Black Emanuelle History Month gets a little botched with this one. Joe D'Amato hands over the directorial reins to spaghetti western & peplum vet Giuseppe Vari and the results are not inspiring. Emanuelle, repenting of her sluttery, joins a convent that retrains female juvenile delinquents. Trouble arrives in the form of a brazen and apparently middle-aged teenage girl (Monica Zanchi, who we'll meet again in the next Emanuelle post).
It's a fine story, to be sure. But taking the plucky Emanuelle and denuding her of her harlot crown doesn't work well. I'm not Catholic, thank God, but I can't picture anyone getting excited by Emanuelle spending most of the movie dressed like a fancy napkin. Her acting actions are mostly devoted to scolding and being shocked, too. Which means that Monica Zanchi has to provide the requisite amounts of scuzz and she's miscast as a teen and the film also seems very restrained in comparison with the sleazy anarchy of previous Em sequels.
This attempts to be a far more conventional film, devoting lots of time to relationship drama and broad farce. Parts of it work, like the legit funny stuff involving one nun's bladder problems. But, please, Sister Emanuelle. We put down our money with certain expectations and you give us teenage crying and arguments? Most dreadfully, the movie barely cares about sex scenes. What we get is shot in ugly close-ups of pale skin rubbing gross hirsute man chest (Gabriele Tinti, who played a different character in Emanuelle in America). Gemser barely contributes, doing a repeated bored solo disrobing, like the world's sleepiest stripteaser. It was probably fun for her to do something different with this character, but it's no fun for us to watch.
People expecting an Emanuelle movie are going to be unsatisfied and people who like sophisticated real cinema are going to be unimpressed by the amateur work here. I haven't seen the next sequel, Last Cannibals, yet, but I'm pretty confident that you can skip this one and move on to the next phase of Black Emanuelle.