a.k.a. L’alcova
rating: 
company: Filmirage
and Golden Hawk
year: 1984
runtime: 93′
country: Italy
director: Joe D’Amato
cast: Lilli Carati, Annie Belle,
Al Cliver, Laura Gemser,
Roberto Caruso, Nello Pazzafini
writer: Ugo Moretti
cinematography: Joe D’Amato
music: Manuel De Sica
disc company: Severin Films
release date: February 23, 2010
retail price: $29.98
disc details: Region 1 / NTSC / dual layer
video: 1.85:1 / anamorphic / progressive
audio: Dolby Digital 2.0 monophonic English
subtitles: none
reviewed from a screener provided
by Severin Films LLC
order this film from Amazon.com
Plot: A military officer brings an African princess home with him to act as a domestic servant, only to have her take control of the seedy goings ons at his Italian villa.
1984 was a slow year for low budget exploitation guru Joe D’Amato, with this and the infamous The Blade Master – the sequel to Ator the Fighting Eagle, best remembered for being MSTied under the title of Cave Dwellers – being his only releases for the year. While The Blade Master sets the benchmark for zero-budget spaghetti in-adventure, D’Amato appears to have focused more than his usual share of attention to the direction of The Alcove. It ranks as one of the better of his nearly 200 films, not that those of you of more discerning taste will find much consolation in that.
The period story takes place entirely, with the exception of two or three brief scenes, at the isolated villa of Ello (Al Cliver, Zombie, Devil Huner), an officer just returned from duty in Africa. Along with a hefty assortment of souvenir trinkets, Ello brings an African princess named Zerbal (Laura Gemser, Erotic Nights of the Living Dead), gifted to him by a chieftain, into his household. Wife and mistress of the household Alessandra (Lilli Carati, Escape from Women’s Prison) is none too happy to have a savage in her midst, a view echoed by Wilma (Annie Belle, Black Velvet, Horrible), a secretary with whom Alessandra has been having a lesbian tryst in her husband’s absence.
Zerbal is equally unhappy with her new position in a “cultured” society, and wastes no time in making trouble. She wiggles her way into her own relationship with Alessandra, using her new status as the mistress’ preferred pet to take more control around the household. Wilma is spurned while Zerbal and Alessandra ride the high life on cocaine and champaign bubbles, ignoring the fact that Ello’s finances are teetering on the brink of complete collapse.
The story by Ugo Moretti (Orgazmo) slogs along at a snail’s pace, wading through poorly written melodrama to get to the all important naughty bits. Things take a turn for the interesting only in the final half hour, when Ello comes up with a scheme to make money fast by producing his own pornographic films starring the women of the house. D’Amato takes the opportunity to dress Alessandra up for some nunsploitation-by-proxy, spicing things up with a brief but hardcore vintage short. Even the villa gardener (Nello Pazzafini, The Pumaman, Star Odyssey) gets in on the action, exposing his member while Alessandra’s nun squats over a restrained Wilma and Zerbal looks on with a whip! It may not be sexy, but it’s more than enough to validate The Alcove‘s sleazy reputation.
I’ve never been a terribly big fan of D’Amato muse Laura Gemser, who has appeared in just about every sub-genre the director dabbled in but is most remembered for her turns in the Black Emanuelle series. Her performance here is as bland and uncharismatic as I’ve come to expect, though I doubt anyone is coming to The Alcove to admire her acting chops anyway. All fans need to know is that she bares her physical assets early and often, as does the rest of the female cast. Al Cliver’s pants remain firmly in place for the duration, thankfully.
The Alcove makes its first appearance on domestic DVD in fine form, and is one of the better of Severin Films’ recent SD releases. The 1.78:1 (listed as 1.85:1 on the case, which also says the running time is 97 as opposed to the actual 93 minutes) transfer may be cropped a bit too tightly for this European production, but D’Amato’s compositions don’t seem to suffer any ill effects. Progressive and anamorphic, the transfer faithfully represents the diffused style of the film and presents with good detail when the situation calls for it. Colors are strong, though contrast is a little flat, and grain (and some video noise, particularly in darker scenes) is present throughout. I have no doubt that it’s a competent representation of how the film would have looked theatrically, and I’m pleased overall. Audio is a decent Dolby Digital 2.0 monophonic English dub, though the mixing of the original master seems to have been less than stellar. I found myself cranking up the volume to hear dialogue, only to have to turn it down again whenever Manuel De Sica’s score kicked in. There are no subtitles.
Supplements are sparse, but Severin looks to have dug deep to find even this much. The primary extra is a supplement listed as Talking Dirty with Joe D’Amato on the case, actually an unnamed 11 minute snippet of an interview with the director from the mid 1990s. Quality is a little iffy on the tape-sourced interview, here pillarboxed into a 16:9 enhanced frame, but that’s not really a problem – fans of the director will want to see it either way. The only other supplement is a tape-sourced trailer in pretty bad shape, blown up to no good effect to fit a 16:9 frame.
And that’s it, I think. The Alcove is another in a long line of generally drab and occassionally raunchy Joe D’Amato softcore efforts, but it’s better than most of the same. There are certainly moments to recommend – the absurd homemade pornography scene and the exploding film can finale in particular (remember kids, porn kills!) – and it’s worth checking out for those keen on the genre. There’s nothing wrong with the Severin Films release, due out the 23rd of February, and Gemser fanatics will want to indulge.
