Page 19 - Alternative Europe Eurotrash and Exploitation Cinema Since 1945
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in  this  volume  does  not  always  campaign  for  politically correct  perspectives.  But  at  the very least  it
                seems to  be championing,  almost anarchically,  a call for liberty.  It is  that call  that  ultimately makes
                alternative European cinema worthwhile.
                OVERVIEWING  THE  EXTREMES  OF  EXPLOITATION  AND  UNDERGROUND  CINEMA
                The first chapter that exemplifies the borders around underground and exploitation cinema is on one
                of the  most  reviled cycles  in  European  exploitation  cinema. This  is  addressed  in Mikel J.  Koven's
                chapter  '"The  Film You Are About  to  See  is  Based on  Fact":  Italian  Nazi  Sexploitation  Cinema.
                Although  the  Nazi  sexploitation  movie  would  seem  unashamedly  commercial  and  cynical  in  its
                titillating  depiction  of German  wartime  atrocities,  Koven's  analysis  reveals  a  fluidity  between  high
                art  and  popular  film  patterns  in  this  field,  replicating a  dynamic  that  exists  in  wider  patterns  of the
                alternative European domain. As the author notes, the Nazi sexploitation  film  in fact consists of two
                related cycles: those which outline the decadent sexual tendencies of the Third Reich, and a separate
                sub-genre  based  around  the  sexual  humiliation  of concentration  camp  inmates.  For  Koven,  both
                of these  controversial  cycles  frequently  slide  between  alternative  (high  art)  and  exploitation  (mass
                cultural formats) in a complex set of cultural and historical interchanges that often remains ignored by
                critics of the cycle.  For instance,  the author offers a comparative study of Liliana Cavani s  art-house'
                work  The Night Porter (which  explores  the sadomasochistic  relations  between  a  fugitive Nazi  guard
                and his former,  female prisoner)  and Cesare Canevari's  'exploitation'  film  The Gestapo's Last Orgy.
                Although  these  two  films  sit across  the presumed  'legitimate'  vs.  'exploitation'  divide,  they follow a
                similarly  'extreme'  thematic  trajectory  in  their  accounts  of the  links  between  human  desire,  sexual
                power and humiliation.  For the author,  where the two  films  differ is  in  their formal  structure:  while
                Cavani's  film  offers multiple flashbacks around differing perspectives on  the couple's  concentration
                camp  love affair,  Canevari's  film  uses  a past-tense structure  merely to  motivate a revenge tactic  that
                unwinds  in  its  closing scenes.  While  this  may suggest  that such  structural  differences do  reiterate a
                high  art/exploitation  cinema  division  of formal  complexity,  Koven  notes  that  the  more  'debased'
                variants  of the  cycle  do  offer  an  interesting  'exploitation'  of historical  events  as  they  relate  to  Nazi
                power  and  sexual  ideology.  For  instance,  he  argues  that  Canevari's  film  offers  an  explicit  reading
                of Rassenschande (or 'racial shame')  in  its contorted 'orgy numbers'  between SS guards and Jewish
                prisoners.  Equally,  the author picks out Sergio Garrone's infamous video nasty SS Experiment Camp
                as providing an intriguing study of the way in which respected Jewish surgeons were exploited by Nazi
                medics as part of their experiments into racial difference.

                  While  Koven  analyses  a cycle often  seen  as  too  controversial  to  legitimise within  the academy,
                I.  Q.  Hunter  argues  that  even  obscure  and  aesthetically  flawed  European  exploitation  films  tell
                us  something  about  the  cultures  they  are  part  of  and  born  from.  In  the  chapter  'Deep  Inside
                Queen  Kong. Anatomy of an Extremely Bad  Film',  Hunter considers  Frank Agrama's  1970s  British
               exploitation comedy starring Robin Askwith (as Ray Fay) and Rula Lenska (as Luce Habit, a feminist
               filmmaker). The author first analyses the film's obvious commentary on gender:  Kong is female,  the
               damsel  in  distress  is  male - and carries  a  macho  template  as Askwith  is  best  known  for  his  sexual
               (and sexist) opportunism in Confessions of a Window Cleaner, and the filmmaker (pun on her name


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