When meeting new people, I have a few things I'm tempted to clear the air on early . I like to think I'm a decent guy, but some things about me might drive a wedge through future interaction, and I would like to get it out in the open to avoid any heartache . Nothing criminal, but these things can change relationships--so the earlier, the better, as far as I'm concerned. That way, they can start creating distance if it's too much for them. Essentially, this boils down to blurting out some facts about my personality that give the listener a glimpse into my psyche. I'll give you a few examples. For one, I fucking love the movie Hackers (1995) in a non-ironic way. I can't count the times I have seen it, and my life was planned around the near-future I was promised by it in the 90s. People should know this about me if they choose to get close. I also own toys. Not in a manly way, like a lifted truck, gun or four-wheelers. I’m talking about action figures--and what's more, I open them. I'm not going to state that I still play with them publicly , but let's just say they are no longer mint. Another would be the fact that I have, and will again, watched entire videos considered porn without masturbating (on purpose). That one might create more questions than answers for the average media consumer (and maybe a "duh" from trash aficionados). All the same, it sets an excellent standard base for future revelations. I have learned through trial and error that some of the cinema I consume is a little more urm…erotic-ish than your average viewers. I completely understand that declaring this is a gamble and probably invokes visions of me casually watching blowbangs with my TV dinner, but it could pay off big in the long run. If they end up sticking around after that, it will be all the less awkward when this potential pal walks in in me watching Porno Holocaust.

After reports of oversized critters along the coast, due to some irresponsible weapon testing in the fifties, a group of researchers is dispatched to the site for answers. However, before any of them can make the trip, everyone needs to take turns trading bodily fluids and discussing the inner workings of chemical warfare's bureaucracy. After all the bases are covered, the group of intellectuals arrives on the remote island location to begin work. Unfortunately for the party, they can hardly get any groping in because very soon, one of them is violently attacked by a mysterious humanoid creature and drowns in the ocean. Shit only goes downhill from there as it's more than just the island's crabs that have grown to monstrous sizes from the fallout, and the members of the research team aren’t the only ones around with sex on the brain. Will they make it out alive and with a new understanding of man's effect on the world, or will they all fall victim to the beach-mutant with the nuclear super cancer-inducing dick?

So let's get this out of the way if the clues didn't clarify already. There is some "hardcore" in this one, as in--it contains penetration. Actually, there is more than "some." In fact, it is the main component, along with a variety of other uncensored acts. Like any functional "erotic" feature, much of the story is a clear cut path to naked-time. This means, despite an island full of oversized mutants being involved, more focus is given to sex. Conversations, situations, and basic logic are all distorted in order to achieve this goal without much masking. This theme carries over to the monster as well, who uses his member as a biological weapon, among other things. Underneath all that shameless sleaze, there is the malformed skeleton along the lines of an unofficial "Zombi" sequel. Only poking through so often, is an interesting blend of Godzilla science and Italian zombie tropes that begs for fleshing out, despite the fact that there is little time for those aspects and a lot of hairy humping to be had. Our horny-ass heroes are purported to be professional researchers, but act more like rich assholes on vacation. They like to tell others about their titles and pedigree, but other than that,they can be found kicking back catching some rays, drinking, and of course, boning. There's an excess to the plot, partly because it spends seventy-something slimy minutes shuttling to the radiated island of doom. The story has many leisurely discussions to cover before getting to its sadistic mutant, and the drama is mostly forgotten after it does. It has the ramp-up of a teen horror/thriller from the 90s, giving you a spiderweb of social complications before all goes to hell, and it doesn't matter anymore. In this case however, instead of keeping it PG-13, everyone gets naked and bloodied in extreme ways, sometimes concurrently.

