Dir: Joe D’Amato, 1977
This review refers to the uncut version
Continuing his jumping on the bandwagon of Just Jaeckin’s infamous Emmannuelle and the subsequent series that followed, D’Amato brings his own brand of perversion to this unofficial follow on.
As usual, for a D’Amato film, there’s very little in the way acting, but an abundance of flesh and pubic hair with the obligatory pornographic scenes dropped in.
Laura Gemser plays the nymphomaniac journalist, again, that thinks nothing of performing fellatio to a man who has a gun pointed at her head and random sex with random strangers, regardless of whether they are men or women.
Somewhere along the line, she ends up in some sort of harem, taking pictures of what goes on in there.
Our fearless reporter is witness to a woman masturbating a horse, orgies and snuff films, all without batting an eyelid.
The sleazy Italian director couldn’t direct traffic, let alone anything else.
Much in the same vein as Tinto Brass, to compensate for his lack of talent, labias and vulvas are thrust in front of the screen in an effort to liven things up, but it doesn’t work.
The sex scenes are mechanical, without any hint of enthusiasm by the actors.
It’s difficult to see where D’Amato was going with any of his films. What was the aim? Was he making a porno or a film? Is it all about breaking the sex taboo? Or was he a dirty old man? Judging by how extreme he takes his films, was his purpose purely to shock?
However, there is a germ of a good plot, here. Snuff films and pornography have always supplied cinema with decent material to make a good movie. Paul Schrader’s Hardcore is one such example. Joel Schumacher’s 8mm another. Both very good films, showing the seedy underbelly of underground porn.
In the right hands, Emanuelle In America could have been a good thriller. But, instead, we have this dross, made by a pervy bloke with a bestial fetish.
A terrible, terrible film with nothing worthwhile to recommend it.