 'em and flog 'em indeed, especially if they are pretty naked girls. WIP, I suppose this could be described as, but how misleading. No pretty shots of a dozen naked girls being hosed down or lesbian sisters kissing or indulging in cat fights. This is English boarding school style bullying and worse dressed up as 'correction'. A very powerful and dark tale of old and not so old England. Some say this is slow in parts. I didn't notice it let up for a minute. Excellent

This movie could have been typical 70's exploitation porn but director Peter Walker turns it around and makes it a grimy desadean attack on the ruling classes. The scene in which the blind judge continues making a solemn speech well after the prisoners have all left the room is worthy of Bunuel. It's all a bit heavy handed and obvious and it seems as though this movie should have been more shocking for it too really work but the bizzare grimy sepia tone of the whole thing really makes it much better than anyone could have expected.

One of Britsploitation master Pete Walker's most infamous films, House of Whipcord is a highly disturbing project that may be too unpleasant for casual viewers to enjoy. The plot finds enigmatic writer Mark E. Desade (Robert Tayman) taking a beautiful, slightly dim French model in funky platform shoes (Penny Irving) home to meet Mum. She discovers too late that Mum is the deranged, moralistic Mrs. Wakehurst (Barbara Markham), and that the family mansion is really an unauthorized private prison for girls that Mum considers wicked sluts. What follows isn't as explicit as you might expect, but the proceedings are so horrifyingly cruel and oppressively bleak that it's often hard to watch.

The acting is top-notch all around, especially Sheila Keith as a whip-wielding barbarian guard. Pete Walker slowly wrings every bit of clammy tension out of the unsavory story. For instance, despite an attractive cast, interesting fashions, and potentially gorgeous locales, everything is presented in a damp grayish tone that makes you want to put on a sweater. He keeps things very unpredictable; when you least expect it, you're hit by an oh-my-God twist that leaves the situation even more hopeless. The pace is slow, there's some unobtrusively clever editing to be found, and the color looks appropriately filthy. This babes-behind-bars horror amalgam really is powerful, but don't make Anne-Marie's mistake: Know where you're heading before you set out.