I paid twenty-five pence for this and still feel ripped off. I only bought it because my kids had already chosen three films and you get four for a pound in Cash Generators (certain branches only). I was also curious to see what the fuss is about Soledad Miranda, only to spend most of the running time wondering why the main lady prancing about and mumbling looked nothing like the girl on the cover.
Turns out Jess Franco has pulled a Godfrey Ho on us and spliced two films together, one of which contains Soledad (and her arse) hanging around an attic somewhere talking crap while the other concerns a psychotic stripper who keeps dreaming of killing people while having a relationship with a naughty lady in a big mansion. She also spends most of the film naked, as does most of the people here.
In the hands of a good director (or even a good bad director, like Bruno Mattei) the story of a psychotic stripper who may or may not be killing people while hunting for underwear would make for a hilarious and gory experience, but in the nicotine stained hands of Franco, every scene is drawn out beyond endurance, the whole thing is narrated by the lady in a slightly reverbed voice for extra crapness, and the nudity is probably more likely to bring those Cheese and Onion flavour Aldi crisps back up your throat. One woman's boob looked like a huge celeriac with an unfurled condom sitting on top of it and another looked like she'd been hit between the legs with a bag of soot. And since this is 1970's Europe, everyone looks like they stink.
Yet another winner from Franco then! Love the fact that during her strip scene, the lady narrates that her boss told her to make it seem like it went on forever and to be a slow as possible. Consider your job done, missus!