WOMEN'S FLESH: MY RED GUTS (JAPAN/1999/TAMAKICHI ANARU)

A relic of the Japanese craze for extreme video nasties in the 1980s, Women’s Flesh: My Red Guts eschews any notion of plot, instead displaying the slow, painful suicides of two mentally disturbed women. The film opens with a series of overexposed stills of the deceased women, presumably from a coroner’s camera, although the content of the photos implies an inappropriate sexual fascination with them. We then see the first woman attacking herself with a toothbrush, as if taken over by some demonic force. She then runs a knife around her mouth before slicing through her tongue. The second woman, sat against a black curtain, sits distracted before slowly committing hara-kiri. Hazy black and white interludes add scant detail to the women’s emotional deterioration.

While there have previously been intellectual cinematic explorations into sado-masochistic practices, Women’s Flesh disturbingly appears to be designed solely for thrills and, quite terrifyingly, is not the most extreme feature by infamous director Tamakichi Anaru. Nothing in the film suggests the viewer’s need to ‘understand’ or empathise with these women, their actions little more than a graphic display. Though utterly abhorrent in its themes and purpose, the film is at least interesting for its extremely lo-fi shooting style. VHS artefacts make each image difficult to make out, while a soundtrack of noise and electronic blips adds a supernatural element to the proceedings. Far too pointlessly morbid and puerile to warrant attention, Women’s Flesh is a bewildering bit of VHS-era gore designed merely to shock and disgust.

THUNDERCRACK! (USA/1975/CURT MCDOWELL)

We start this absurdist comedy in the bedroom of Gert Hammond. Heavily inebriated, Gert potters about her room in a state, talking to herself. When a woman named Willene knocks on the door asking for help, Gert tearfully rushes through her make-up and lets her in. Despite her apparently panicked state before entering, Willene decides that she simply must bathe the tousled Gert, and winds up masturbating her in the process. These events set a precedent for the rest of the evening, as several other strange guests invite themselves into the house. The group’s conversation quickly turns to sexual matters, as one man discusses his wife’s horrific death while being fellated by another guest. As some of the guests venture around Gert’s house, they uncover secrets from her past, and the evening takes a turn for the more sinister.

While quite unique in several respects, combining aimless non sequiturs with hardcore scenes, Thundercrack! is not as valuable as it should be. Whereas other underground films transcend their technical shortcomings with charm and character, this one struggles to engage its audience beyond voyeurism. Though the first act sets a promising tone, the film quickly transforms into a brain-dead version of Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf. There are rare flashes of brilliance, but the film is so technically inept as to erase any doubt that they were unintentional. Sterile and unimaginative, this jagged sex comedy misses the camp idiosyncrasies of George Kuchar’s other works, and is far too long at 158 minutes.

WILD SCENES (PAKISTAN/2008/AKRAM ZADIQ)

Exploring the more sordid side of the Pashto film industry, Wild Scenes talks with some of Pakistan’s best known actors and filmmakers, as well as some devout religious dissenters. The ‘wild scenes’ in question are soft-porn sequences in which female dancers essentially lapdance the camera, often fully clothed. Some of the scenes are surprisingly erotic considering the industry is founded on Islamic values. Filmmaker Nasim Khan, while dismissive of the overall vulgarity of modern Pashto films, is particularly flabbergasted by these scenes and typifies the negative reaction which brought this documentary about. Another director, the appropriately named Anjum Pervez, argues that these scenes would not be so popular were the Pashto people not in conflict with their own value systems.

The documentary tantalises the viewer throughout with brief snippets from these ‘wild scenes’, but wisely spends most of its short running time discussing their cultural and societal impact. Pervez brings up the interesting point that almost all cinema attendants in Pakistan are male, painting the industry as some sort of inflated boys’ club (note titles such as The Pen and the Kalashnikov), and all the males interviewed for the film acknowledge some sort of religious guilt to enjoying. Though one gets the feeling that more could have been produced from such scandalous subject matter, director and journalist Akram Zadiq does a respectable and fair job of profiling modern-day Pakistan, and also encourages Western moviegoers to question the complexities of film censorship, and the hypocrisy surrounding sex and violence on screen.

DEEP THROAT (USA/1972/GERARD DAMIANO)

Opening with a ludicrous porn theme interpretation of Ode to Joy, the legendary Deep Throat begins with Linda Lovelace interrupting a friend mid-cunnilingus to ask for advice on how to achieve an orgasm. Linda has been privately struggling with her sexual problem for a while, and even an impromptu sex party doesn’t seem to help. Eventually, she visits an unorthodox psychiatrist out of desperation, and is taken aback when he suggests that the reason she had failed to attain orgasm is because her clitoris is at the back of her throat. In spite of her apparent despondency regarding the situation, the doctor decides to test his theory by offering up his own penis for her to fellate. Elated by the breakthrough, Linda volunteers as the doctor’s assistant – a “physiotherapist”, specifically – in order to find the man who can best satisfy her needs.

The entire affair is carried out with gleeful light-heartedness. The soundtrack is particularly peculiar, featuring a wistful little ditty whose chorus almost entirely consists of the film’s title, as well as a sexed-up version of I’d Like To Teach The World To Sing. Sound effects too underpin the film’s comical tone, each orgasm necessitating complete exhaustion of the erotic metaphors – bells, fireworks, even a slow-motion rocket. But the film is somewhat tainted by the accusations that Linda’s husband Chuck Traynor, the film’s production manager, was a gruff individual who had forced her into porn. Nonetheless, as a sexual curio, it deserves to be remembered for years to come.