Chase_Witherspoon

Overlong Canadian slasher film doubles as a psychological thriller with edgy teen Anderson under psychiatrist Ford's care, trying to recall repressed memories which may help explain the recent disappearances of her friends.

Fresh off the wholesome prairie, Anderson leaps into the sordid slasher genre, suitably anxious as the conflicted teenager who can't (or perhaps won't) recall her tragic past, and although her role is small, Acker is a highlight playing her now deceased mother in the frenetic flashbacks.

Big name Ford seems withdrawn in an uncharacteristic setting, sympathetic toward Anderson's character but his stilted delivery feels quite detached at times, perhaps a post-sync issue or genuine disinterest in the film.

A few gruesome character endings, some quite novel, but the film really needs those shears taken to itself; 15-minutes worth of cutting could've delivered a more efficient flick without sacrificing any of the essential plot which is really quite basic in spite of its epic near two hour duration. Mysterious it is, gripping it is not.

Disbelief aside, whilst surprising, it probably won't be the ending many audiences will welcome, and overall despite being helmed by a proven auteur (Thompson) this rather cliched slasher isn't at his usual cinematic standard. Mildly entertaining but considering the inherent potential, it's mostly a disappointment.

Beatnik version of 'Compulsion' co-stars Falk playing a riddle-speaking philosopher and drug dealer who gets the idea to murder someone - anyone - for kicks.

In his second picture, Falk cultivates a calm, calculating mafia-esque persona with a psychopathic streak, more than a hint of things to come in a subsequently long and illustrious career.

Despite Falk's masterclass, it's Jack Betts who stars as a grieving brother obsessed with finding a killer(s), whilst Lord (future mother to Patrick Warburton) is the wayward production assistant who befriends then agrees to help him entrap the culprits.

Compact, tense and well-acted Canadian noir exaggerates lyrical dialogue - 'why don't you cut out man' - and also cuts a few plot corners in an economical 65 minutes resulting in a satisfying crime-thriller that's entertaining in spite of its austerity and a must-see for Columbo fans.

Technically well-made but no less lurid than D'Amato's most notorious outings, the intrepid photo-journalist (Gemser) begins work on an expose starting with a misogynistic playboy (Bloch) whose harem of vulnerable dolls are forced to participate in sordid activities for the pleasure of his guests. After a brief sojourn to Venice, she manages to infiltrate an exclusive ladies resort wherein its discovered that there exists a secret society of freaks who go beyond all conventional limits to indulge sick fantasies.

Mr Gemser aka Gabriele Tinti co-stars as a dashing aristocrat, Paolo Senatore his promiscuous wife, and beautiful Lorraine De Selle appears briefly as one of Bloch's harem girls whose fallen out of favour with the controlling boss. American ex-pat Roger Browne features in the film's last act playing the morally corrupt politician. The acting is unremarkable, nothing too intense nor casual, but then it's the physical performances which possibly matter most.

Elaborate costumes, opulent sets, disco soundtrack and attractive scenery (New York, Venice) are all first rate for a sexploitation flick, but the film's momentum is inhibited by the meandering plot (I saw the 100 minute uncut version released by Blue Underground) which places more emphasis on hardcore content than anything else. And despite being tagged a horror film, there's nothing to fear until the infamous last few reels which are akin to nazisploitation in their sadistic excess (particularly nasty stuff shot in grainy 8mm style).

Aesthetically interesting, sometimes funny ('me Tarzan, you Jane, now Jane eat Tarzan') but equally quite degrading and likely to disappoint audiences who've perhaps arrived looking for conventional horror. For those who appreciate D'Amato's unique 'genre flexible' style, 'Emanuelle in America' should hold artistic appeal, if not necessarily entertainment value.