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Plot: Eva’s milkshake brings all boys to the yard…

To say it in the immortal words of the great philosopher Franz Josef Gottlieb: “Hurra! Die Schwedinnen sind da.” After Joseph W. Sarno’s Inga (1968) (with Marie Liljedahl) the only way to continue was to push the envelope further. Thus was born Eva den utstötta (released under a variety of sensationalist titles in various territories while the original title translates to simply Eva - the Outcast, just Eva hereafter) that placed divinely proportioned auburn haired starlet Solveig Andersson at the top of Swedish sexploitation pantheon. Or at least until the arrival of one Christina Lindberg just twelve months later. Eva is no Dog Days (1970). No, Eva is better on all fronts. Biblical implications or no. This is probably the closest Sweden ever got their own Schoolgirl Report (1970). Equally sensationalist and framed as a serious exposé on youth sexuality Eva takes a well-deserved jab at the small-town obsession with what everybody does in the privacy of their bedrooms and reveals the rank hypocrisy of small-town provincialism in all its utterly banal ugliness. It’s, if nothing else, another excuse to have att se vackra flickor bli nakna.

Solveig Andersson had a blitz career that burned bright and fizzled out quick. In just 6 short years she was in the Danish-Swedish classic Dagmar's Hot Pants, Inc. (1971) and co-starred alongside Christina Lindberg three times, in Every Afternoon (1972), Thriller – A Grim Film (1973), and Wide Open (1974). As far as Nordporn goes, there are only a couple of names that really matter: the Maries Liljedahl and Forså, Solveig Andersson, Christina Lindberg, and Birte Tove. We’d love to include Leena Skoog on that list but her two Laila (17 år) (1969) one-reels are her only real contributions and not even her Four Dimensions of Greta (1972) is enough to consider her anything more than a blip on the radar. What Leena Skoog was to freezing hot Nordic blondes Solveig was to the redhaired girl-next-door. And to the definitive queens of Svenka ero somebody like Skoog could, and cannot, possibly compare. Wide Open (1974) would be the swansong for both Andersson and Christina Lindberg and was preceded by the Japanese pinky violence feature Mitsu no shitatari (1973) on one side and the western Dead Man’s Trail (1975) on the other. Interestingly (but not very surprisingly) somewhere after 1976 when her career had truly and well ended Andersson became a born-again Christian. She now is a poet and in 2014 briefly returned to television. Since then little has been heard of her and it’s safe to assume she has retired permanently.

Eva (Solveig Andersson) is a 14-year-old tonårsflickas in a sleepy hamlet somewhere in Sweden and she has a problem. She can’t relate to her friends in school as she’s quite developed for her tender age. She’s a girl in a woman’s body. As a victim of parental neglect all Eva craves is some warmth and love. Or a candy bar. Her full figure drives men insane, and that’s the only currency she has. When Eva one day offers her body to vagrant 'Järla-Bana' Karlsson (Arne Ragneborn) she suddenly becomes to talk of the town. She has brought scandal upon her pastoral community and embarrased her foster parents Alma (Hanny Schedin) and Peter Fredriksson (Arthur Fischer). Now den utstötta the moral guardians of the town form a council of elders and propose an investigation into the young wench’s sinful conduct. Community gatekeepers such as psychiatrist Jenny Berggren (Barbro Hiort af Ornäs) and the pastor (Segol Mann) each present their views into Eva’s psychological profile and her state of mind. The judge (Lars Lennartsson) will then deliberate and announce the verdict. The investigation from the police superintendent (Jan Erik Lindqvist) attracts the attention of Landsposten newspaper editor-in-chief (Einar Axelsson) who assigns journalist Lennart Swenningson (Hans Wahlgren) to follow up on the pending court case. When Eva is called to the stand she tells that she’s just a girl finding her way in the world. How she experimented with her friend Berit Svensson (Inger Sundh) during a sleepover and drew the ire of Berit’s mother (Karin Miller). However, not everything is just mischief and in her interview Eva implicates a number different men whom she provided sexual services to. Some of them poor working class slobs, others aristocratic gentlemen and distinguished bourgeoisie; and even the police superintendent.