I don't have to squint to see the horror flakes in the story, even as it shoves strange routes to nudity down my throat. It's fun to pick up the film's canon in these chunks. Pulled together they make a complete thought, which is more than I can say for a fair amount of both the film genres, respectively. I enjoy the fact that writer/star George Eastman filled a script with enough basic horror and science fiction, knowing that it was going to be part of rushed smut. Having said that, the film is almost devoid of real-life human characters that make any sense. This goes double for the females in the film, who seem to be completely insane even by porn standards. Though I wouldn't call him the hero, Eastman's Dr. Lemoir is the most coherent, logical character and takes the focus whenever on screen. He could almost be from another story, or an artifact from an early form of the tale leftover during its evolution. Either way, he's a badass, and something like Indiana Jones, only if wolves raised him instead of Sean Connery. The monster with the nuclear penis (aka mud mask wearing guy) is pretty scary, if only because he is really chill while it's all going on. It's as if he just murdered a boat-full of victims an hour before, and he's kind of bored of killing people with his penis. For whatever reason, naked serial rapists only get creepier the more nonchalant they are. Not that the whole giant superpowered monster-dick thing isn't unsettling by itself, but even though it's an earlier example, that gag is old hat in the modern day (what, you don't see weaponized genitalia on a regular basis?). It all boils together into a sweaty, runny, paste packed with shock value, cojones (literally and figuratively), and several flavors of fucking. I don't love all the ingredients in the hot and spicy mystery meat, but I've eaten it a few times and haven't died yet.

The quality is all over the place, jumping from intentional creative flair to broken b-roll footage. There are drastic changes in camerawork throughout, even between back to back shots. One angle can bring subtle additions to a scene with objects in the scant rooms, and within seconds it could be paired with a blurred unfocused cut as if the camera has been shoved, unmanned, into the ceiling. Notably, a majority of the porn is shot with a significant amount of care, which stands out against the shaky POV run through the jungle that follows it. Also, these long portions of the film seem to have purposeful lighting and show off a special touch for color pallets. This quality is also apparent in a few sexless segments as well, but almost at random. Arguably, the grimy sets and beautiful locale work to complete the strange contrasting mood the content cultivates. Whether purposeful or not, every lovemaking showcase takes place in sparse, squat-like bedrooms while all the violence goes down on beautiful beaches, scattering the moods into a mean spirited theme. It shows up almost too late, but the corny splatter has some commendable gruesome ideas behind it. The "monster" is the biggest letdown, it just looks like a dude with mud on his face wearing a giant custom cock-sock. Actually,It's all pretty fucking corny, but once started, the momentum for gore and unsavory acts builds quickly. The practical effects aren't ever top-shelf, but the blood and guts are just overboard enough at points to get the job done. A blend of percussion, chorus humming, and some retro porn scores make up the soundtrack by Nico Fidenco . Although it is notably absent from some scenes and repetitive in others, the music is a highlight for me. For some reason, the best tunes in the movie pop up in throwaway scenes. Not that it doesn't work in each case, but it's a little puzzling when later there are twenty musicless minutes of naked people on a beach. On the whole, the technical level is what you would expect for rough pornography, save for the out of place, elevated cinematography and a grabbag of gruesome effects. You could fast forward to the silly grindhouse horror fun and probably be okay, but then you would miss out on some good jams as well as a few great professor Eastman speeches.

While not what I imagined from the title, Porno Holocaust is what it says on the box, only with a more heavily weighted "porno" side. Simply, it succeeds to be shocking trash with a beautiful backdrop and excess hairy ball slapping shots. I can't, in good conscience, recommend the excursion to mutant-rape island, but if you take that ride, you will laugh, cringe in the most traditional sense, and maybe look away once or twice out of shameful confusion. If any of that sounds exciting, strap in for a maze of well-shot smut and "research" with a cheap gooey center of carnage. It's not sexy or scary, just fucked up and relentless in its mission to be lowbrow, demented entertainment, which is fun. So if you walk in on me one day and I'm watching Porno Holocaust, don't feel like you're interrupting anything. I have trouble eating a Hot Pocket while it is on, let alone masturbating.

1h 53min | 1981

Director: Joe D'Amato

Writer: George Eastman





Links:











