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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.

Plot: everything is not well in casa Gustafsson. Hilarity ensues!

In what is either Sweden’s biggest cult classic or the ultimate kalkonklassiker Rötmånad (or Dog Days, rated X and released in specialized blue-film grindhouses across North America as the more poetic What Are You Doing After the Orgy?) Christina Lindberg, the biggest domestic export and soon-to-be sexploitation queen, can be seen giving her best performance ever and often with very little in the way of clothes (although not always in that order necessarily) in what is her best offering by a wide margin. Rötmånad (Dog Days hereafter) is a comedy in tune with the times, and something that could’ve just as easily have been made in Great Britain, Germany, or Italy. There isn’t much worth recommending in the early Lindberg canon but Dog Days is the exception. Indicative of where la Lindberg’s career was heading, Dog Days is rife with the blackest of humour and there’s plenty of naked Christina for everybody to go around.

Christina Lindberg was a former archeology student that took to nude modelling, and was a Penthouse Pet (June, 1970). Like Leena Skoog before her Lindberg and her voluptuous figure were bound to attract the attention of producers, and she debuted in the inauspicious Dog Days in 1970. In 1973 she released her photo book This Is Christina Lindberg by her photographer and soon-to-be husband Bo Sehlberg. By the end of the decade Lindberg had to make a choice; stay employed and graduate into hardcore (the way Marie Forså and Marina Hedman did) or change careers. Christina chose the latter, retrained herself to become a journalist and now is the driving force behind the n° 1 aviation magazine in Sweden.

The men behind Dog Days were the duo of Bengt Forslund and Olle Nordemar. Forslund gave Lasse Hallström his first directorial features after his music video work with/for ABBA and Nordemar was a specialist in family/kids movies. In the late sixties he introduced Inger Nilsson and her iconic Pippi Longstocking to the world with a television series based on the Astrid Lindgren novels, followed almost immediately by a threatrical movie, and no less than three sequels. Forslund and Nordemar chose Jan Halldoff to direct as he had a knack for social realist comedies and dramas, often (but not always) involving youth culture of the day. Very much like Skoog in her Laila (17 år) (1969) reels there’s something very cinema verité the way Halldorf photograps Lindberg, and there didn’t seem to be much acting, or anything, involved. Even without the benefit of subtitling or English dubbing Dog Days is a pretty funny affair – and the title becomes crystal clear when its Darwinistic streak kicks in…

Somewhere in the rural environs of Sandhamn in Värmdö Municipality on the Stockholm Archipelago barber Assar Gustafsson (Carl-Gustaf Lindstedt) has been spending the summer with his 17-year old daughter Anna-Bella (Christina Lindberg) and family dog Ludde at their vacation home. They experience a rude awakening from their quiet, idyllic life in the country far away from civilization when Assar’s wife and Anna-Bella’s mother Sally (Ulla Sjöblom) – the town prostitute, believed missing (and presumed dead) for the last 5 years – makes a sudden and unexpected return. When Sally discovers that Anna-Bella has blossomed into beautiful young woman she promptly announces her plan to start a brothel out of the bathhouse. She immediately starts grooming the uninhibited Anna-Bella who’s prone to walking around the house semi-nude, so Sally arranges an assessing man (Curt L. Malmsten) and a photographer (Jan Blomberg) to make the most out of the situation. She uses Anna-Bella to attract customers to her cathouse and Assar is blackmailed into working as a waiter. The brothel becomes an overnight success thanks to Anna-Bella’s silent presence.

The brothel, and the coming and going of various guests (Gunnar 'Knas' Lindkvist and Christer Jonsson), and the naked shenanigans of the mostly mute Anna-Bella attract the attention not only of their neighbour Jansson (Ernst Günther), and a Finlander in a rowboat (Frej Lindqvist) but also that of Jan (Eddie Axberg). Almost immediately sparks fly between Jan and Anna-Bella. Having had enough Sally murders Jan in cold blood on the grounds that as a prostitute Anna-Bella can’t afford the luxury of emotions and that Jan was a nuisance. Assar is none too happy when he gets wind what Sally has done, and rigs her love-nest explode to ensure her permanent absence and a return to their quiet country life from before. Learning of Jan’s death Anna-Bella metes out retribution by killing her mother. One day a tortured Assar is installing a lightning rod Sally had continually bugged him about, and is electrocuted in doing so. Memorial arrangements are made with the priest (Carl-Axel Elfving), and the only way Anna-Bella knows how of repaying friendly mortician Ivar Frid (Bo Halldoff) is by offering her body. They retreat to Sally’s dynamite-rigged love-nest and everything explodes. In the aftermath of this series of unfortunate events only family dog Ludde remains….

