Salon Kitty
Mamma mia, this is Caligula with less acting, and even more bad taste. The expression rompere i coglioni is uttered non ironically, but it might as well relate to actual testicles.
There is some insane scene involving cock-and-balls shaped bread, a film projector, and some SS higher up fellating said bread. That’s the kind of bad taste I’m talking about.
There’s also the funnier kind of bad taste, an all-male version of Can-Can, complete with dangling penises.
This is one crazy trivia from Wikipedia:
Production designer Ken Adam had recently suffered a nervous breakdown while working on Barry Lyndon, and he described his participation in this film as creatively regenerative
There’s even an alleged plot about a true Nazi believer, daughter of some aristo family who hates her conservative parents, who gets drafted into the Kitty brothel for her steadfast political beliefs. In the course of her, ahem, duties, she falls in love with an anti-war soldier. Since the Nazis are surveilling the rooms, he is killed for treason.
Bizarrely, the madame is apolitical and teams up with the newly turned porca puttana to create their petty personal version of Red Orchestra: record and denounce their handler. Then the Allies bomb the brothel, the end, roll credits.
This is my place for ramblings about sequences of images that exploit the human visual limitation know as persistence of vision.