A section 3 video nasty, this movie was made by Rino Di Silvestro, who claimed that he wanted to make a serious werewolf movie. We should take the director of Deported Women of the SS Special Section at his word, I guess.
Daniella Neseri (Annik Borel, Weekend with the Babysitter, Truck Turner, Blood Orgy of the She-Devils) was assaulted when she was just a child, which has made her emotionally and sexually stunted and unable to have any relationships with men. Then she learns that she comes from a lineage of werewolf women, at which point she begins to have very involved dreams about being a wolf woman that manifest themselves when she gets all bothered watching her sister Elena (Dagmar Lassander, The House by the Cemetery, Hatchet for the Honeymoon) making sweet love to her man, so she responds by killing the dude, then throwing his body off a cliff because that’s how they did therapy in 1976.
Found near the body, Daniella is institutionalized before breaking away and continuing her murder spree before she finds love and respect — after killing a potential rapist — in the arms of Luca (Howard Ross, whose real name is Renato Rossini, and whose career stretched through nearly every genre of Italian exploitation, from Hercules Against the Mongols and The Man Called Noon to Marta, Naked Girl Killed in the Park and The Pyjama Girl Case to The New York Ripperand Warriors of the Year 2072).
Of course, this is an Italian horror movie and there’s no way that Luca and the werewolf woman can be happy just making love on the beach. Three men break in and assault her before killing him, so she hunts them all down before the cops arrest her. To ensure that no one learns any lessons, she’s institutionalized and dies, then her dad kills herself, then her sister, who has lost everything, just lives whatever life is left after all this.
Man, I don’t know if they knew what they had with this movie, a film that shows the institutions of men failing women on every level, including the male-directed movie that tells this story. That said, a movie where a woman equates sexual desire to being a werewolf and also she maybe is a werewolf and the knowledge that I’ve spent more time considering the psychosexual implications of this movie than the people who made it? That’s why I keep writing about films like this.
Also known as Daughter of a Werewolf, Naked Werewolf Woman, She-Wolf, Terror of the She-Wolf and Legend of the Wolf Woman, this film is something else. You can get it from Raro Video.
Also known as Day of the Woman, this film was prosecuted in the U.K. — placed on their Section 1 list — while being outright banned in countries like Ireland, Norway, Iceland and West Germany. A 2001 re-release saw seven minutes of the film being cut, mostly the lengthy rape sequence that has earned this film its misogynistic label.
I Spit on Your Grave is easily found across VOD and PPV platforms as well as DVDs and Blu-rays across various imprints.
But somehow, I’ve never seen it. Maybe the giant clamshell with the handwritten must be 18 to rent note frightened me. I mean, I was certainly aware of it, but while most slashers allowed enough voyeuristic fun for teenagers in my small hometown, I Spit On Your Grave just seemed like a bummer trip. And yeah, it is, but I’m glad I’ve finally watched it.
Short story writer Jennifer Hills (Camille Keaton, the Solange of What Have You Done to Solange?) is tough and independent enough to live in Manhattan, but when she rents an isolated cottage in Connecticut, her very presence makes the men of the town wary. Even the mentally challenged man she has been kind of, Matthew, is a party as they abduct and assault her. Johnny, Stanley and Andy then tell the young man to kill her, but he fakes the job and she survives.
They took not just everything from her, but even tore apart the book that she came to this quiet place to complete. Now, as she reassembles the manuscript, she begins destroying the men, starting by making love to Matthew before hanging him and dumping his body in the lake.
By the end of the film, she has become a destroyer, giving Johnny the mother of all ruined orgasms, slamming an axe into Andy and ordering Stanley just as he told her to “suck it” by forcing him into the outboard motor of her boat.
Is the revenge catharsis enough? I’ve always wondered.
Writer-director Meir Zarchi came up with this movie — his wife typed the script on the very typewriter that Jennifer uses in the film — when he met the survivor of an assault in the mid 70s. He couldn’t sell the idea to anyone, so he made it himself before losing money each time he played it as Day of the Woman, I Hate Your Guts and The Rape and Revenge of Jennifer Hill. He got the Jerry Gross Organization to distribute it and the deal was that they could change the title to anything they wished. Look, no one could rename a movie like Jerry Gross and that’s where we get the best part of this movie, its title: I Spit on Your Grave.