Solveig Andersson was probably the Scandinavian equivalent to German soft sex superstars as Barbara Capell, Ulrike Butz, or Mascha Gonska. Much like the aforementioned Leena Skoog, she too had that girl-next-door quality and pretty much the same build as Edwige Fenech, Danielle Ouimet, and Luciana Ottaviani. Whereas Christina Lindberg was an anime sex doll given flesh, Andersson was more regular looking (but never plain or ordinary like, say, Gisela Schwartz) and it was the same thing that made Marie Liljedahl famous. In many ways she was similar to Eurocult queens Muriel Catalá, Christina von Blanc, and the Pascals, Françoise and Olivia. It’s perplexing how she never ended up in the strange world of Jess Franco as Solveig was exactly the homely and innocuous type Franco loved. Andersson would have fit seamlessly with the likes of Soledad Miranda, Romina Power, Christina von Blanc, Susan Hemingway, as well as the French and the Pascals, Françoise and Olivia.

In many ways Eva is a lighter, more wholesome alternative to Dan Wolman’s Maid In Sweden (1971), or Wickman’s own depressing tale of teenage woe Anita Swedish Nymphet (1973), by way of the sensationalist Schoolgirl Report (1970). The wide availability of anti-conceptives and sex now being seen as recreative heralded a new era of hedonism reflected in a veritable explosion of soft erotica. Inga (1968) pushed the envelope as far as it could, and Eva does even moreso. It has the heart of Alfred Vohrer’s Herzblatt (1969) (with Mascha Gonska) and the lighter tone is very much akin to Joe Sarno’s Butterflies (1975) (with Marie Forså). Swedish erotica was always more matter-of-fact and naturalistic in comparison to the slapstick of Great Britain, West Germany, and Italy. In that sense Sweden was closer to France while not nearly, if it all, having that oneiric Mediterranean quality. Nominally described as a comedy Eva is more of a drama, but doesn’t shy away from the occasional comedic moment. In a particularly funny exchange Eva and her friend Berit are lolling about semi-naked in the latter’s attic bedroom during a sleepover at the Svensson abode. “Does sex make breasts grow?” Berit wonders out aloud while feeling Eva’s and complimenting how soft hers are, “No,” she continues having given it further thought, “then I would have had giant breasts.” It’s the kind of quip you expect from Lederhosenporn specialists Franz Josef Gottlieb, Alois Brummer, or Hubert Frank – not some Swede.

Torgny Wickman apparently wants the viewer to take this as a serious piece of socio-political filmmaking as he examines the ins and outs of teen sexuality. Wickman never fails to hide his more exploitative inclinations behind the thinnest veneer of an exposé. Nobody is going to watch something like this for the supposed social commentary it offers and more than likely for the bröst and röv that Andersson and some of the other flicka put on display. At least there’s some semblance of a story which is never really a given with these sort of things. The witness testimonies at the trial are a really economic framing device for small vignettes involving all different parties. It’s not exactly Schoolgirl Report (1970) styled cinema verité and it’s never as transgressive as Joël Séria’s Don't Deliver Us from Evil (1971) either. Wickman wisely concludes that the wise community gatekeepers (cranky old people and moral guardians) shouldn’t concern themselves too much with what people do in the privacy of their own bedrooms, lest their obvious hypocrisy be exposed in the process. It’s exactly the kind of comeuppance they deserve, and one you seldom see in Hollywood treatments.

