Review by Dan Taylor
SLAUGHTER
HOTEL starts
off with a pre-credit sequence of a masked,
axe-wielding killer stalking a nubile and
scantily-clad Italian babe. Ahhh, but we
quickly switch to a snazzy Italian sportscar
zipping down the roadway with a leather-jacketed
driver and a decked-out Italian babe as
lots o' "Love American Style"
music bomps in the background. As the babe
grabs the steering wheel and attempts to
crash the snazzy little
sports number, Vito forces the car back
into the proper lane and utters a line which
sums up SLAUGHTER HOTEL: "Killing me is one thing, but why commit suicide?"
The SLAUGHTER
HOTEL of the title is actually nothing of
the sort. In actuality, it is a rest home
(or "loony bin" as the suicidal
Italian babe so quaintly refers to it) hence
the alternative (and more appropriate) title
of ASYLUM EROTICA. There, the staff, run
by Klaus Kinski (yeah! Give me a "K!")
as Dr. Francis Clay treats a number of afflicted
and beautiful women: these include a buxom
babe in love with her brother; a big-assed
black chick who starts having lesbian flirtations
with a red-headed nurse; a beautiful women
who owns a company and whose hubbie is pressuring
her to come back; and assorted other lovely
chicks who cope with their mental disorders
by playing croquet on the lawn all day.
I had
forgotten just how whacked SLAUGHTER HOTEL
was until the sequence involving Anne, the
chick in love with her brother. First, when
her brother visits, she reminds him of their
early days of incestual lovemaking and responds
to his accusations of mental illness by
saying, "I'm not sick, I'm not like
one of those loonies upstairs. I just want
to make love... make love." Then she
takes a hallucinogenic shower during which
she bounces her busty body off the walls
as echoing voices, uh, echo in the background!
Now it's all starting to come back to me.
If you're
wondering when the tempra paints are gonna
start a' flowin' (after all, the box does
advertise "the slasher massacre of
eight innocent nurses"), don't worry.
Things start getting bloody as a beautiful,
buxom patient (does this place have any
other kind?) gets knifed (though the camera
cuts away as her panties get ripped-off);
the chauffer gets shoved into the iron maiden;
and the masked killer, in a fit of subtlety,
begins wandering the halls of the hotel/asylum
with a broadsword in hand.
The "killer"
comes from your group of "usual suspects,"
with Klaus well-represented just because
he's Klaus plus he's sleeping with the company-owning
patient. That's our boy, taking advantage
of the fragile emotional state of a mental
patient.
The ending is pretty obvious early on, with
the 1980 film SCHIZOID
being a credible remake/rip-off/homage.
Sadly enough, Klaus doesn't have a whole
lot to do here. Yes, he does get top billing,
but mainly because he's the most recognizable
name in the cast.
Certainly not
an awful example of 70s Italian cinema, but
this one has a lazy quality to it... in the hands of
a more skillful director SLAUGHTER HOTEL might have
been a taught little thriller. However,
in the hands of Fernando DiLeo it proves
to be nothing better than a tv-movie-of-the-
week with a little Italian cheesecake tossed
in. Must admit that the crossbow to the
thorax is a pretty damn effective
though.