This film was universally hated by critics, but Zarchi had no time for them, saying “”Frankly, I’m not concerned whether it receives bad press or not. It doesn’t touch me one way or the other whatsoever. If you told me that the public does not like it and the critics like it, then there is something very, very bad about that. Who am I reaching? Three-hundred critics around the United States, or 2,000 around the world? It’s really the public that counts, the 20 million who have seen the film around the globe.”
Keaton married Zarchi in 1979 and they divorced in 1982, which is pretty wild considering what she was put through in this film. She was also the fifth wife of Sidney Luft, who was once married to Judy Garland. As for her and Zarci, they’d work together again in 2019 when he made I Spit on Your Grave: Deja Vu.
This is a film about Nazis. It’s also about a testicular transplant. It’s also known as SS Experiment Love Camp. It’s a film about prisoners of war used in experiments to perfect the Aryan race, while Colonel von Kleiben receives an oral testicle castration by a Russian girl. Its advertising campaign featured a naked woman handing upside down on a crucifix — which gave this film its infamy.
Courtesy of the cover, SS Experiment Camp easily found a slot on the U.K.’s “Section 1” list — but the British Board of Film Classification passed it with no cuts. The BBFC claimed that “. . . despite the questionable taste of basing an exploitation film in a concentration camp, the sexual activity itself was consensual and the level of potentially eroticized violence is sufficiently limited.”
Okay then, BBFC. But why didn’t you mention the film behind the VHS sleeve was boring.
Honestly, even being a Sergio Garrone fan — and aficionado of all things VHS taboo — the hoopla over this Nazisplotation film, while certainly worthy of its suffix, Garrone’s dip (one of two!) into the Nazi pool isn’t — as most “Video Nasties” — as shocking or offense as its reputation.
In addition to the boredom of it all, the production values, frankly, stink; as result, the entertainment value of the crowded jewel of the genre, Isla, She Wolf of the SS (1975), and the deeper, psychological study of — and superior scripting of — The Gestapo’s Last Orgy (1977) is utterly void from SS Experiment Camp.
It’s hard to believe Sergio Garrone made this, the writer-director who gave us spaghetti western buffs Django the Bastard (1969), Kill Django . . . First Kill (1971), and Bastard, Go and Kill (1971). Then, of course, there’s his superior work with Klaus Kinski in the pseudo-Frankenstein romp, The Hand That Feeds the Dead (1974), that we love amid the B&S About Movies’ cubicle farm.
The “experiment camp” of this tale is just that: a medical facility experimenting in perfecting the Aryan race with German soldiers copulating with female prisoners. When one of the soldiers makes the mistake of falling in love with his prisoner-mate — he becomes Colonel von Kleiben’s testicle donor.
And that’s pretty much it, for this film is all about the genre hopping: It’s just a whole lot of lesbian wardens, sadistic guards, and softcore sex punctuated by (and not as graphic as you’d think) torture scenes (a water tank that both boils and freezes prisoners into submission), and lots of “superiority of the” Third Reich babbling. Oh, and lots of full frontal female nudity. Lots. But hey, when you’re an overweight and acne-covered kid berated for wearing a Misfits tee-shirt — and even the girl wearing a Clash tee-shirt turns you down — you get your naked girls where you can. That’s how it was in the video ’80s.
Oh, and the caveat here is that Garrone — to maximize his Lira (before the Euro) — shot this back-to-back with the even more abysmal SS Women’s Camp, aka SS Camp 5: Women’s Hell (1977) — which is not to be confused with the even more awful Women’s Camp 119 (1977) by Bruno Mattei. Both of Garrone’s Nazi romps are rife with sloppy camera work, worse acting, and dubbing that makes a Godfrey Ho flick seem in-sync. Don’t get us started on Mattei’s flick!
