Women of Cell Block 9 (aka Tropical Inferno)

1978 women's prison movies

Rating: 8/20

Plot: Three revolutionaries are captured and interrogated at a women's prison run by a sadistic warden. They try to escape.

The second in my trio of Jesus Franco movies is not a good movie at all, even for a women's prison movie. Franco dabbled in that genre, probably because of the pervy potential, and this effort is the kind of movie you kind of feel dirty for watching. The prisoners spend about 95% of the movie naked. When they're clothed at the beginning, they're the kinds of revolutionaries who wear short shorts and high heels. And when they're not being tortured, they're chained side-by-side by the neck so that the camera can pan over their bodies whenever Franco decides he needs another scene like that in the movie. And that's frequently. Folks who like movies that are degrading to women would almost love this. There's virtually no story, just a trio of torture scenes, one including a rhino horn and Howard Vernon saying, "Most men I've done this to are now homosexuals." Oh, yeah. Howard Vernon is in this. He's terrific despite the terrible dubbing--dubbing that includes voices when nobody's mouth is moving at all--and a scene where he watches lesbian action awkwardly. Well, that's also probably made awkward because of the dubbing. That or the leering. Now that I think about it, this movie is pretty much just shots of naked women and close-ups of Howard Vernon. And you know what? That's fine with me. I don't know who plays the warden because I can't figure out the warden's name, but I liked her. There's plenty of cheese amidst the sleaze with some game-show music that is completing distracting when the prisoners try to use lesbianism as a distraction to trick the dumbest prison guard ever, the line "Turn around, you pig!" which leads to the worst blood I think I've ever seen, and plenty of crocodiles or alligators during a scene where the naked women are being chased through the forest. As usual, I can't tell the difference between crocodiles and crocodiles. I don't think Franco can either though, so it doesn't matter. And the movie ends with shades of necrophilia with a nifty closing sound effect. Sweet move there, Jesus Franco. Sweet move. No one is going to mistake Women of Cell Block 9 or Tropical Inferno or whatever this movie wants to call itself (Note: It probably would rather hide than call itself anything.) for art, but. . .no, there is no but. There's nothing I can follow that with.