Geh, zieh dein Dirndl aus (4 Stars)

Released at the height of the Bavarian sex-comedy boom, "Geh zieh dein Dirndl aus" (i.e. "Take off your dirndl") is exactly the kind of film that critics usually dismiss with a shrug and audiences secretly remember with affection. It's broad, cheeky and utterly unconcerned with subtlety, yet beneath all the innuendo and slapstick chaos there's a fascinating snapshot of a particular moment in West German popular cinema. The film belongs to that strange early-1970's period when Lederhosen comedies became enormously profitable by mixing postcard Bavaria, sexual liberation and old-fashioned farce into one commercially irresistible package.

What makes the film especially interesting today is the presence of Dorothea Rau. She was never promoted internationally on the level of stars like Uschi Glas or Ingrid Steeger, but within the Lederhosen cycle she became one of its defining faces. Rau had an unusual screen presence for these productions. Many actresses in the genre were presented almost entirely as decorative fantasy figures; Dorothea Rau, by contrast, often projected intelligence, confidence and a slightly mischievous sense of self-awareness. She understood the joke the films were making and seemed to enjoy playing along with it.

In "Geh zieh dein Dirndl aus", that quality becomes essential. The film itself is assembled from the usual ingredients; misunderstandings, frustrated husbands, sexually adventurous tourists and endless opportunities for clothing to be removed at strategically comic moments. But Rau gives the material a spark that elevates it beyond mechanical sex farce. She moves through the absurd situations with complete confidence, never looking embarrassed or trapped by the material. Instead, she turns the film's exaggerated sexuality into part of the comedy itself.

Her importance to the Lederhosen comedies wasn't simply that she appeared in them; plenty of actresses did. What distinguished Rau was that she helped define the tone of the genre during its commercial peak. These films depended on balancing eroticism with friendliness. If they became too vulgar, audiences recoiled; if they became too innocent, audiences lost interest. Rau occupied that middle ground perfectly. She brought glamour and sensuality, but also warmth and humour. That balance helped make the films feel playful rather than aggressive.

Watching the film now, it's also striking how strongly the Lederhosen cycle reflected changing attitudes in West Germany after the social upheavals of the late 1960's. The films pretended to celebrate rustic tradition, yet they were really about modern permissiveness invading conservative environments. Dirndls, beer halls and Alpine villages became colourful packaging for stories about sexual freedom. In that sense, performers like Dorothea Rau were central to the genre's success because they embodied the contradiction. She looked perfectly at home within the traditional Bavarian imagery while simultaneously representing the more liberated attitudes the films were selling.

Artistically, "Geh zieh dein Dirndl aus" won't convert anyone who already hates the Lederhosen comedies. The jokes are repetitive, the plotting barely matters and the filmmaking is functional at best. Yet the film survives as an entertaining cultural artefact and as a reminder of how important performers can be within supposedly disposable cinema. Dorothea Rau may never have become a major international star, but within this uniquely German subgenre she was one of its defining personalities; charming, playful and absolutely essential to its appeal.

I was excited to find out that Dorothea Rau grew up in Münchingen, the village where I live, in a small house next to the cemetery. The address is Kontaler Straße 18. People who remember her think of her as a scandalous porn star. They don't get it. There was never any real sex in the Bavarian sex comedies or in any of the German erotic films of the 1970's. People were fast to judge things that they knew nothing about.

Alpenglühen im Dirndlrock (4 Stars)

This is a Bavarian erotic comedy made in 1974. I had a surprise when I looked up the word Alpenglühen in my dictionary: the English translation is alpenglow, a word I'd never heard before. So what does it mean? It's an optical phenomenon that only occurs at sunset in areas with high mountains. When the sun goes down behind a mountain, but not below the horizon that would be seen if the mountain weren't there, the sky becomes red opposite to the sun. So the film's title means "Alpenglow in a Dirndl skirt". That's a strange title, because we hardly see any Dirndls in the film.

The film is about a small town in Bavaria called Vögelbrunn, which is deeply in debt. The village is fictional, but it's supposed to be located close to Kitzbühel. The mayor hopes that the problems will be solved if the town is made a market town, in German a Marktgemeinde. This is something that only exists in Austria and Bavaria, not in the rest of Germany. It doesn't mean that a market will necessarily be run in the town, because that could be done immediately. It means that the town has a minimum size and is recognised as providing services to neighbouring towns. For instance, a town could qualify as a market town if it's the only town in the area that has swimming baths or a large shopping centre. Vögelbrunn has built swimming baths and a sauna, the main reason for the town's debt, but it's still too small. The population needs to increase by seven before the next census in ten months time.