You can purchase a copy of SS Experiment Camp as part of the “SS Hell Pack Triple Feature” disc set, which also features SS Girls, aka Private House of the SS by Bruno Mattei (1977), and Garrone’s SS Camp Women’s Hell (another of that film’s alt-titles) from Exploitation Digital on Amazon.
The racist language used by William Sanderson — yes the guy from TV’s Newhart — as he attacks a black family is probably why this movie ended up as a section 1 video nasty. I first discovered this movie thanks to Cinema Sewer, which is where I learned of many a disreputable film.
Sanderson plays Kane, a hate-fuelled racist who somehow has found it in his heart to break out with an Asian man and a Mexican fellow, so there’s that. They break into the home of kindly Ted Turner (Robert Judd, who was Scratch in the non-Britney Crossroads) and proceed to use every racist term in the book when they aren’t beating down the black family.
Director Robert A. Edelson refused to do a commentary track when this was re-released by Blue Underground but he was kind enough (I guess) to an interview in Steven Thrower’s Nightmare USA in which he re-watched the film with his maid Dorothy. So…yeah. He only made one other movie, The Filthiest Show in Town.
Much like how the old Mom and Dad theatrical showings used to divide up audiences, the marketing of this film had black and white versions, including the title Staying Alive that was just for black audiences and unique trailers for each race. There’s also a trailer that’s just a still photo with no sound at all for thirty seconds, then the title and rating. Wild.
Many of the video nasties seem quaint today, as you ask yourself, “Why did they ban this?” This is the kind of virulent piece of hate that wouldn’t even get near a screen these days. Sure, it ends up with the catharsis of seeing the criminals pay for all of the verbal and physical terror that they unleash, but man…getting there is none of the fun.
Joe Dallesandro is one of those nexus points for so many movies and parts of culture that I love. Born to a Navy man and a mother who was serving fifteen years in a federal pen for auto theft by the time he was five, Joe went from foster homes to knocking out his high school principal and stealing cars just like his mom. He got shot in the leg and when his dad took him to the hospital, the cops arrested the fifteen-year-old and sent him to the Catskills, specifically the Camp Cass Rehabilitation Center. He escaped within a few months and made it back to New York City where he went from nude modeling to being the star of Warhol’s films.
After roles in Lonesome Cowboys, Trash, Heat and Warhol’s two monster films, Joe decided to stay in Europe where he made all sorts of movies in all the sorts of genres that I love. Yeah, there’s the American TheGardener, as well as Serge Gainsbourg’s Je t’aime moi non plus, Savage Three, Killer Nun, Madness, Le Marge with Sylvia Kristel and many more. He even shows up somehow in Theodore Rex. Yes, the same man whose bulge is on the front of the Rolling Stones’ Sticky Fingers and the cover of The Smiths’ first album was in a movie about dinosaur cops.
Anyways, this is the movie that Joe, who never once gave it away, came to Italy to make with Paul Morrissey.
Baron von Frankenstein (Udo Kier) has made his sister Katrin his wife, yet ignores her as he works to create the perfect human being, going through corpses to men and women to craft his Serbian ideal. You know, when he isn’t literally having sex with the body parts of dead women while shouting, “To know death, Otto, you have to fuck life… in the gall bladder!”
He wants Nicholas (Dallesandro) to be the body for his creature, but he escapes and makes his way to the castle, where he begins to satisfy the Baroness. Once she reveals the fact that she only cares about herself, she betrays him and in return is given what she really wants: The opportunity to have sex with the Baron’s creation, who responds by loving her to death. Another even more graphic scene happens when lab assistant Otto literally screws the guts out of the female monster (Dalila Di Lazzaro, Phenomena) causing the angry Dr. Frankenstein to kill him.
I kind of dig that the end of this film echoes both A Bay of Blood and Manson’s quote about “These children that come at you with knives — they are your children” by having the Frankenstein children holding scalpels that they will either use to help or to hurt. The movie doesn’t tell you what happens next.
That A Bay of Blood comparison is easier to make when you realize that one of the kids is played by one of the adorable and murderous kids from that movie, Nicoletta Elmi. In the 70s, if you wanted a frightening Italian red-headed child, you went with Nicoletta, who also appeared in Baron Blood, Who Saw Her Die?, Deep Red and many more. She also played the red-head usher in Demons when she grew up.