Scandinavia has always had a far more liberated, relaxed, and not nearly as repressed attitude towards nudity and sexuality compared to the rest of Europe and the North American continent. Denmark and Sweden were considered the Mecca of hedonism and both took an active role as a pioneer in the bridging the gap between soft – and hardcore pornography. They welcomed Joe Sarno when he was exiled from America in the late sixties and graced the world with the likes of Solveig Andersson, Marie Forså, Leena Skoog, Margareta Sjödin, Marina Hedman, and Marie Liljedahl. Canada had the maple syrup porn of Valérie (1968) (with Danielle Ouimet) and Sweden had Inga (1968) and the two Laila (17 år) (1969) one-reels. The rise of Christina Lindberg coincided with the halcyon days of the bawdy sex comedy in such places as France, Germany, Great Britain, and Italy. So, it’s no wonder that miss Lindberg ended up in one of the many Schoolgirl Report (1970) sequels years later. Denmark was one of the first countries to legalize hardcore pornography in 1969, but the sexploitation genre took a blow only when the rest of Europe followed suit about ten years later. There was a brief revival of the genre during the early-to-mid 1980s with the Cine-S in Spain and the Brazilian pornochanchada, but they were quickly made redundant with the wide availability of the harder format in the then-booming home video market.

And what other reason to seek out Dog Days than to see Christina Lindberg in her prime? Compared to her sometime colleague and contemporary Leena Skoog, Lindberg is something of a boorish bore. Whereas Skoog illuminated the two Laila (17 år) (1969) one-reels with her radiant sensuality, carefree uninhibitness, and considerable girlish charm Lindberg doesn’t generate so much as a pulse at the best of times. Skoog would go on to star in Britain’s first 3-D film Four Dimensions of Greta (1972) from Pete Walker whereas Lindberg would star in ugly and kinda nihilistic sexploitationers as Exponerad (1971), Maid In Sweden (1971), Thriller - A Cruel Picture (1973), Anita Swedish Nymphet (1973), and Wide Open (1974). The things Christina appeared in make you wish she found a footing in Germany, Great Britain, or Italy, who at least made their sex comedies lighthearted, full of slapstick and, well, fun. There’s more than plenty of naked Christina for anyone to go around in all of her movies, but none of them are particularly worth revisiting after an initial viewing. Gloria Guida also consistently made churlish sex comedies – but at least they were fun, and for every more melodramatic one there was a lighthearted romp with Lino Banfi in return. No such thing was the case with Lindberg’s career that went from bad to worse in the span of just a few years. No wonder Christina called it a day at the dawn of the eighties, alhough she would have found a home in Spain’s shortlived Cine-S circuit. Oh well, at least it’s good to see her get reappraised in recent years thanks to Quentin Tarantino.

It’s a question for the ages why Dog Days was released with an X rating in North America. Outside of Lindberg’s near-constant state of undress there’s nothing particularly explicit about it. Next to that, this wasn’t a case of The Devil’s Wedding Night (1973), Malabimba (1979), or Satan’s Baby Doll (1982) either where the presence of hardcore inserts would condemn it automatically to a universally fatal X-rating and thus to a release exclusively in the sex cinemas on 42nd street and practically no marketing campaign worthy of the name. Nor did it have to compete for attention on the home video market (as that was still a decade away) or see only limited threatrical release and distribution across the Atlantic as many Italian titles had to a decade later. Dog Days is an anomaly of sorts in the early Christina Lindberg canon and it was indicative of exactly in what type of movies she would make a name for herself. Which sorts of begs an additional question: what would have become of Christina had Tinto Brass discovered her at the dawn of the eighties? Would she have become the Swedish Serena Grandi, Luciana Ottoviani, or Debora Caprioglio? One thing is certain: Dog Days is Christina’s best film… and you should really see it, if you can.