Savage. Horrific. Cruel. Just a few words commonly used to sum up CANNIBAL HOLOCAUST, one of the most banned and hated films worldwide. But while director Ruggero Deodato's cannibalistic bad boy of 1979 may steal much of the spotlight, Deodato's 1976 prelude, JUNGLE HOLOCAUST, demands equal attention. Although rival Italian horror director Umberto Lenzi (actually most revered for his Italian crime films) may have been the first to grace the cinematic world with the cannibal film's dubious blessings in his 1973's MAN FROM DEEP RIVER, it was Deodato who truly brought the genre into its own. Deodato refreshingly declined from resorting to agonizingly embarrassing exploitation standbys such as painfully trite dialogue and laughable characters. The director clearly treated his cannibal films with the same respect and sophistication usually reserved for more classically revered genres as dramatic films and more thematic ventures. Out of this unique brew of a horror film consisting of coherence and primal bloodletting emerged some of Italian cinema's (and world cinema's) most disturbing and unforgettably brutal images.

The film begins with an expedition to the Jungles of Mexico where two adventurers (Massimo Foschi and Ivan Rassimov) are looking for their missing comrades who were seeking wealth in the jungle. The men come to the agonizing hypothesis that their prospectors may have indeed fallen victim to a savage, indigenous cannibal tribe in the jungle. Thanks to a faulty landing, the two men are seemingly helpless in the jungle. And when their pilot is brutally slain in a vicious jungle trap, it seems their fate is sealed. When Robert (Foschi) and Ralf (Rassimov) find their partner's abandoned campsite, their worst fears seemed to have come true. Rafting across violent rapids, the two men are violently separated upon the destruction of their raft and both meet very different fates among the cannibals, until they are once again united in the film's harrowing climax.

In some ways JUNGLE HOLOCAUST is actually superior to CANNIBAL HOLOCAUST. For one, the two protagonists are far better developed and written (Lamberto Bava was involved with the script) than the motley crew of amateur filmmakers in the other film. Both Robert and Ralf are shrewd, stoic and, most importantly, likable in their roles, easily building up the audience's concern for their inevitable peril. The writing is wonderfully devoid of the expected flat, declarative lines that inhabit much similar, low rent cannibal/gore fare. In many instances the script is aptly understated and intelligent. Thankfully the dubbing is also lacking the erratic and awkward emotions and sensationalism prevalent in many other low budget import horror films.

Then, of course, there are the cannibals. The monsters of the film are indeed fearsome, often smeared in grime and dried (human) blood. Chanting frantically in a primal tongue, they brilliantly draw the line between civilization and twentieth century man. Also pleasantly unexpected is that Deodato does not relegate the requisite shock scenes to entrail ripping and cannibalism. The tribe itself is a living, breathing, and savage animal with horrifically graphic rituals, which Deodato allows the viewer to become a voyeur and greedily see. Many of the scenes of tribal rituals include sickening (and real) animal death and mutilation. As customary with this director, nothing is left to the imagination, as many members of the animal kingdom are sliced and hammered to death, writhing and squealing in agony. There is a particularly nasty scene with the slaughter of an alligator, which will undoubtedly resonate the same feelings of revulsion that the infamous "turtle scene" in CANNIBAL HOLOCAUST evoked.

In addition to the animals and men that inhabit it, the jungle itself proves an unforgiving and hostile enemy for the protagonists. The jungle is alive with malice. There is a particular scene where Robert, seeking to remedy his tremendous hunger, devours a seemingly benign mushroom. Immediately he convulses and vomits up the stuff, the camera oscillating wildly. Mother nature is not kind to our protagonists. In addition the rivers flow with stagnant, bacteria infested water, restricting hydration. When Robert joyously leaps into the river to wash himself, he is painfully reminded of the jungle's malevolent presence when bloodthirsty leeches ravage his body. The jungle's malevolence is beautifully realized by Deodato, enforcing the sense of inevitable danger and immediacy. All of the aforementioned functions of the jungle suggest a densely claustrophobic and unbearably hot, sweaty, and unrelenting force closing in on the characters. It seems that if the cannibals won't kill them, the jungle will have no trouble filling that vocation.

Undoubtedly adding to that crucial feeling of dread is an astonishing realism and the film's undying mission to shatter emotions. There is a breathtaking setpiece in a dank cave with thousands of tribesman chanting on their new captive Robert. There is much male and female nudity here, enforcing a sense of helplessness and nature's predisposition to violence and cruelty. In this same cave Robert is enslaved in a P.O.W. style tomb, where he rots away with astonishing depravity. The cannibals urinate on him, throw stones at him, and tease him with freedom. It is scenes like this where a character is so painfully tortured that effortlessly strengthen our sympathy and increase the feeling of devastation a thousand fold, and gives the film an edge over CANNIBAL HOLOCAUST. Emotions sway easier, the audience is unknowingly manipulated, and the outcome is more satisfying.

But what saves the film from monotony is a handful of surprisingly warm scenes. The addition of a benevolent member of the tribe (the beautiful MeMe Lay) provides an effective counterexample to the predictable thesis that the whole of the tribe is a bloodthirsty lot. Regardless of the obvious language barrier, MeMe conveys a kind aura towards Robert and their relationship grows somewhat during their time as fugitives from the tribe. An especially warm scene is when Robert wakes up, with hunger ravishing him, and finds that she has been gathering him food from the forest during his slumber. Again, the audience develops an affection for her, which is torturously shattered when she is brutally (the film's most heinous segment) murdered by the very tribe that has sheltered her. A triumph over the temptation to resort to cheap exploitation tactics, JUNGLE HOLOCAUST emerges as an essential contribution to the sub-genre. It seems unfair that Deodato's follow-up attracted the most attention and fan base, for its predecessor is at least entitled to equal praise (or infamy). But for those who are willing to brave its shrouded reputation, JUNGLE HOLOCAUST will prove itself as not just a horror film, but a surprisingly measured view on man's primal fears and inherent savagery.