Despite his name being on this film, Andy Warhol’s contributions were minimal. He may have visited the set once and looked at the editing for a brief moment. Perhaps a more involved talent was Antonio Margheriti — Anthony Dawson — who claimed to have directed some of the film. He may have just been there so that the film could claim to be Italian, as it would need a director from the country to obtain Italian nationality for the producers.
I have no idea who this section 1 video nasty was made for. It presents a world in which all of Europe feels stretched across ten city blocks, where German soldiers have Southern redneck accents and Dr. Ellen Kratsch (Macha Magall, Private House of the SS, The Daughter of Emanuelle) believes that her creation — the titular beast (Salvatore Baccaro, who used the amazing stage name of Boris Lugosi in Frankenstein’s Castle of Freaks; his IMDB acting roles are often things like “Neanderthal Man” and “Neanderthal Prisoner” and “Lupo cattivo” which means “Bad Wolf”) — can help her move upward in the German army hierarchy by assaulting female prisoners one at a time and being dosed on large quantities of Germanic Spanish Fly.
I’m not saying it’s a good plan. It’s a plan. It’s just…I have no idea how it’s scaled for success.
Also known as SS Hell Camp, SS Experiment Part 2 and Horrifying Experiments of SS Last Days, this is a movie that knows that it doesn’t have much to offer the world in terms of art, so it piles on the mayhem, like people’s fingernails being ripped clean off and a monster that seems to subsist on a diet of pubic hair.
Director Luigi Batzella started his career directing The Devil’s Wedding Night alongside one of our site’s patron saints, Joe D’Amato. He also made Nude for Satan, Kaput Lager – Gli ultimi giorni delle SS (Achtung! The Desert Tigers) and Strategia per una missione di morte. He directed this movie under the name Ivan Kathansky, which suggests the menace of Russia telling us of the doings of the last war, I guess.
Using war scenes cut from Batzella’s 1970 film Quando suona la campana (When the Bell Tolls), the lone American on hand is Brad Harris as the priest who everyone wants to either make love to or kill, but he’s too busy trying to ask God what to do. I mean, your enemies do stuff like throw babies in the air and machine-gun them as well as place rats on a woman’s stomach and then have a metal chamber heated so the rats eat through their victim. But by all means, ask God what the right thing is to do.
Unlike most of the video nasties that concentrate on sadistic sex, this one didn’t upset me because it’s just so patently ridiculous, so clumsily made and, well, so driven to entertain you by any means possible and necessary.
This Spanish revenge movie — with a Nazisploitation twist — is all about a man getting back at the bikers who killed his wife. Sounds simple? Well, there are tons of scenes that upset U.K. censors, including rape, gore, castration and nunchakus. Yes, that’s right. Not the Nazi stuff. But the nunchakus.
According to the BBFC website: “The success of Enter the Dragon, and the kung-fu genre in general, saw public concerns arise at the concurrent spread of the use of chainsticks (or nunchakus) and other martial arts weaponry among London youths. Media coverage of the issue caught the eye of Murphy’s successor as BBFC Secretary, James Ferman. In December 1979, Ferman recalled Enter The Dragon for another look in the light of these anxieties. Ferman asked the film’s distributor to remove the sight of chainsticks in the fight sequence between Bruce Lee and his attackers. The images nunchakus were also requested to be removed from the film’s trailer and its promotional posters.”
The removal of martial arts weaponry soon became standard BBFC practice with the advent of VHS bringing violent kung-fu films into the home in the early 1980s. When Enter The Dragon came out on VHS, some cuts were restored but the weaponry remained cut out, which has lasted way into the DVD and streaming eras.
That’s right — you can show guns in U.K. films, but not martial arts weapons.
Sounds legit to us.
Besides, you can’t go wrong with a film that pairs the violence with my then — and still — favorite band (next to the almighty Saxon and April Wine), Switzerland’s Krokus with “Easy Rocker” and “Celebration.” Appearing on their U.S. breakthrough album Hardware (1981), the album spawned their first U.S. Top 40 hit with “Burning Bones,” courtesy of its AC/DC-like qualities.
