Salon Kitty

The expensive, prestige end of the Nazi-brothel cycle, directed by Tinto Brass with a budget the Ilsa cheapies could only dream of and a filthy mind to match. Ingrid Thulin runs a Berlin pleasure-house that the SD quietly wires for sound, so every senior officer's night off becomes an intelligence file. Helmut Berger swans through it as the SS schemer working the strings. Brass shoots the whole apparatus of decadence and surveillance with cold, gilded relish and a great deal of skin. It looks like real money, which is what the down-market knock-offs were built to undercut. Handsome, cynical, and nasty under the varnish.