Directed by Jess Franco
Written by Jess Franco
Starring:
- Al Cliver as Jeremy Taylor
- Sabrina Siani as Lana
- Shirley Knight as Barbara Shelton
- Lina Romay as Ana
- Olivier Mathot as Charles Fenton
Rating: 
Wackadoodle Francoisms intercept the Italian cannibal boom yielding appalling yet amusing effects in this lo-fi Spanish-Italian exploitation production. Only pervy Uncle Jess could have rendered the anthropophagous tradition into a scenario of incongruities low on mondo-style adventure, little peril and zero animal cruelty, but high on unintentional anachronisms, bikini ladies, a horny Lina Romay, lots of goofballs and a perpetually undressed 17-year-old Sabrina Siani. You still get your customary fix of gut-munching shenanigans though. But please keep in mind that the man behind the camera is a self-confessed hater of the cannibal genre, hence it’s not as thrilling as a movie titled White Cannibal Queen ought to be.
Throughout his prolific career, the Spanish filmmaker had a short-lived foray into the genre. He helmed just two films cashing in on the popularity of the Italian cannibal exploitation subgenre, this one and the other infamous Video Nasty Devil Hunter, both shot back-to-back in 1980. In addition, Franco also had an uncredited involvement in the awful French take on the cannibal genre, 1981’s Cannibal Terror, which he co-wrote. Unlike his other excursions into the cannibal jungles, White Cannibal Queen is the only one capable of genuinely attaining the prospect of a so-bad-it’s-good entertainment.
Opening with ominous tribal music courtesy of Roberto Pregadio, the setting is immediately compelling as it frames an imminent danger across its paradisiacal vista evoking terror and doom. Al Cliver and his wife and young daughter are suddenly assaulted by ruthless natives, who first devour his wife – in slow-mo style – and then kidnap his little daughter, convinced that she is some sort of goddess they must worship. Years later, an expedition is arranged to rescue the missing girl from the hostile wilderness. It is meant to be a taut jungle journey, but for Jess it clearly isn’t, preferring to point his camera at the salacious innuendos, which to my amazement, this is the rare Franco film where the sex is subdued and even gentle, more gestural than carnal. The good news is that the film ends as soon as it begins, making it appetizing trash that can be relished without getting ennui-inducing. Even some Francophiles may find this tawdry slice of trashy filmmaking a bit unusual considering Jess’s already markedly unusual output, yet I think that’s essentially what Jess Franco was aiming for when he attempted to make an absurdist cannibal product that he felt nothing but disdain for.
The overall result is laughable indeed, but at least we can report that our esteemed Uncle Jess added his indelible identity to the cannibal lore. I mean can anyone give me any subgenre of European exploitation that this director hasn’t already dabbled in? There is no such thing as a veteran exploitation director as Jess Franco turned out to be. Relentless schlock from the master at it that once again defies every concept behind good art and bad.