In fact, when formulating their next move after the death of Bon Scott, one of the first people Angus Young and the boys called in for an audition was Krokus lead singer, Marc Storace. At the time, Krokus made some headway in U.K. and U.S. with the minor hits “Heatstrokes” and “Bedside Radio” from Metal Rendezvous (1980), which were big hits throughout Europe. Storace turned them down because he felt Krokus was “going places.”
Then Black in Black (1980) — featuring Brian Johnson — shook the world. And I rented a copy of Mad Foxes after reading Krokus tunes would be in the film. It took four video stores, before I found a copy. And I was a happy, young metal pup.
You can watch the bad karate madness backed by Krokus on Tubi. You can hear April Wine tunes, by the way, in the Canadian film The Killing of Randy Webster. As for the almighty Saxon: How is it that they only made one film soundtrack appearance? “Everybody Up” (from the beginning to their downward slide; but the albums from that era grew on me over the years) from their seventh studio album Innocence is No Excuse (1985) appears on Lamberto Bava’s Demons released that same year.
About the Author: You can read the music and film reviews of R.D Francis on Medium and learn more about his work on Facebook.
Elly Kenner was born in Israel and went from working in the advertising industry and movies to creating documentaries about healing, channeling and mysticism.
Norman Thaddeus Vaine wrote the Herman’s Hermits film Mrs. Brown, You’ve Got a Lovely Daughter, as well as Lola — which has a romance between a forty-something porn writing Charles Bronson and a teen-something Susan George in which seems like the most male fantasy movie of all time* — and directed Shadow of the Hawk and Frightmare.
Together, they would make The Black Room, a movie made at the very start of the AIDS crisis and the end of the free loving 70s. The world was about to get very different. And this movie is about to get very weird.
Larry (Jimmy Stathis) has decided that married life is dragging him down, so he rents a room somewhere in the Hollywood Hills from brother and sister Bridget (Cassandra Gava, who was the sorceress who made love to Arnold in Conan the Barbarian) and Jason (Stephen Knight, Necromancy).
Jason has a rare blood disorder which means that he must constantly get blood transfusions, but perhaps he’s something more than human. After all, he and his sister have been capturing Larry’s partners and using them for their blood. And oh yeah, they’re watching him couple with them, too.
Much like the need for blood, Larry has a need to be with other women. And he loves telling his wife Robin (Clara Perryman) his fantasies while they’re in bed together and she goes along with the game until she learns that this is more than a fantasy. And now, once she discovers the secret apartment that her husband has, she rents out her own place within the mansion.
Now, she’s not getting just the stories. She’s living them with Jason. Of course, when her husband discovers what’s happening, he’s enraged that she’s giving herself to others and demands that they both stop. But can you stop taking drugs and live a normal life when you’ve had the rush of kink and secrets?
But now, Jason and Bridget are exacting their own penalty on the couple by taking their children. And even if they can die, the twosome keep returning to the dead, because as Robin wonders, “Can people like that ever die?”
Is this a furniture movie? Just look at the black room itself: black velvet curtains, wax candles burning and that table that looks like it’s glowing? Sexy, right? Well, one thing is for sure: this is a section 3 video nasty, a movie that lingers on scenes of needles and track marks and blood.
The thing is, in the hopes of getting back to the sexual life they had before kids and suburbia, our protagonists must be unwilling accessories to the murders of prostitutes, all blood for the veins of someone whose own source has become contaminated. You know, I kind of would prefer this film if it never was supernatural and was just creepy, with a brother and sister who sleep with one another suddenly dating a married couple who they drag deeper and deeper into hell.
Two more reasons to love this: an impossibly. young Linnea Quigley as the couple’s babysitter and an incredibly youthful Christopher McDonald — yes, Shooter McGavin — as the college student who watches Larry take his woman while he writes about it for his doctoral thesis because, yes, the 70s.
The copy that I found is as dark and beat up as it gets. And you know, I might love that this is how I’m watching this instead of a pristine blu ray botique reissue because I’m seeing something that so many have watched over and over, battering the original until what ended up online was the last media itself’s last gasp.