If I were the Mayor of Vögelbrunn I'd solve the problem by encouraging, even bribing families to move into the town. It doesn't have to be permanent, they just have to be in the town for the census. The mayor does it differently. He encourages the population to have babies. Every woman who has a baby within ten months will be paid a reward of 2000 Marks, even if she isn't married.

Not everyone is happy with this decision. Hedda, played by Elisabeth Volkmann, organises a morality commission. This organisation has two tasks. First, they arrange meetings of the town's young women to sing hymns. Second, they spy on the young people and interrupt them if they think they're about to have sex.

My apologies for the poor quality of the screenshot. This is a film that hasn't been well preserved.

I've mentioned Elisabeth Volkmann a few times in my past reviews. She's most famous for being the German voice of Marge Simpson from 1989 to 2006.

Naturally, the mayor doesn't want his two teenage daughters to get pregnant. Does that make him a hypocrite? Incidentally, that's the wonderful actress Ulrike Butz on the left.

The town's chemist works on a potency formula to make the people in the town want more sex. Whatever it is, I don't want it. Most of his potions explode as they're being prepared.

The Italian Roberto Ravioli, played by Rinaldo Talamonti, arrives in the town looking for work. He's mistaken for a state inspector who's been sent to judge Vögelbrunn's suitability as a market town. He's given a free room in the inn and as much food as he can eat. But that's not all he gets. The women in the town can't resist his Italian charm.

When he goes to the sauna he's chased by five naked women. That's too much even for Roberto. One at a time, please.

Roberto disguises himself as a woman and goes to sing hymns with the good girls of the town. I'm sure the actress on the right wasn't supposed to be laughing. She couldn't control herself when Rinaldo hit the high notes.

The film is hilarious. It's a mixture of nudity and slapstick comedy, with the emphasis on the nudity. I'll give away two spoilers:

1. Ten months later there are seven new babies in the town.

2. All the babies look Italian.

Geh, zieh dein Dirndl aus (4½ Stars)

This is a Bavarian erotic comedy made in 1973. It's generally considered to be the first film in its genre, setting the pattern for many films with Lederhosen and Dirndls in the following years. The title means "Take your Dirndl off", as Dorothea Rau is doing in the photo above. In America the film was released as "Love Bavarian Style". I hate it when they arbitrarily change film titles!

Gisela Horn, a woman from Berlin, has bought a farm in the Bavarian alps, close to the Austrian border. This is met with hostility by the locals, who consider her to be a Prussian. They use the derogatory word Preißin when talking about her. Worst of all, she's a very moral person. She's always complaining about the farm employees having sex when they should be working.

This is Gisela, played by the famous German actress Elisabeth Volkmann. She doesn't fit in because she doesn't even wear a Dirndl.

Nobody fills a Dirndl as well as Dorothea Rau. She plays Resi, a waitress at the local inn.

Life in the village is further disrupted when a car breaks down carrying four Italians. Count Traverso of Venice has sent his two daughters to Germany to learn the language. Vittorio (Rinaldo Talamonti) is the chaperone, and Mario is the driver. They're on their way to Bielefeld, but the car crashes because the driver is gay and can't keep his hands off Vittorio. They have to stay at the inn.

The film doesn't have much of a plot, but I love it anyway. It's a series of comic sketches that kept me laughing out loud. Naked women, inappropriate humour, constantly changing partners with people running in and out of one another's bedrooms. Many of the 1970's German films are called Erotic Classics, but the term is used too lightly. "Geh, zieh dein Dirndl aus" is a true classic. It deserves a digital remastering to clean up the picture.

Any film with Rinaldo Talamonti is worth watching.

So is any film with Dorothea Rau.

Do you prefer her with or without a Dirndl?

Sadly, she gave up acting after only three years, leaving 21 films behind her.

Rinaldo is a gentleman. He tries to look into Dorothea's eyes when he talks to her.

Oh well, at least he tried. At his height it's difficult to resist temptation.

And the film ends with a Lederhosen dance, complete with stomping and leg slapping.

I can tell you, this dance isn't just comical for foreigners. Even Germans from other parts of the country find the Bavarian traditional dances hilarious. I'm sure that the director Siggi Götz (aka Siegfried Rothemund) was aware of this. This was his first film, and he's still making films today. 

Here are a few lobby cards that I found online. I wish I had the originals.

Sex Dream Report (3½ Stars)

This is a German erotic comedy that was released in 1973. It was directed by Walter Boos, who's best known for directing the Schoolgirl Report films. This film follows a similar pattern of short stories separated by interviews on the street. Dr. Heinz Kahlbaum is gathering material for a book on sexual dreams. Together with his assistant Gisela he's standing at Karlsplatz in Munich asking passers by about their dreams. Most of the people he asks refuse to answer, but there are five vignettes based on the replies he receives.

