Le dieu noir

This sensationally smut-laden, orgiastic odyssey by scurrilous smut-lord Osvaldo Civirani ostensibly concerns the jet-setting, sun-seeking, hedonistic pleasantries of a married couple as they initially enjoy an especially sultry sojourn upon a beauteous, sin-drenched Haitian island, where they lustily avail themselves of all the exquisitely heady delights so generously bestowed upon them, and yet, as they continue to party increasingly heartily, the sexily sinister Balaga (Don Powell), that truly villainously libidinous, orgy orchestrating, bad mojo workin', nastily necromantic nemesis has diabolically degenerate designs on pretty Laura's delectably bodacious bod (Karin Schubert), the blissfully blithe wife of the handsome and no less oblivious Marco (Chris Avram), and before you can say Joe D'Amato woz 'ere, both hunky husband and winsome wife are up to their furry coconuts in deliriously psychedelic voodoo shenanigans, thereby inaugurating a sweaty smorgasbord of bravura Baron Samedi-inspired iniquity that soon threatens their supernaturally-warped sanity! If skeevey 70s horndog-hoodoo is what you-do, don't be a dreadful doo-doo head, and miss out on the disco-infernal, island-set, whirling dervish insanity of 'Voodoo Sexy Erotico'!!! And the bouncy, Black magic B-Movie boogie by funky composer Coriolano Gori is guaranteed to put one hell of a kinky spell on you, baby!

An odd mixture of various exploitation motives. We have a bit of supernatural voodoo magic, a lot of topless Karin Schubert, quite a bit of interracial sex (and no intraracial sex!), an exotic holiday resort, etc. Really, the film is not going anywhere, has no story worth telling, and the ending comes rather abruptly and can kindly be described as 'unimaginative'.

The worst bit though are pants of voodoo god Don Powell. Sometimes he manages to get a really discerning look on his face, giving him the required supernatural aura; but then he is badly let down by these awful red panties.

This film seems to be one of the exploitation-world's hidden secrets, which very few fans seem to know about. After seeing more and more of Osvaldo Civirani's films, I am impressed by the amount of professional skill he possessed, especially in this one, when, as a cinematic man with roots in the classical cinema, he could very well have risked his career by going too far. Throughout the film, he skirts the borders of censorship, creating a very worthy exploitation piece, which reminds me somewhat of the Caribbean films made by Joe D'Amato a few years later. The secret to judging the value of this film as a "good film" lies in the very fact that Civirani flirts with our senses, taking us to the very threshold of "acceptability" and then subtly drawing us back into the light of the day. Unfortunately, this film is very difficult to find in good quality, even Italian sources being multi-generational. With the progress of time and research into these films, hopefully something better will show up.