Ve vill make you scream for science. The director's continuity apathy aside, the action doesn't let up in Ilsa's dungeon where she has Rosette sprawled and tied down to a table with a variety of alligator clips attached to her nipples and pubic hair. I guess Rosette somehow bypassed the horrors of the shaving hut because she's got quite a rugged landscape of underbrush. Ilsa menaces Rosette with what looks like a horse tranquilizer on a stick and then lights it on fire and - I assume -crams it into the helpless woman's vagina. This goes on for quite a while with all the exciting burning horse pill in crotch action taking place off screen and Ilsa grimacing with evil pleasure at each sudden thrust of fire pill. After four hours of torture and still no scream Ilsa orders the guards to take Rosette back to her bunk as a warning to the other prisoners not to attempt escaping. The girls are rightfully horrified by the sight of the brutally burned Rosette and they wonder aloud how much more she can take. I think it's safe to say she can take a lot more of me and I'm just watching her getting tortured.
Finally, the director decides to release the movie from its suspended bubble of time and release it back into the normal day and night cycle by introducing a bright new morning complete with marching guards and vintage Nazi music. This turns into a fantastic montage of Ilsa and her Nazi henchwomen walking from location to location on the set of "Hogan's Heroes" and occasionally marching out filthy prisoners for reviews. This sequence really makes you think about the suffering the Jews and others endured in Nazi concentration camps. It manages to convey a sense of hopelessness that makes me wonder how many more perverse sex scenes with grandma I'm going to have to endure before this fucking review is finished.
Dress code continues to be a problem. Back in nighttime movie Rosette is roused from her bunk by Fraulein Evil Eins und Zwei and taken back to the much-used torture chamber. There Rosette promises to die before she screams and Ilsa has her henchmaidens crank up the juice on the naked prisoner. This prompts Rosette to vacantly stare even harder and shift back and forth awkwardly in her chair. The power of electricity!
With Rosette having a little relaxing electrotherapy, Frenchie and Stilts crawl into the women's dorm for a panty raid/camp overthrow planning meeting. While Frenchie discusses which guards need to be killed by the women Stilts absconds with Anna, whose finger-magnetized mouth (see first review) apparently struck a love connection between the two. Later, in daytime movie, Anna is picking up sticks next to a picket fence when she notices that someone has placed a pot full of roses precariously on the fence post. She takes one of the flowers, a touching symbol of stolen love amidst the hellish backdrop of the holocaust and a moment that moved me nearly to tears. Then Stilts squats next to her and as usual starts dropping word shaped bricks out of his mouth, this time about their plan to steal guns after the Hair General leaves. Ilsa sees him talking to Anna and calls him over, prepared to reprimand him but then succumbing to her overwhelming attraction for his priapism. She tells him to come to her in the night after the Hair General is asleep and Stilts promises that it will be "even better than before". HOW COULD IT POSSIBLY?!!?
There goes half the props budget. Shortly thereafter the Hair General and his tiny entourage arrive in the camp in their little Nazi fun car. Ilsa greets them in traditional Nazi fashion and the Hair General immediately starts in with the flattery like he has a grandma fetish. Ilsa mildly rebuffs him and begins a whirlwind tour of the facility. The first stop on Ilsa Toad's Wild Ride is a surgery where the Hair General and a highly mobile framed portrait of Hitler (it appears in almost every shot in the movie) witness an extremely bloody crotch surgery being performed without anesthetic. Personally I think this is probably the most grotesque looking torture sequence in the movie, and the screaming woman whose face you never even see is probably the best actress in the film.
The Hair General is not easy to wow and is not particularly impressed by the groin surgery so Ilsa takes him to the maggot room. Inside a naked woman has a circular wound on her thigh covered with several dozen meal worms playing the role of maggots. The general remarks that the maggots have been infected with a new strain of typhus and Ilsa explains that the woman will spread the typhus to every person she comes in contact with. That's a neat discovery! While the general likes this new funnovation from Ilsa & Co he still is pretty reserved about praising the experiments. Ilsa then pulls out the big guns by showing him to the gangrene room where Ilsa's chubby assistant is smearing "gangrene pus" into a wound on a - do I even really need to put the word "naked" here? - woman tied into a chair. Ilsa assures the Hair General that, given time, they will be able to create an antidote for gangrene. The general obviously isn't happy with this since, you know, the whole losing the war thing is going on imperceptibly in the background.
Like Vanessa Williams, Ilsa has gone and saved the best for last, revealing the "burning the fuck out of a woman" experiment of Rosette. Honestly Rosette ain't looking too hot, resembling less a woman and more some sort of boiled lobster/strawberry jelly hybrid. Despite the obvious research value of trying to make a woman scream the Hair General is none too pleased with this experiment and starts yelling about Ilsa wasting time and resources on it. Not to mention a perfectly good sort of Jewish looking woman! Then after enough wheezing from Rosette the Hair General changes his tune and says he plans to present the valuable research to the Reich Marshall himself. These Hair Generals are all so moody and unpredictable!
Simply put, if I had Johnny Manziel’s physical gifts, you better believe I would be there in the Weight Room, getting to bed early, doing whatever I had to do to be the best possible athlete I could be. I wouldn't be posting on social media about sucking titties. I wouldn't even look at a titty, buddy. I'd look at a titty and see two big footballs.
A real friend doesn't move until the middle of August, ensuring temperatures in the 90s and a humidity that turns boxers into moist balls of ruined cotton.
Expendable? You must be joking.
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