Long before Jorg Buttgereit (NEKROMANTIK) or Nacho Cerda (AFTERMATH) splashed around in the taboo territory of sex and gore epics, there was Joe D'Amato. Going far beyond the limits of the comparatively timid but revolutionary (for its time) "roughie" film (a film with both soft-core elements mixed with intermittent bursts of graphic violence), D'Amato's films not so much pushed the boundaries of sex and violence cinema, but blew them open. Always a shrewd and smart businessman first and filmmaker second, he heard the call for sensation, and he delivered. It seems logical that the next step in exploitation cinema would be a melding of hard-core sexual hijinks with a healthy smattering of chunky gore. D'Amato delivered, for better or worse. Amongst his handful of "hardgore" efforts (including 1980's PORNO HOLOCAUST and the 1982 film CALIGULA: THE UNTOLD STORY), his 1980 film EROTIC NIGHTS OF THE LIVING DEAD shuffles out of the muck as one of the best.

Essentially a porno with horror inserts (a curious inverse of the tradition of European horror filmmakers inserting XXX footage into their horror films for the hardcore market), ENOTLD tries its hand at both genres with gusto. Certainly, by the first hour, D'Amato has the sex part down pat. Although virtually plot less, the film concerns a group of mental hospital patients (including D'Amato regular George Eastman AKA "Antropophagus") who decide to rid themselves of hated institution and take off for the balmy Caribbean islands. Of course, on their way sex proves a worthy distraction. In the grand tradition of porno, each member of the group discards their garments and mounts each other with very little explanation. Indeed, the sex scenes are graphic, but are hardly erotic or arousing. But the lack of any heat in these plentiful sex games forces the viewer to neutrally assess the film as a bizarre montage of flesh and rotting bodies.

Those zombies, with their rotting bodies (an obvious rip-off of Giannetto De Rossi's groundbreaking fx work for Fulci's 1979 film ZOMBIE) provide only sporadic threats to D'Amato's nymphomaniacs. For the first hour, the walking dead prey only on hapless morgue attendants, surprising them as they rise from their sheets and messily tear latex skin from their necks. In fact, for the initial half of the film the zombies prove an entirely isolated and seemingly benign factor to the doomed fugitives. That is, until our group drop anchor at their sunny vacation spot.

Once on the sandy beaches, they happen upon a mysterious native (played by another hanger-on of D'Amato's canon, Laura Gemser), who seems to hold the secret to the island's terrible curse of the living dead. A sort of modern-day Siren, Gemser seduces the men with her exotic beauty, but only puzzling them more with her majestic materialization and bizarre disappearances. As they delve deeper into the island's deadly secret, they learn that she holds the key (actually, it's a rather ersatz voodoo figurine) to their fate.

ENOTLD is not a great film. The pace is often less than excited (no doubt bogged down by excessive sex scenes) and this film is also a victim of D'Amato's static camerawork (although there are more than a few zooms, suggesting a cheap, rushed schedule). But it does have many things going for it that fellow splatter epics can't even hold a black candle to. Undoubtedly one of its strongest components is the surprisingly moody and dynamic score by Pluto Kennedy. Haunting and atmospheric, the score's organ work and synthesizer accompaniment could easily go the rounds with Fabio Frizzi's best work for Lucio Fulci. In fact, the score finds an unlikely predecessor in Herk Harvey's 1962 classic CARNIVAL OF SOULS, sporting a memorably eerie organ score. Many of the scenes of the walking dead would have little to distinguish them if not for the excellent score.

And those walking dead are a curious breed. In typical D'Amato fashion, any kind of cinematic or horror traditions are thrown out, and the man plays by his own rules. So it's no wonder that his living dead act like no other living dead. The dead are dressed in musty robes and shawls instantly recalling the Templars in De Ossorio's TOMBS OF THE BLIND DEAD. Of course, the zombies have the crusty, rotting visages lifted straight from a Fulci film. But the zombies are also quite agile, jumping from trees and grabbing rifles, much like Lenzi's atypical undead in his 1980 film CITY OF THE WALKING DEAD. Finally, the forefather of the zombie, George Romero, is not left out, for it seems the vacationers have an inherent knowledge of how to properly dispatch of a ghoul (that is, shooting them in the head). Unfortunately, the fx work just can't compare with the creativity and ingenuity of the zombies. Consisting of little more than smeary, muddy face paint with a handful of requisite maggots thrown on for good measure, the zombie fx is possibly the greatest betrayer of the film's budget.

But ENOTLD has a few startling sequences that again lift it above its humble roots. The standout sequence is undeniably an aquatic seduction of Gemser by George Eastman. Writhing in the foamy froth of the sea and watching the undead gather in a procession at the shore of the beach, the couple are engaged in a sort of doomed romanticism, beautifully punctuated by Kennedy's haunting and bizarre score. In this scene the ultimate summation of the film is achieved: the passion and lust of the warm-blooded mortals juxtaposed with the bloody, doomed appetites of the musty undead. Truly, this is an EROTIC NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD! There are also a few successful gore sequences (mostly in the last 30 minutes) that, while gory enough, don't really threaten Fulci or Romero as the kings of zombie jamborees. There is, however, a rather repugnant "oral castration" dispatched by Gemser obviously inspired by the demise of one of the murderous goons in Wes Craven's 1972 film LAST HOUSE ON THE LEFT.

One of D'Amato's rarest films, ENOTLD is worth the effort to locate. It is recommended to first wade in his unique oeuvre with more traditional fare (BEYOND THE DARKNESS, ANTROPOPHAGUS) before diving into such an acquired taste such as this. Many viewers will be bored, while many others will be sickened. It is a further challenge to enjoy because of the simple fact that the most complete prints of the film are in Italian only. Thankfully, though, it is a fair assumption that the dialogue is far from inspiring or groundbreaking. But a select few who are willing to forego these impediments will find it the one-of-a-kind thrill that only D'Amato could dream up.