In Nightmare USA — thanks to Hidden Films for bringing this up — Vane revealed that The Black Room was based on his real life, as he cheated on his wife in his own black room with Penthouse centerfolds that he met while working at that publication. Wow, huh?
*It’s totally based on Vane’s life, as he married 16 year-old model Sarah Caldwell in the mid-1960s when he was 38.
“It should be comforting for you to know that you’ll always have a friend, here, at Love Camp 7.” — The Commandant, making the understatement of the decade
Sam the Bossman, who touched on this ’80s VHS ditty with his three part “Video Nasties” series nails it: there’s just some films that ask for it. And this Lee Frost and Bob Cresse Naziploitation affair — Frost directed and Cresse scripted with Wes Bishop — about two American female officers-agents (the large-breasted, natch, Maria Lease and Kathy Williams) going undercover in a Nazi prison camp — rightfully when straight to the front of the U.K.’s “Section 1” video nasties line.
So, how rough is this film?
Well, our Commandant (Bob Cresse) personally greets his prisoners in his office, while the women strip, are hoisted on to a table, and a female doctor slips on a glove for an “examination” — but don’t worry: it all stops just before it goes into full-on porn territory. To Frost and Creese’s credit: There is an actual story here, with plot and character development, the set design and costuming is solid, and, unlike its exploitation-offsprings, while it’s rough, Love Camp 7 isn’t rough for roughness sake. It truly is the best made — excluding Isla, She-Wolf of the SS — of the Nazisplotation films, even with its cinematographic weakness.
Yeah, I know Dr. Dalton, opinions vary down at the ol’ Cinema Road House, but the celluloid proceedings here are, still, more laughable than despairing, not all that horrifying, and utterly forgettable. Love Camp 7 was, however, a movie of its time — a time when the major studio mainstream films Valley of the Dolls (1967), Midnight Cowboy (1969), and Shampoo (1975) were slapped with X-ratings for their content about drug-pushing housewives, New York sex hustlers, and sexually-aggressive hairdressers.
So, yes, in the context against those films — which, watching these years later, are so not X-rated (to my eyes, anyway) — Love Camp 7 certainly deserves the 24th letter-branding, but when watched against the films from the ’70s “Golden Age of Porn” — films wholly deserving of their X-ratings — this Nazisplotation debut is tame in comparison. When you claim your movie is based in fact — and sadly, Jewish women were subjected to real life horrors in German interment camps and that is what makes the genre offense, on whole — you get, as Sam pointed out, what you asked for: a U.K. scarlet letter.
As with all of the films released in its wake, the women — two WAC Lieutenants who dually work as spies, but also to attempt a rescue of a female inmate: a captured aero-engineer with information regarding a cutting edge jet engine — come to discover the female inmates (in perpetual full-frontal nudity) serve as sex slaves for German officers, subjugated to various experiments, bondage, torture, and rape.
Amid the cast, keep your eyes open for exploitation stalwart Bruce Kimball . . . wow, Bruce Kimball . . . he goes back to Run, Angel, Run! (1969), Al Adamson’s Brain of Blood (1971) and Dracula vs. Frankenstein (1971), and Moonshine County Express (1977). He eventually hit the mainstream with the box office hit Rollercoaster (1977), along with appearances on TV’s CHiPs and B.J and the Bear. (Uh, yeah, we’re pretty big Bruce Kimball fans around here.)
Love Camp 7 rightfully earned its cult classic status in the exploitation realms for inspiring two, very hot genres in the drive-in and grindhouse cinema ’70s: women-in-prison flicks and Nazisploitation films.
The former genre — which dates to the rock ‘n’ roll bad girl romps Reform School Girl (1957) and High School Hellcats (1958), flourished in the ’70s courtesy of Lee Frost’s own hit, Chain Gang Women (1971), and the Pam Grier-starring hits Women in Cages (1971) and The Big Bird Cage (1972), and then continued into the VHS ’80s with the Wendy O. Williams-starring Reform School Girls (1986) and the Grim Reaper song-fronted (“Lust for Freedom,” “Rock You to Hell“) Lust for Freedom (1987) — could be a B&S theme week in itself.
