Made as iconic director/cinematographer Joe D’Amato was approaching the end of his prolific career (and yet, with another 97 adult-oriented films to go), Provocation / Provocazione is basically softcore adult masquerading as erotica, with long sex sequences lacking the graphic intercourse details D’Amato was well-experienced with in his hardcore efforts.
The countryside location – an old inn made of quarried stone – adds the right rustic atmosphere in this familiar tale of an innkeeper’s wife (Fabrizia Flanders) who fancies a visiting businessman (Lyle Lovett lookalike Antonio Ascani, aka “Tony Roberts”), while her husband Gianni Demartiis) goes after his cousin (Erika Savastani), set to live at the house after the recent death of her papa. An idiot nephew (Lindo Damiani) indulges in some masturbatory voyeurism by sneaking around the house without his shoes and peering through floor cracks at everyone else’s fun time.
The characters are flat, D’Amato’s directorial style can’t craft any sense of humour beyond exchanges of berating insults (most inflicted on the nephew), and the performances vary in quality; the older actors fare the best, whereas Ascani seems very uncomfortable (maybe it’s the ill-fitting, wrinkled up linen suit), and Savastani’s healthy figure can’t mask her complete lack of talent.
D’Amato also slaps on stock music, and repeats the same cheesy early eighties muzak over sex scenes, and the film isn’t particularly well lit – perhaps a sign that his years in porn made him lazy after filming some very stylish ‘scope productions (such as the blazingly colourful L’Anticristo).
D’Amato’s efforts to make something more upscale isn’t a failure – there’s more than enough nudity to keep fans happy – and one can argue he was still capable of making a slick commercial product after going bonkers with sex, blood, and animals in his most notorious efforts. The photography and editing have a basic classical style, but there’s no energy in the film, making Provocation a work best-suited for D’Amato fans and completists.
Mya’s DVD comes from a decent PAL-NTSC conversion, although there’s some flickering in the opening titles. The details are sharp, the colours stable, but there lighting is rather harsh, as though the transfer was made from a high contrast print. (The film’s titles, Italian at the beginning, and English at the end - “The story, all names, characters and incidentals portrayed in this production, are fictitius” - are also video-based, indicating Provocation was meant as product for video rental shelves.)
Besides English and Italian dub tracks, there are no extras, which is a shame, given something could’ve been written about the product and its cast, many of whom were pinched by D’Amato from prior Tinto Brass productions. Savastani had just appeared as a bit player in Brass’ The Voyeur / L'Uomo che guarda (1994), and would move on with co-star Demartiis to Fermo posta Tinto Brass / P.O. Box Tinto Brass (1995) and Senso ’45 / Black Angel (2002).
© 2009 Mark R. Hasan
|
Mkvcinemas Old Movies Exclusive -
In that sense, “old movies exclusive” is not just a marketing phrase. It is a cultural symptom: how communities define their cinematic heritage when official institutions lag, when globalization erases local prints faster than archives can catalog them, when the hunger for stories outpaces the mechanisms that make them legally and safely available. It’s both a critique of bureaucratic inertia and a testament to grassroots care—people refusing to let celluloid narratives dissolve into white noise.
So the phrase lingers—“old movies exclusive”—a shorthand for a mixed history. It evokes illicit midnight triumphs and tender rescues, grain and crackle and the smell of rewind. It names a community’s hunger for stories and the messy solutions they devised. And behind the nostalgia is a durable question: How do we keep the past vivid, accessible, and ethically cared for? The answer, like a restored frame flickering alive, demands both affection and labor—an acknowledgment that some things are worth preserving, properly, for everyone. mkvcinemas old movies exclusive
There is tenderness in how people treated those files. For some users they were lifelines: a subtitled print of a beloved foreign melodrama that never found theatrical distribution in their country, or a grainy recording of a regional classic whose prints had decayed in municipal vaults. For others it was a thrill—an illicit exhilaration in circumventing the formal circuits of exhibition and curation. Either way, the archives that circulated under that name carried with them histories: the breathy timbre of a lost actor, a jump cut that betrays a torn reel, a carefully fan-translated subtitle that preserved humor and heartbreak in equal, imperfect measure. In that sense, “old movies exclusive” is not
And yet, for those who remember the era, the appeal was emotional rather than legal. It was the knowledge that a story—of heartbreak, of laughter, of an old country lane drenched in sodium-vapor light—was accessible in the small hours. There’s a distinct intimacy to watching a film via a shaky rip: the audio swells, someone’s dog barks in the background of the uploader’s kitchen, subtitles trail off where the scanner missed a frame. The imperfections become part of the viewing ritual; the film’s age and the viewing method fuse into a single artifact of memory. And behind the nostalgia is a durable question:
The exclusive thrill fades, however, if we equate exclusivity with moral clarity. If the point is to honor cinema’s past, exclusivity must eventually yield to stewardship—transparent restoration, proper credit, fair remuneration when possible, and an infrastructure that respects both creators and audiences. That infrastructure won’t feel as anarchic or immediate as a late-night download, but it offers a different kind of intimacy: the slow work of bringing a damaged print back to its light and making it available without the moral cost of erasure. |
![Multimedia Links [lots]](https://www.kqek.com/main/side_panel/side_k_FM_relatedlinks_gif.gif)
