Whirlpool (1970)

A Danish-UK co-production directed by a Spainard and featuring then populat Page Three model Vivian Neves, Whirlpool (1970), seems like it should be some kind of wild erotic thriller, full of bizarre sex and psychedelia.  In reality, it is a pretty downbeat affair, focused of sex, violence and obsessive behaviour.  Jose Larraz's first directorial credit, the film never quite attains the weirdness of his best known film, Vampyres (1974), with its thrills remaining firmly grounded in everyday reality rather than venturing into the supernatural.  Like most of Larraz's films, Whirlpool was clearly shot on a very low budget, with most of the action confined to a remote cottage and neighbouring woods and a limited cast - indeed, for much of the film there are only three characters present.  Even when other characters appear, they are only cursorily sketched in, existing primarily as dramatic contrivances.  The core of the plot centres on Sarah (Pia Andersson), a photographer edging into middle age, who owns the cottage, where she lives with her adoptive 'nephew', Theo (Karl Lanchbury), an aspiring photographer and Tulia (Vivian Neves), a model who Sarah invites for the weekend, so that Theo can photograph her.  Looming over the three is a fourth, unseen, chatacter, Rhonda, the previous model to pose for Theo, who seems to have disappeared.  The plot unfolds in much the manner one might expect, with Theo hiding a dark secret in his cellar dark room, a strange old tramp wandering the woods and spying on Theo's shoots with Tulia, who is seduced first by Theo - who can't perform one-on-one - then Sarah, before engaging in a threesome (where Theo can perform).  It all builds to a downbeat 'twist' ebding that will surprise no-one familiar with the genre.

What makes Whirlpool stand out from similar films, though, is the level of violence (mainly directed toward women) - with Tulia suffering a sexual assault in the woods by one of Theo's associates, which stops just short of rape - and the amount of pretty explicit (for a 1970 non-porn film) sex, including the afore-mentioned threesome and Tulia and Sarah's lesbian encounter.  Certainly, it was apparently too much for the British censor, as the film was originally released in the UK (under the title She Died With Her Boots On) with twenty minutes of footage, (comprising most of the sex and violence) removed.  Like most of Larraz's work, Whirpool is very decently made, with an excellent use of locations.  The bleak and wintry countryside around the cottage, particularly the woods, become a sinister presence, filled with foreboding, characterised by an ominous quiet.  The outbursts of violence seem even more extreme, staged against the background of the english countryside, a location usually associated with peace and tranquility.  His screenplay is also above average for such a film, if not in terms of its subject matter, then in at least providing its main cast with some half decent dialogue and allowing its story to unfold straightforwardly.  Larraz keeps everything low-key, which once again makes the violence, when it erupts, seem all the more shocking.  While there's nothing really ground-breaking in Whirlpool, it is a decently made, if humourless and stony faced, piece of early seventies exploitation, whose violence is filmed in a way that is still disconcerting, if not shocking.