In an archive micro interview among the extras on this characteristically cracking Severin release, director Bruno Mattei offers the profound observation that “Violence In A Women’s Prison is a film about the imprisonment of women”… no shit, Sherlock! Up to their old tricks, Mattei and frequent collaborator Claudio Fragasso shot this one (also known as Emanuelle Reports From A Women’s Prison / Caged Women) simultaneously with another “Gemser in jail” epic, Blade Violent aka Women’s Prison Massacre in 1982. Mattei handled most of VIAWP while, down the block, Fragasso concentrated on BV. If there was anything particularly tricky to shoot, each would help the other out and the continuity girl apparently commuted between the two on roller skates… a wonderful snapshot of how things worked at the height of the soon-to-deflate spaghetti exploitation boom.
As you won’t have too much trouble gleaning from one of those alternative titles, the plot here involves Emanuelle Sterman (as she appears to be surnamed this time out) masquerading as one Laura Kendall (prostitute, dope peddler and pimp murderer) to go undercover for Amnesty International and report back on the human rights abuses in a high security prison, godknowswhere. There’s a local peasant dude called Miguel who turns up to deliver fruit and veg, from which I imagine we are supposed to infer that these events are unfolding somewhere in Latin America… Miguel doesn’t figure in any significant way for the rest of the picture, although it’s suggested at one point that he has a speed boat in which the good guys might be able to escape (what, was he a contestant on Bullseye or something?)
It looks for a while as though their isn’t going to be too much in Emanuelle’s report, over and above the predictable sapphic shenanigans and some stereotypical depictions of brutish bull dykes and limp-wristed faggots, for Amnesty to get incensed about… I mean, “If you don’t get out of bed you can’t have any coffee” must rank pretty low on the scale of crimes against humanity. The outrages begin to escalate, though, when our heroine decides to up the ante by dumping a bucket of shit over the head of a guard who winds her up during slopping out. A rather messy fight scene ensues, to the obvious delight of Warden Rescaut (another mesmerisingly intense performance from the brilliant Franca Stoppi) and Emanuelle is consigned to solitary confinement in a dungeon, where she is soon (this is a Bruno Mattei flick, remember) attacked by a pack of ravenous rats.
Chief Warden Dolores (Lorraine De Selle) invites the Governor of the men’s prison next door (Jacques Stany) over to party, their love-making spiced up by the spectacle of a couple of his (floridly overacting) inmates violating one of hers. The gay character Leander (Franco Caracciolo) is lynched by fellow prisoners, inflamed by spectacle of an unattainable floozy flaunting her charms through the window of her cell. Kindly Doctor Moran (Gabriele Tinti, Gemser’s real life spouse and frequent film partner) reassures Leander, before he gives up the ghost, that he’ll be able to look Jesus in the eye…
Under the tender care of the Doc, who’s serving time for the mercy killing of his wife, Emanuelle recovers miraculously quickly, only to be outed as the Amnesty mole that De Selle and Stany have been looking out for (perhaps stashing her draft reports under her mattress wasn’t the smartest of ideas…)
In a ringing endorsement of her accusations, Emanulle has a bell lowered over her, which the guards beat on with their truncheons until she confesses (ding dong!) She’s then put in a hospital ward to recover but this is only to lull her into a false sense of security while De Selle administers incremental doses of poison to her. How being raped by Stany fits into their “lulling” stratagem is anybody’s guess.
Anyway, during a general uprising in which several guards and inmates are killed off (“Who will feed my pet cockroach?” are the dying words of one old lag), The Doc and Emanuelle attempt an escape, but never do manage to find Miguel’s speed boat (“Ooh, let’s see what he could have won!”) The film seems to close with them being marched to execution but there’s a final twist which, if a bit abruptly sprung, is quite clever by the general standard of these things. Mattei was so pleased with this one that he attempted to W.I.P. audiences into another frenzy with The Jail: The Women’s Hell, a thinly disguised remake, 24 years later.
Extras comprise the aforementioned short Mattei interview, an amusing radio spot and an interview with Fragasso and Rossella Drudi that’s split about 50 / 50 between VIAWP and their broader joint career… the usual moaning (all perfectly justified, I’m sure) about “the usual swindles”.
While never quite attaining the levels of surreal and sadistic delirium that Joe D’Amato and Jess Franco always brought to W.I.P. and affiliated genres, Mattei rings enough sleazy bells (quite literally in one scene) to satisfy devotees of this stuff and with another scenery-chewing performance from Stoppi (below) and both Gemser and De Selle registering at their career foxiest, it’s another winner from the ever reliable Severin stable, scanned in 2k from a pristine inter-positive so you can wallow like never before in this fevered festival of feisty faecal fist-fight action… you lucky people!