Jess Franco’s gauzy, erotic oeuvre makes a big deal of location—rented manors, half-ruined castles—and his 99 Women is no exception. Sitting atop a rocky cliff overlooking the sea, the Castille de la Muerte imprisons its titular women under the strict supervision of the Governor (Herbert Lom—Clouseau’s boss in the Pink Panther films, looking even more intimidating with a shaved head) and Warden (Mercedes McCambridge, retaining all her viciousness from Johnny Guitar). It’s into this formidable island prison that wide-eyed Marie (Maria Rohm) enters, re-christened “99”; she quickly falls victim to the fascist discipline routinely dispensed in the remote penitentiary. A social worker, Ms. Caroll (German star Maria Schell), is sent to the island to supervise the methods of discipline, under question due to a rash of deaths. After freeing Marie from the isolation cell, Ms. Caroll takes an interest in her case, but accusations that this crusader’s interests aren’t limited to social welfare push Marie to side with her fellow inmates, who are planning an escape.

Within the usually harsh confines of the Women-in-Prison genre, Franco here creates a surprisingly beautiful universe. Joining Rohm as inmates are the gorgeous Elisa Montés and Rosalba Neri, whose sharp features and prominently displayed legs have a magnificence that’s best seen large on the cinema screen. Neri, in particular, is the focus of two scenes that exemplify the unique combination of voyeurism and musical sophistication that makes up the best of Franco’s vast filmography; and Bruno Nicolai’s lush score decorates the filmmaker’s roving camera movements, imbuing scenes with a sensuousness that transcends the genre.

Blue Underground has freed 99 Women from the confines of VHS in two-disc editions; against usual re-release dictums, the longer version is not the ideal cut. Labeled the “X-Rated French Version,” it presents the film with non-related hardcore inserts not shot by Franco. At best, this version is a curio. The disc under review is the "Unrated Director’s Cut," which presents the English-language version of the film with a supplemental section comprised of three deleted scenes, an interview with Franco, a trailer, and a gallery of promotional ephemera. The highlights of the 19-minute interview with the always-energetic director are his reminiscences about McCambridge, who set out to steal the show with her strangely-accented, herky-jerky performance, succeeding against more erotically luminous co-stars.

More typical of the W.I.P. genre is 1983’s Italian-lensed Women’s Prison Massacre, a headfirst dive into filth made by the writer-director partnership of Claudio Fragasso and Bruno Mattei. The film was shot back-to-back with Violence in a Women’s Prison (available on DVD by Media Blasters/Shriek Show), using the same cast and locations, and viewing these two movies in succession makes for a disorienting experience, as cast members change from evil incarnate in one film to the essence of nobility in the next. Both films star Laura Gemser as Emanuelle (most of Gemser’s film characters have this name, cashing in on the popularity of her series of "Black Emanuelle" movies), a bastion of strength amidst utter corruption. Framed by the District Attorney on a drug-dealing charge, Emanuelle deals with attempts on her life from cellmate Albina (Ursula Flores, donning a white shock wig) as well as the warden (Lorraine De Selle, the ice-cold brunette from such Eurotrash staples as House on the Edge of the Park and Cannibal Ferox). But her troubles only get worse when a gang of male criminals, led by Crazy Boy Henderson (Gemser’s husband, Gabriele Tinti) escape from custody and take the female prison hostage.

It’s a film that revels in sadism, including—but not limited to—drowning, beatings, Russian roulette, strangulation, and, in the film’s most gruesome scene, abuse of male genitalia. Threadbare production values and uniformly distanced characterizations make for challenging viewing; there are sporadic moments of inspiration, such as an opening scene showcasing an avant-garde theatre production put on by the prisoners, but the script and direction are workmanlike on the whole. It’s probably too rough for camp, making this one a tough sell for anyone but the most ardent admirer of cult cinema.

Released at a budget price by Retro Shock-O-Rama/EI Independent Cinema Studios, this disc has a low-rent transfer from what looks like a worn theatrical print. With its scratches, softness, and occasional splices, this pales in comparison to Media Blasters’ release of its companion feature. Besides liner notes by 42nd Street Pete, the only extra is a series of trailers for EI’s current crop of shot-on-video features.
—ADAM WILLIAMS