I corpi presentano tracce di violenza carnale (1973) is one proto-slasher that I never watched until the last couple days, and boy, I have been missing out. Less than 10 seconds into the movie, there is pretty much full-frontal nakedness and Torso doesn’t let up from there. Just about every male leers, gawks, or ogles the women; the women, in return, shove burning joints into men’s bare chests [don’t get me wrong; the guys deserve it]. The murderer also saws the arms and legs off his victims.

Keep in mind this is 1973.

In a time when lectures ruled the world.

Don’t worry: this guy isn’t really going to Columbia.

Now time for a jazz cigarette.

When hiding out in a villa, there is nothing like some J&B.

Sure we might be murdered and sawed up, but we are elegant victims.

Oh J&B, you same-sex social lubricant, you.

Hates dolls, hates women, loves J&B.

One thing to remember: “I don’t care if you are queer or impotent, you pay the price anyway.”

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