Also known as Diamonds of Kilimandjaro and The Treasure of the White Goddess, this trip through the libido and madness of Jess Franco finds a diamond treasure — Jess loves diamonds almost as much as showing you the love of his life’s lady parts in zoomtastic details — and a lost white girl amongst the natives — naked, unafraid, with a pet monkey and all of 16 years old, as Katja Bienert was way too young to be in one of his movies at this point.
Filled with stock footage, an editing error that shows the same scene twice, a scene where the crew can be seen — another Franco trademark? — and as always, Franco had already made this movie kinda sorta as White Cannibal Queen, so if you’ve watched more than fifty of his movies in fourteen days — do not walk the left hand path I have stepped down — it all starts to blend together.
Katja’s dad leads the tribe, by the way, and he’s Scottish because he wears skirts and plays bagpipes and only leaves his room for whiskey. He’s also composer Daniel White, who for some reason decided that this movie needed bongos and synth, which is probably half right and all wrong.
Look, if you’ve never seen a Franco movie or want someone to watch one with you, don’t make it this one. Actually, if you’ve succeeded in life enough to have someone that wants to share movies with you, don’t screw it up. I mean, I can’t even think of what Franco movie to show them. Venus In Furs? That’s probably the best one, but it’s still deranged. So is Vampyros Lesbos. Still, if you find someone who’ll sit for 80 minutes of bad editing, landscape shots, tree swinging and Lina Romay in old woman makeup, you’ve won life.