Plot: Angela doesn’t like her new stepmother…

Peccati di gioventù (or Sins Of Youth, released in North America as So Young, So Lovely, So Vicious… for some reason) is one of the better Gloria Guida melodramas. If Guida had never made To Be Twenty (1978) with Fernando Di Leo this, along with That Malicious Age (1975) a year later, would probably be considered some of her finest work. There’s no question that it stands head and shoulders above the futile sex comedies that Guida made a living with. Not only is So Young, So Lovely, So Vicious… better written and beautifully photographed, it actually gives glorious Gloria something to do and the chance to act every once in a while. Guida wasn’t too shabby of an actress when, and if, she was allowed to do more than just take her clothes off. Here she gets that chance. Silvio Amadio was crazy about Gloria and it isn’t hard to see why… So Young, So Lovely, So Vicious… is for those who can’t stomach Gloria’s regular raunchy sex comedies.

As an Italian precursor to French drama The Year of the Yellyfish (1984) So Young, So Lovely, So Vicious… is a prime example of the youth gone bad thriller subgenre that experienced somewhat of a revival with infinitely lesser American imitations as Poison Ivy (1992), and The Crush (1993) and in the new millennium with French director François Ozon and his Swimming Pool (2003) with Charlotte Rampling, and Ludivine Sagnier. So Young, So Lovely, So Vicious… falls smackdab in the middle between the innocuous The Minor (1974), and the equally tragic That Malicious Age (1975). One thing is painfully obvious: Amadio’s best days were clearly behind him. As utilitarian and occasionally beautifully photographed as So Young, So Lovely, So Vicious… is, he was a very long way from the masterclass in suspense and sleaze that was Amuck (1972). Silvio Amadio would work with his muse one last time on The Doctor… The Student (1976). As slick and hyper-stylized as his gialli were so matter-of-fact and stilted are these.

Angela Batrucchi (Gloria Guida) loves her father. She loves her doctor father (Silvano Tranquilli) so much that she’s none too pleased that he has found a new lover in Irene (Dagmar Lassander). She’s so incensed and overcome by incestual longing with the whole situation that she schemes with her boyfriend Sandro Romagnoli (Fred Robsahm) to drive a wedge between the two. Since Sandro moonlights as a gigolo and has an older lover (Dana Ghia, as Felicita Ghia) on the side Angela orders him to seduce Irene. While Sandro is busy doing that Angela decides to dig into Irene’s past to find something, anything that she can use to blackmail her into doing her bidding. With a little sleuthing Angela uncovers that Irene had a lesbian phase in college, and decides to use that to her advantage. She plans to provide Sandro with the perfect opportunity to collect incriminating photographic evidence of Irene’s fluid sexual preferences.

For no other reason than to drive Irene completely mad Angela starts acting erratically and will fly into fits of apoplectic rage without the slightest provocation. Somehow Irene finds a way of dealing with Angela’s unpredictable and sudden moodswings. When Sandro’s plans to lure Irene into bed with him don’t pan out Angela figures that her stepmother’s lesbian inclinations are something worth exploiting. In short order Angela shows her naughty slides from her and her girl friends on vacation, randomly undresses in front of her, and showers with the door wide open. When all of that fails to have the desired effect, Angela invites Irene over to the beach where they engage in heavy petting while Sandro captures everything on photo with his camera. In her desperation Angela tries to drive Irene off the road when she spots her in town. That is the final straw, and Irene’s spirit breaks. After being locked up in her room Angela has a moment of introspection, and realizes how much damage she has caused. By that point Irene has driven off in tears, is there time for Angela to turn the tide?

Director Silvio Amadio was something of a late-bloomer. He worked his way through the obligatory comedy, adventure, peplum, spaghetti western, and melodrama features before he started to develop any sort of recognizable individual style. By all accounts Amadio seems to have been a fairly standard Italian exploitation director until around 1970. Up to that point (the late sixties) Amadio’s oeuvre had contained its fair amount of sex and social dysfunction, but neither came together quite as exuberantly as they did in Amuck (1972) (with Rosalba Neri, and Barbara Bouchet). Amadio had always been a major creative force behind the screenplays for his films, and it’s hard to pinpoint exactly what led to the sudden creative upsurge. One possible reason could be the permissive social mores directly following the sexual revolution, the availability of actresses will doing to do nudity – or, both. Although the latter doesn’t hold up to much scrutiny as Island Of the Swedes (1969) had Catherine Diamant doing pretty much every iconic scene that Gloria Guida would later popularize through her work with Amadio. On first glance it seems Amadio’s entire reputation as a cult director is solely built on the back of the gialli Amuck (1972) and Smile Before Death (1972). The general consensus is that Amadio’s tenure with Guida signaled a creative downslope, something which a cursory back-to-back viewing of Amuck (1972) and Smile Before Death (1972) with any of the Guida titles certainly seems to corroborate. Which amounts to him being interesting for about two years before the inevitable decline.

