Tune In Tuesday : Orgasmo (88 Films)

88 Films’ Blu-ray release of Orgasmo (1969) is a feast for the senses—if your senses are tuned to the frequency of sleazy 1960s jet-set thrillers drenched in sex, betrayal, and existential dread.This 1969 Umberto Lenzi gem, starring the inimitable Carroll Baker, might just be the ultimate cocktail of Eurocult indulgence, shaken to perfection by 88 Films with a transfer so lush it could make even the gaudiest shag carpet look high art.

First, let’s talk picture quality. The restoration here is pristine, popping with all the vibrant, sun-drenched decadence of Baker’s luxurious villa, offset by shadows that practically ooze menace. Those soft-focus close-ups of Baker, every bead of sweat on her brow and every tremble of paranoia etched into her features, are delivered with a clarity that’s both intoxicating and unnerving. If this doesn’t convert you into a devotee of Lenzi’s “jet-set giallo” phase, I don’t know what will.

The soundtrack? Oh, it’s pure Morricone-lite gold, slinking along with jazzy grooves, sultry whispers, and the kind of eerie vocal flourishes that make you feel like you’re spiraling down a champagne-soaked nightmare. And yes, 88 Films made sure every note hits like a cigarette exhaled under a summer moon—both dreamy and dangerous.

Special features are the icing on this poison-laced cake. There’s a fascinating video essay that delves into Lenzi’s shift from pulpy action to psychological thrillers, alongside interviews with Italian genre experts who treat these films with the reverence of sacred texts. Plus, a sit-down with a visibly bemused Carroll Baker reminiscing about the Italian film industry in its most flamboyant era is worth the price of admission alone.

But the real joy of Orgasmo lies in its fever-dream absurdity. Lenzi pulls you in with the promise of glossy escapism and then flips the switch, dragging you into a web of manipulation and madness. The power games between Baker, her seemingly charming houseguests, and her own fractured psyche escalate into a kaleidoscope of late-60s hedonism and dread. It’s Psycho meets La Dolce Vita, with a generous dash of soap opera camp. 

If you’re a fan of psychosexual thrillers, twisted morality tales, or just want an excuse to ogle Carroll Baker’s pitch-perfect meltdown in high definition, this Blu-ray is a must-own. 88 Films didn’t just give us Orgasmo, they gave us a first-class ticket to giallo nirvana. Don’t overthink it. Press play, pour a martini, and surrender.