celebrity love island.

Another busy day of work, another repost of a quality Joe D'Amato 'classic' (I'm blaming that Evil Sex Trap nonsense).

You can think what you like tho, I'll admit to having a soft spot for Le Notti Erotiche Dei Mort Viventi, it was one of those movies that always sat at the back of your 'nasties' cupboard when you were 15 (alongside the Malcolm McDowell masterpiece Caligula and Mad Foxes).

The 80's: That's how we all dressed.

It disappeared from my collection during one of my frequent moves during the late 80's but bizarrely enough a few yearss ago my dear father sent a DVD copy to me as a present (alongside a copy of the Anime series Sex Friend which he'd mistakenly purchased thinking it was called Sex Fiend but I digress) and the poor review has been sitting alone and unloved way back in the 2007 section.
 
So, let's revisit those heady days of Pop Will Eat Itself, Red Stripe in cans, starchy school uniforms and dodgy Marc Almond haircuts.....


Le Notti Erotiche Dei Mort Viventi (AKA Erotic Nights Of The Living Dead 1980)
Dir: Joe D'Amato
Cast: Laura Gemser, George Eastman, Mark Shannon, Dirce Funari.

The plot (what there is of it) goes thusly.....

A salty Oirish seadog Captain 'amazing' Larry O'Hara (played by the half man half giant sweat gland that is D'Amato regular George Eastman wearing Al Cliver's beard and Auretta Gaye's breasts) takes a big moustached, 'sexy' American businessman/playboy/STD riddled sex tourist Mr. John Wilson (yes, the Man in Haini's Fantasy from Orgasmo Nero himself, Mark Shannon) and his 'girlfriend' Fiona (the fantastically named Dirce Funari from D'Amato's Porno Holocaust) to visit the remote island of Matoul (snigger) where the businessman is planning to build an exclusive holiday resort (presumably for big moustachioed playboys to have sex).

"Are you looking at my bra?"

After Much on deck shagging, drinking, comparing of man breasts and such-like they arrive at the island to be met by a spookily sexy voodoo lady (and I don't mean maybe) Luna (Gemser, ask your mum) and her bony old dad Geoff.

After a bit more sex (involving Gemser but not the old man unluckily) the trio are warned that the island is cursed and bad things (not including 70's style 'sexiness' and herpes) are going to occur if they don't scarper sharpish.

You see, this is an island of the dead and they don't take kindly to property developers disturbing their sleep (either by building or having sex a lot).

"Excuse me I appear to have accidentally stuck my cock in you".

After a bit (well a lot) more sex (this time involving Eastman and Funari then Gemser and Funari, bloody hell she should be knackered!), some character driven tension and a nice use of a fog machine and blue lenses the dead do indeed rise from the grave....intent on ridding the island of these kinky interlopers....

Phwoooaaarrr!!!

It's then that the movie goes a wee bit strange (which seeing as it earlier had a woman opening bottle of Champagne with her fanny is saying something)....Gemser turns into a cat (or a child's cuddly toy I can't really tell) and back again before biting Mark Shannon's cock off (well he really shouldn't leave it dangling about like that).

Eastman meanwhile runs into the water (giving us a chance to see his huge hairy nipples rubbing against his wet vest) screaming then runs out again and Funari sobs a lot.

After a while the zombies (all wearing huge nappies) kill them.

The end.

"Big Issue mate?"

Like his other genre buggering crossover gem Porno Holocaust (the two films were shot in the same Dominican Republic locations with only minor variations in cast and crew due to Tetanus jabs being required), it's difficult to see who D'Amato was aiming this film at (present company excepted).

The usual porn brigade are no doubt going to be put off by the scenes of undead induced violence whilst your everyday horror fan is probably not going to want to see Mark Shannon's wart-infested scrotum, taking it's place centre stage and in widescreen glory.

Possibly.

Is this a rare an example of the unsung genius that is D'Amato sneakily toying with the porn crowds enjoyment?

Probably not but it would be nice to think so.

"What's for tea?" "Fish fingers!"

Yet, despite all the crap shags, woeful performances and the aforementioned sight of Eastman's girlfriend opening a bottle of Champagne with her vagina, the Matoul scenes are steeped with a genuinely nightmarish atmosphere thanks to D'Amato's moody, if sometimes zoomtastic, cinematography.

Marcello Giombini's eerie score is suitably, um, eerie and the 'exotic' Laura Gemser is always worth a mention.

If not a quick hand shandy every now and then, especially if you're watching her fitness video.

Or so my dad says.

There is even the odd spooky scene along the way, as when Shannon, sceptical of the zombie curse, throws away a protective talisman only to see it transform into a cat as it hits the sand.

Pity this can't be said about the later scenes of zombies dropping from trees tho....

"Warty cock in mah exotic mooth!"

For all it's faults and uncomfortable moments of ugly warts, sagging arses and lopsided breasts (stand up and be counted Ms. Funari) Le Notti Erotiche Dei Mort Viventi comes across (quite literally) as the bastard, inbred offspring of Fulci's Zombi 2 and Jess Franco's Nightmares Come at Midnight with a wee bit of Ferdinando Di Leo's Klaus Kinski starrer Asylum Erotica thrown in - or up - for good measure obviously, I mean if you're going to steal steal from the best.

Plus it's slightly funnier than D'Amato's Emanuelle and the Last Cannibals (and with less arse obsessed subplots) and a damn sight more erotically charged than Sophie's Choice.

And that isn't really such a bad thing if you think about it.