Even though she was only a fixture in lowbrow commedia sexy all’Italiana for about a good 8 years Gloria worked with some of the absolute best in the business. She debuted in Mario Imperoli’s coming of age tale Monika (1974) and he launched Guida’s world-famous ass to superstardom with his Blue Jeans (1975). However it was Silvio Amadio who showed the world with The Minor (1974) that glorious Gloria could be a dramatic actress provided that the material was written to her strengths. Arguably it was Michele Massimo Tarantini who ensured Guida’s cinematic immortality with La Liceale (1975) and Mariano Laurenti kept her employed through the obligatory sequels. Once again it was Amadio who allowed Gloria to spread her wings in terms of acting a bit. Both So Young, So Lovely, So Vicious… and That Malicious Age (1975) were tragedies disguised as bawdy sex comedies. One thing was clear: Silvio loved la Guida, and she’s on display in full ornate here. Amadio wastes absolutely no time in getting Gloria out of what little clothes she wears, lovingly photographing every inch of her body, and reveling in every moment that she’s in the frame. Which is a really polite way of saying that there’s plenty of naked shenanigans involving our girl Gloria. That doesn’t mean it’s crass, or vulgar – it’s tasteful, and retroactively kind of meta.

The other big stars here are Dagmar Lassander and Silvano Tranquilli. Lassander was a redhead, and a contemporary of Helga Liné, Betsabé Ruiz, Rosanna Yanni, Silvia Tortosa, Cristina Galbó, Erika Blanc, Sandra Julien, and Malisa Longo. Lassander can be seen in Hatchet for the Honeymoon (1970), The Forbidden Photos of a Lady Above Suspicion (1971), The Iguana with the Tongue of Fire (1971), a pair of Alfonso Brescia sex comedies, and The House by the Cemetery (1981). Tranquilli for about a decade was a pillar of domestic gothic horror appearing alongside Barbara Steele in The Horrible Secret of Dr. Hichcock (1962), Castle Of Blood (1964), and the gialli Black Belly of the Tarantula (1971), The Bloodstained Butterfly (1971), and Smile Before Death (1972). In comparison to both Lassander and Tranquilli, Fred Robsahm was a nobody with only the Bud Spencer-Terence Hill western spoof Carambola (1974) (cos only the Italians would make a spoof of a spoof), and the Roger Vadim fumetti Barbarella (1968).

Perhaps Amadio felt ownership over Gloria because he helped shape her career so significantly? It was 1975 and Guida was at the height of her popularity and from here her career, both as a singer and as an actress, could only go downward. She was twenty, and had spurned his advances. How else to recover from that than to make a movie about it? In the most simplest terms So Young, So Lovely, So Vicious… is about a hedonistic socialite who sends a spurned older lover into suicidal despair after rejecting their advances. It all feels strangely autobiographical considering the circumstances, and it’s almost as if Amadio was directly talking to Guida in his script. That Malicious Age (1975) merely changed the settings and cut down the slapstick but it was, more or less, So Young, So Lovely, So Vicious… - and it too ended in tragedy. It was Fernando Di Leo who really distilled the commedia sexy all’Italiana formula candy girls as Gloria Guida and Lilli Carati specialized in, and used the format to deliver a scathing condemnation of the patriarchal – and sexual mores of Italian society at the time. In 1981 Gloria met crooner Johnny Dorelli, and retired soon after. Guida married Dorelli in 1991, and Silvio Amadio, age 69 and 24 films in total, passed away four years later, in 1995.