Kitty runs a brothel in Nazi Germany where the soldiers come to "relax". Recording devices have been installed in each room by a power hungry army official who plans to use the information ... See full summary »
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Kitty runs a brothel in Nazi Germany where the soldiers come to "relax". Recording devices have been installed in each room by a power hungry army official who plans to use the information to blackmail Hitler and gain power himself. A girl named Margherita discovers the little ploy and with Kitty's help plans to take on the dangerous task of exposing the conspiracy. Written by
Josh Pasnak <firstname.lastname@example.org>
When the general orders the prostitute to put on his boots, she slips them on after taking off only one of her shoes. The shoe she is unfastening also changes from one foot to the other between shots. See more »
Of all the sordid, exploitative Nazi-era cash-ins that came out of the 1970s, "Salon Kitty" is one of the most regularly-mentioned titles. Director Tinto Brass (who, like Joe D'Amato, is more renowned for his porno epics) spends a great deal of time--arguably 3/4 of the film--garnishing the screen with images of decadent excess, including bizarre sex acts, deformed dwarfs, and copious nudity. Unfortunately, that's really all this shallow, 2-hours-plus venture has to offer. The story line--consisting of a young Nazi commandant (the underused Helmut Berger)'s attempt to seize power by eavesdropping on the SS patrons of the titular character's high-class brothel--would take up all of 30 minutes' screen time (and even that is a stretch) had the exploitation elements been removed. What we're left with, then, is a slickly-made trash pic with high production values, a good cast, and an insufferably drawn-out story (I challenge anyone to still give a damn by the time the film reaches its 'revelatory' crescendo); Brass's attempts at prurient titillation, an underdeveloped (and ultimately pointless) romantic subplot, and the fearless courage of icily unlikable prostitute Margherita (Teresa Ann Savoy) fall completely flat, much to the film's detriment. While not as luridly exploitative as the "Ilsa" trilogy, nor as lethargically dull as Luchino Visconti's "The Damned," "Salon Kitty" never really manages the suspense, pathos, and passion that marked Liliana Cavani's superior 1974 post-Holocaust romance, "The Night Porter." It's a film that should have been much more than just a ponderously average pile of celluloid.
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