Black Emanuelle

All of the Emanuelle ( not to mention Emmanuelle ) films have many things in common. Laughable dubbed dialogue, idiotic libertine philosophizing, a heavy dose of art house pretension, and of course mildly erotic if somewhat tedious sex scenes. Still, the production is quite impressive - the movies are generally shot on film and have some breathtakingly beautiful natural scenery ( and I'm not just talking about the women ), and they were, if only by default, interesting exotic travelogues.
Black Emanuelle is the first of the Italian rip-offs... er homages... to the French soft core blockbuster of a few years earlier, and a far different kettle of fish to the later, much sleazier sequels helmed by the late, questionably great Joe D'Amato. It is far closer to the incredibly dated Just Jaeckin "Emmanuelle" from 1973, taking a supposedly straight-faced look at contemporary relationships and questioning the usual flash point topics of the time, such as fidelity, jealousy, and desire ( all the while luxuriating in exotic surroundings ). Unlike D'Amato, director Albert Thomas does not present us with predatory drug lords, snuff movie-makers or rampaging cannibals, making for an admittedly less sensational, yet far more engaging viewing experience.
Photojournalist Mae Jordan ( aka "Emanuelle", aka Laura Gemser - who would later still, take the name Moira Chen, only to appear on U.S tv and chased around the set by Highway to Heaven's Michael Landon... and if she does that to an angel, what hope do us mere mortal's have? ) flies into Nairobi, where shes to shoot some stills to accompany an article by British writer Anne ( who is played by the very German, right down to the haircut, Karin Schubert ). Anne shares an "open relationship" ( hey, it was the 70's ) with her husband Gianni... which pretty much means both of them spend much of the film jumping anything that moves. Contrary to her subsequent reputation, Emanuelle seems positively puritanical next to these two would-be nymphomaniacs. Okay, so towards the end of the film she has sex on a train, with an entire football team... still...

The film is entirely Gemser's show. Not yet submitted to the endless array of rape and degradation that would come with the D'Amato era, she is a much relaxed screen presence. Projecting a slightly passive, at times even submissive and wide-eyed sensuality, Gemser manages to remain practically untouched by the debauchery that surrounds her. Unlike the original, the moralizing is kept to a bare minimum this time around, and in fact seems to have been added as almost an afterthought when towards the end of the film Emanuelle tells Gianni he hasn't "lost" her, as he never "possessed" her in the first place. Beautiful but somewhat dreary, the film in nonetheless worthwhile seeking out as a time capsule to an era, and a genre, now long gone.