text: Joe D'Amato might have made some other notable movies in his very long and very prolific career- prolific, of course, by turns of making VERY cheap Z-grade movies in Italy's big exploitation boom of the late 70s early 70s- but Porno Holocaust isn't one of them, or at least shouldn't be. Granted, I should not expect much from a movie with such a title, but I thought considering the back of the box's description that it might have some fun horror scenes with the "horny, mutant, cannibal zombie". Turns out the zombie doesn't appear until more than halfway into the movie, and at every turn we get instead a tawdry sex scene as hardcore as one can imagine. Which is fine. But it's not very enjoyable, except in the most "what the f*** is this BS" kind of way. There's laughable dialog involving lobsters costing more from mail-order Japan than in Paris, hot, slim women play biologists and zoologists who have particular sexual hang-ups (letting the door be unlocked to be raped, and a bi-polar kind of enjoyment out of getting gang-banged).<br /><br />It all leads up to the island, where the "main attraction" is a guy who early on just spends an absolutely pathetic (forget ludicrous) amount of time just staring at the newcomers to the radioactive wasteland of the shot-on-Caribbean island, and once revealed has a face like one of the guards in Jabba's palace and has a sweet potato for a main genital. But much dumber than anything before it is the "relationship" that develops between the monster and a dark-skinned lady who has an inordinate amount of time to escape, but just sits there, blank-faced, as the monster brings gifts and for what must be a racially-motivated exploitation move on the part of the filmmakers the monster ONLY rapes and kills the white women, and not her. And it ends, of course, with a "happy" ending. I use quotes, of course, out of a kind of shock that this could have any kind of legitimate ending at all.<br /><br />Bottom line, this is NOT what you might expect, as possibly being a bloody horror movie with plenty of tacky but cool looking Italian monster-zombies devouring human flesh. If anything what violence is in the film is done on a shoe-string; a log hit to the face is immediately cut to the bloody aftermath, which is like the aftermath of a tomato hitting someone. So really, the last part of the title is meant more for market sake. Yet even as a porno movie it has little to go on except as a reason for the cast and crew to get a paid vacation to the Caribbean (as an interview with George Eastman suggests, this was just one of a few quickies made while on the island). Its got penny-bought schlocky camera-work and similar actors, filled with genitalia about 3/4 of the whole time and with wretched lip-syncing and music like Nino Rota forced at gun-point to make something snappy in a bordello, and it's STILL a piece of celluloid dung all the same; all of this could be an immense guilty pleasure, but it isn't.