"Nothing invented by the human mind can be as macabre, grotesque, and thrilling as the behavior of people in so called 'real life'." Classily recited by a paycheck-receiving Boris Karloff (who never appears on screen), this turn of phrase embodies the key issue with both this film and the mondo genre as a whole.
If these trash-melanges are the points of reference then each entry into the series overwhelmingly proves that thesis. But one cannot hold these films to such a standard, despite the stressing of the "This is our world" theme buffed by the opening song "Our World" by crooner Andy Badale. No, this is not "our world" in the least. This is mondo reality, a staged re-telling of what Italian directors believe subversive "real life" could resemble sprinkled with legitimate documentary tidbits of African tribesman taking down an elephant with a spear barrage. The mondo film is a difficult nut to crack using traditional critical thinking. There is often no logic to them, they jump from clip to clip aggressively disregarding whatever overarching theme was agreed upon at the outset. 27-inch Franz Drago spins, tumbles and wails his classic singer imitations and immediately we are thrust into assorted Italian Hercules epics for some reason (probably as complex as "we have this, so..."). It's an odds 'n ends assortment that can be fascinating in the chaos. Suspiciously Italian looking Sheiks of Saudi Arabia sternly ogle women performing a ritual courtship dance with American tourists, later offering one a prostitute in a rear tent. We travel there in a tracking shot. Whisked away suddenly to a barren set with high key lighting, Karloff informs us that "most artists are male or female only so far as their birth certificate claims" while effeminate men and butch women maniacally gyrate. They are gay you see! A macabre world!
The titillation factor to get dimpled asses in jizz-membraned seats evaporates entirely for the second half hour of our feature. No longer do we bear witness to a "normal" man cavorting with a dwarven prostitute (we see them kiss!). Mondo Balordo asks us to get serious for a minute and take in footage of the Berlin Wall in all its barbed glory. A fluke I'm sure since this is truly amazing footage (in brilliant color!) of a frightening structure and a snapshot of history we are rarely privileged enough to view outside of Ronald Reagan punching down the wall brick by brick with his android fists. We are asked to examine our own luxuries and complacence in the face of tyranny. Actual pathos in a mondo film is an incomparable luxury .
The titillation factor to get dimpled asses in jizz-membraned seats evaporates entirely for the second half hour of our feature. No longer do we bear witness to a "normal" man cavorting with a dwarven prostitute (we see them kiss!). Mondo Balordo asks us to get serious for a minute and take in footage of the Berlin Wall in all its barbed glory. A fluke I'm sure since this is truly amazing footage (in brilliant color!) of a frightening structure and a snapshot of history we are rarely privileged enough to view outside of Ronald Reagan punching down the wall brick by brick with his android fists. We are asked to examine our own luxuries and complacence in the face of tyranny. Actual pathos in a mondo film is an incomparable luxury . Of course this is followed by puppy surgery and Arab women using camel piss to bleach their hair. Mondo, don't you ever change on me.
On-Screen Animal Death Tally:
- Zebra (by lions)
- Elephant (by white sniper + African natives)
- Sea Turtles (sliced open by island tribe)
- Chicken (skinned)
Stay classy forgotten genre.
Purchase Here in a double feature set with Primitive Love!