This Italian obscurity is certainly the wildest production of Oscar Wilde's Salome you'll ever see. For that matter, it's one the most outrageous films ever made. Overflowing with eye-burning colors, bellowed dialogue, hyper-kinetic editing and camerawork, costumes and props made of neon (?), and even vampires(??), director Carmelo Bene's film is an unrelenting, wall-to-wall sensory assault that still manages to find time for quiet, lyrical moments. Not much is known about Salome; its origins are anyone's guess. It appears to have been made in the mid-sixties-early-seventies period. The film is a unique viewing experiencedifficult to like, even more difficult to forget.
* A double feature of Salome and Pinocchio 964 could doubtless crack the most stable of minds.	Even though the technical effects aren't up to mega-budget Hollywood standards, they are effective within this film's lunatic universe. The art direction suggests a head-on collision between Heironymous Bosch and Andy Warhol with dozens of naked extras cavorting among deliberately artificial, multi-colored neon props. The acting could charitably be called over-the-top as performers shout nearly all their dialogue at the top of their lungs. The camera-work is as spastic as anything since the advent of MTV. And the editing appears to have been employed with a chainsaw (very few shots are held for more than five seconds). The result is an often annoying yet intense viewing experience.
* And what about the numerous flashes of vampire fangs worn by many of the actors, complete with the inevitable though brief neck-biting? For all of Oscar Wilde's well-known preferences for unbridled decadence, I doubt he ever dreamed of anything like this.	If you're at all familiar with Wilde's play, or the biblical passages upon which it's based, then you know the story. Salome, the whorish daughter of queen Herod, is lusted after by her depraved stepfather, King Tetrac. When her attempted seduction of the visiting John The Baptist fails, she agrees to satisfy her stepfather's perverted whims through the infamous dance of the seven veils. She then demands that Tetrac do her bidding and murder John The Baptist. Needless to say, writer-director Carmelo Bene offers quite a few unique twists. For starters, Salome's first dialogue with John The Baptist is shouted back and forth with John stationed on a boat in the middle of a river and Salome back on shore; each time he rejects her advances, he's hit over the head with a thick book by one of Salome's servants. Even more bizarre is Salome's final confrontation with Tetrac; as he quickly descends into utter madness, she peels the skin from his face.*
* Carmelo Bene's work shows a sensibility every bit as ingeniously warped as those of cinematic wackos Ken Russell and Alejandro Jodorowsky.	Like his film, director Carmelo Bene is unknown in this country. While I wouldn't call Bene's work good, there are some extraordinary moments.* Examples include the soundless opening montage of bizarre and decadent imagery, a good introduction for the film we are about to see; a man crucifying himself on a flashing neon cross; Tetrac's final speech, delivered in an endless babble as the camera madly zooms in and out; and of course Salome's scandalous dance of the seven veils, surprisingly the most haunting, lyrical sequence in the movie. But Bene's most intelligent decision was keeping Salome's running time barely 80 minutes mercifully brief. Although he shows little restraint in the film's imagery, Bene does appear to know when enough is enough.
	Salome Cinecitta Productions Director: Carmelo Bene Producer: Paulo Mercuri Screenwriter: Carmelo Bene (Based on the play by Oscar Wilde) Cinematography: Mario Masini Editor: Mauro Contini Cast: Donyale Luna, Lydia Mancinelli, Alfiero Vincenti, Carmelo Bene, Piero Vida, Franco Leo, Roberto Ignozzi, Marco Carelli, Dakar, Juan Fernandez
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