MALABIMBA: THE MALICIOUS WHORE

Combining the atmospheric dark beauty of the traditional Italian Gothic with the exploitative fervour of 1970s exploitation, Malabimba is an inspired and fetishistic hybrid of various genre conventions. Equal parts Nunsploitation and scathing psychological parable, this Exorcist inspired Midnight Movie evokes the primal wonder inherent in demonology while celebrating the excess of sex and violence. While not as visually effective as Beyond the Door, and lacking the emotional resonance of the US hits on which the Italian devil sub-genre was so obviously based, Andrea Bianchi's nightmare of sordid perversion is raw and organic, celebrating perverted ideals and relationships to a surprising degree. Revelling in various acts of sexual depravity, Bianchi weaves in this ode to exorcism and taboo a testament to the power of film to entice even while it disturbs. A feisty success of unapologetic sensationalism, this story manages to disturb emotionally as well as visually, coating its provoking moments of sexual outrage and blasphemy with just enough spiritual context (and moral outrage) to keep the mind as busy as the physical senses. Fearless Severin Films, champions of neglected, confrontational exploitation and horror movies, presents this pornographic flesh and blood show in a stunning new transfer, bringing to light as never before the film's unique orgy of sin, skin, and moral abandonment.

A powerful if simplistic story whose narrative attacks its aesthetic goals head on with a minimum of subtlety or side-stepping, Malabimba: The Devil's Whore is as honest and brazen -- and as basic -- as its title suggests. Revolving around precisely what its title states, this ode to The Exorcist and its countless Occult/possession follow ups (many of which were Italian), follow in that sub-genre's creative footsteps, giving more gore and blasphemy -- more violence and sadism -- for your buck. When a séance makes possible the infiltration of a demonic force into the lives of an unsuspecting family, young sexpot Bimba (Katell Laennec) is possessed by an unholy force. Becoming the Devil's plaything, she calls Grandma a filthy whore at dinner, grabs every penis she can find, and quickly becomes violent. The family, concerned about her condition, try to balance looking after her and the rich owner of their castle, the paralyzed Adolfo, crippled by a previous stroke. Adding intrigue and suspicion to the demonic activity are the attempts of each relative to win the family fortune when the time is ripe: the matriarch Countess Karoly wants her second-eldest son Andrea, widower to Bimba's mother Lucrezia, to marry Adolfo's wife Nais while Andrea himself is surprisingly honorable, casting the slut Nais to his weakling brother Giorgio (Got all that? Whew!). The family's assorted malfunctions, scheming, and sexual perversions grow alongside Bimba's worsening possession, now manifesting itself in increasingly violent and sexual ways. Along the way we're attacked by such unapologetic displays of filth as filthy nuns, Bimba grabbing her father's crotch while kissing him, and of course the obligatory masturbating.

If lacking the visual daring, thematic sincerity, or directorial style of either a Mario Bava or Dario Argento, and not as effective merging the sordid thrills of graphic violence with cynical philosophy as was Lucio Fulci, Malamimba manages to tell a decidedly cruel, scandalous story with a maximum of exploitative effect. Daring to push the limits of both thematic stability and visual acceptance, this sexually charged, mean spirited assault against religious convention, moral principles, and audience expectations is as adventurous as it is devastating. Never taking the time or effort to develop the depth of character (or the complexity of plot) achieved by the Italian classics (many of which are attributed to the Golden Era, when suggestive and atmospheric supernatural terrors held sway), this picture is steeped in outrage and cum. Casting caution to the wind, director Andrea Bianchi mirrors a broad, largely defined story with performances and effects just as colorful. Terror and sheer raunch share the stage, with the raw pleasures of sex, masochism, sadism, and blasphemy dripping from the celluloid. This is NOT a subtle, character motivated film. While the major personas are competently developed enough so that the story can move to its downbeat, salacious conclusion, they -- and the plot in general -- are clearly make-shift figures in which to drape memorable scenes of shocking sexual depravity. These purely physical scenes of lust and violence are mirrored by emotional states of characters just as disturbing. Likewise, the moral implications of the possession story are easily as dismaying as the politically incorrect madness that transpire. More tasteless than either Burial Ground or Strip Nude For Your Killer combined, Malabimba's first goal is to exploit such primal emotions as terror, arousal, and repulsion. In this it is an absolute success. An underground, underrated hybrid of horror and pornography, both the sex and fear are raw and unrefined, lending the picture a closer relationship to sordid realism. Not so much entertaining as it is shocking, the sex scenes are truly 'dirty,' lacking anything even slightly resembling love or emotional attachment. The sex, like the horror, is animalistic and reattached, crafted to disturb not to arouse. Truly the 'malicious whore' of the title, Bimba's occult evil is mirrored by the all-too-human pettiness, greed, and hunger of her family. Creating a world where there is no innocence, director Bianchi's film attacks us with all the disturbing rawness of rape -- precisely what his nihilistic nightmare set out to do.

Who would have though just a decade ago that we would ever see the day when ANYONE would pour such lavish technical devotion and expense into such a guilty pleasure as this ghoulish gang bang?! The later years of the DVD revolution do us proud with this one, as Malabimba -- a balls-to-the-wall splatter flick of blasphemy, incest, and possession -- is treated with the same devotion as a Criterian release! The print is in surprisingly good condition here, re-mastered in anamorphic 1.85:1 widescreen. This is nothing less than a revelation for those of us who had only caught this flick via the grey market. Gone are many of the lines, splotches, and watered down features of these boot-legged tapes, replaced by a sharp host of colors, fine picture detail, and no noticeable grain. Note: It should be pointed out that the extra footage included on this disc is less sterling, taken from a VHS source. Audio is featured in Dolby Digital mono in Italian with optional English subs, and while suffering slight hissing, is free from any truly bothersome defects.

Extras are exciting, including an "Integral Version" of Malabimba: The Malicious Whore, wherein about ten extra moments of footage are included. While these in no significant manner add to the plot, their inclusion of T&A and bad taste are appreciated. Also included are surprisingly informative and honest interviews with actress Mariangela Giordano and cinematographer Franco Villa, a Theatrical Trailer, and Deleted Scenes.

Review by William P. Simmons