The latter genre began with this first, iconic film in the Nazisploitation cycle of films centered around WWII concentration camps populated by incarcerated women. The genre achieved its nadir — or zenith, depending one’s perspective — with Love Camp 7 actor David F. Friedman producing the superior Isla: She-Wolf of the SS (1974), which starred the divine Dyanne Thorne (Point of Terror) that led to a series of Thorne-starring sequels. That birthed the Mario Caiano-directed and Sirpa Lane-starring (The Beast in Space) not-a-sequel Nazi Love Camp 27 (1977) and the (recently reviewed; look for it) fellow U.K. nasty, Gestapo’s Last Orgy (1977). In fact, many films released in the backwash of Love Camp 7 each had titles or alternate titles deploying the verbiage of “Love” or “Camp.”
Director Lee Frost amassed 30-plus directing credits in his career; his most “commercial” achievement — again, depending one’s perspective regarding nadirs and zeniths — was his genre-pollination of the Blaxploitation and Nazisploitation genres with The Black Getaspo (1975) and more so with the Warren Oates hicksploitation romp Dixie Dynamite (1976). However, if you’re a loyal hound of the video fringe, you’ve picked up Frost’s (we’ll always watch William Smith) bikesplotation slopper Chrome and Hot Leather (1971), and the cheapjack Frankenstein-inspired rip The Thing with Two Heads (1972).
Writer Bob Cresse — best know for his ’60s “Mondo” films and exploitation pieces, such as Mondo Bizarro (1966), produced with Lee Frost and Freidman — faded from the “mainstream” business after Love Camp 7. As the “Golden Age of Porn” matured, they each moved into the lucrative adult film realms, but Frost returned to the mainstream, somewhat, with the Jack Starrett-directed and Peter Fonda-starring drive-in hit, Race with the Devil (1975).
Shot in muddy-to-grainy 35-mm — that looks like it’s 16-mm, which isn’t a good sign — and burdened by obvious stock shots, narrative-threading voice overs, dialog by actors not seen-on-screen (Who’s talking; Where are they?), wide shots with no coverage; no medium shots or close-ups or reverses, you’re left thinking your watching a Larry Buchanan (Mistress of the Apes, Down on Us) production. And those English-accented Germans — ugh — are straight out of a Hogan’s Heroes episode.
Due to the trailer’s content, you can only view it upon an account sign-in at Grindhouse Theatre’s You Tube portal. You can free stream the full film of Love Camp 7 at the Full Moon Archive (Thank you, Mr. Band, the VHS ’80s wouldn’t have been the same without you!), but it is also readily available on various pay-streaming platforms. You can learn more about Love Camp 7 as part of the insightful genre documentary Fascism on a Thread: The Strange Story of Nazisploitation Cinema (2020).
About the Author: You can read the music and film reviews of R.D Francis on Medium and learn more about his work on Facebook.
Made under the title Bad Scene, the British cuts to this movie took out fifteen minutes of footage, taking the film’s total down to under an hour. I can completely imagine what they cut, as this movie has multiple assault scenes that last so long that they become an actual assault on the viewer.
Two girls named Nancy and Kathy (Laurel Canyon and Candy Sweet) are on their way home when their car breaks down, which leads to them getting attacked by drug-addled hippies, soon followed by a Satanic cult who also abuses them and then plans on killing them. That’s it, that’s the movie. Some movies push past the actual act of sexual violence and concentrate on the revenge or the escape, but this one and done by director Ray Williams.
So once the cult kidnaps them, you’d think that the cops would find them or get invovled, right? No because now we move to another story where a female heroin addict is kidnapped, assaulted and sent to Mexico before the cops forget Nancy and Kathy and rescue her.
There’s a biker named Crabs because he has crabs. This is utter garbage and not in the right way. I have no idea who thought they could release this movie in the UK in the early 80s and it kind of makes every other movie in the section 3 video nasty category look positively classy and well-made by comparison. Horrible.