In this blog I will be reviewing some of my favourite films from the era I love the most, the turn of the 1970s.
What made those few years so special? The rolling back of censorship brought in a tidal wave of violence, sex and sleaze, and never a shortage of directors and actresses eager to drench themselves within it. Ambition flourished, ability seldom kept pace. Often intentions were sincere, almost naïve, and this gave even some of the lowest works a certain undeniable charm. Sadly as the 1980s drew near this atmosphere was to descend into one of cynicism and, even worse, irony.
Perhaps the finest examples of this golden age of excess came from Italy. But alongside the acclaimed, almost respectable masters such as Argento and Bava there flourished the strange journeyman-genius of the likes of Polselli and Pannacciò.
It's this wild, inept, sometimes demented cinema that fascinates me the most.
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