1. The first person to give a detailed answer is the bus driver Willi Wasmuth, played by Josef Moosholzer. He's 35, and his wife Erna is 30. By all accounts, he's an unpleasant person. When he gets home from work he orders his wife to fetch him a beer. No please or thank you. Then he falls asleep in front of the television. He dreams that the weather girl strips naked and seduces him. His wife is so beautiful that I don't understand why he prefers dreams to reality.

2. The second man who answers is Max Gickes, a sculptor. He says that he dreams of owning a harem. Four sexy dancing girls take turns having sex with him, while a fifth fans him to keep him cool. Gisela finds the dream strange, but Dr. Kahlbaum tells her it's a typical male fantasy. Then Max tells them that the dream is based on his real life. He shares an apartment with four women. He sleeps with Anna on Monday, Betty on Tuesday, Cecilia on Wednesday and Daisy on Thursday. This wears him out, so he goes home to his wife for the other three days. Obviously Max doesn't know the difference between truth and fantasy.

3. Another man who gets dreams mixed up with reality is Dieter Haberkorn, a travel agent. Every day he gets a parking ticket from the beautiful traffic warden Monika, played by Ulrike Butz. He tells her that they've had a relationship, but she tells him that he's mad. We see his ridiculous fantasy of them having sex in a courtroom. He really thinks it's happened. He persuades her to go on a date with him, but he insists that she wear her uniform. Or is this yet another dream? I don't know. All I can say is that I'd also dream about any policewoman as beautiful as Ulrike Butz. She was the sexiest German actress of the 1970's. Her career only lasted from 1972 to 1974, during which time she made 27 films.

4. Eugen is a medical student. He marries Franziska, the butcher's daughter, played by the delightful Dorothea Rau. On the wedding night he can't perform – What!!! He can't get it up for Dorothea Rau??? – so she does what any disappointed bride would do: she hits him over the head with a chamber pot and puts him in hospital. While he's recovering he dreams about marrying the nurse who's looking after him. The dream cures him, and he's able to go home to his happy wife.

5. The final interview takes place spontaneously. Dr. Kahlbaum and Gisela visit a restaurant, where they talk to the waiter Tonio, played by Rinaldo Talamonti. He says he's always had a crush on the restaurant's owner, Karla Marquadt. Isn't she a bit too tall for him? After months of dreaming about her they finally got together.

Some report films are better than others, but they're never original. I knew what the final scene would be before I watched it. Gisela confesses that she's been dreaming about making love to Dr. Kahlbaum. She tells him about her dreams and attempts to seduce him. At first he resists. He wants to remain professional, but eventually he gives in. The End.

This isn't one of the best German erotic comedies of the 1970's, but it's amusing and worth watching at least once. I intend to watch more German erotic comedies over the next few weeks. I don't know how many yet. I'll decide as I go along.

Graf Porno und seine Mädchen (3 Stars)

This is the first film that the actor Rinaldo Talamonti appeared in. It's remarkable that he was given the leading role in his first film, especially since he had no previous acting experience. He went to an audition for a television commercial. He didn't get the job, but he was noticed in the crowd of 300 people, and he was invited for an interview. He was hired on the basis of his looks alone. The film producer Alois Brummer was looking for a small Italian immigrant. Rinaldo was only 5'2", the perfect height for the job. Over the next 10 years he made more than 40 films in which he was typecast as "the stupid little Italian" (those are his own words). He knew he was being exploited, but he didn't mind, because he made a lot of money. In an interview that he gave in 2013 he claims to have been the highest earning actor in Germany in the 1970's. I find that difficult to believe, but I'm certain that he earned a lot of money.

Rinaldo has little good to say about Alois Brummer, who produced and directed his first films. He calls him a butcher in the way he treated his actors. I think I understand what he means. He claims that he went along with it, because he didn't mind being the stupid little Italian, but there were actresses who committed suicide. He doesn't name any names in the interview, but he said he wants to write an autobiography in which he reveals everything. That was eight years ago, and there's still no book. He should start writing it soon. I want to read it!

The film's title means "Count Porno and his girls". Rinaldo Talamonti plays the private detective Harry Holtz. In the introductory scenes he's portrayed as a James-Bond-like character, suave and elegant, dressed in a suit as he shoots multiple assailants. And he always gets the girl!

He's searching for the master criminal Graf Porno. Nobody knows what he looks like, but Harry has a stroke of luck. He's hired to investigate a girl called Gina. She's 17 and lives in a boarding school after the death of her parents. Her uncle wants to adopt her, but first he wants to find out if she'll cause him any trouble. Harry follows Gina and passes on the message that she's an innocent young girl, but he's not secretive enough. One of the other girls, Elsie, notices him following Gina around and finds out who Harry is. She warns him that there are criminal activities in the school.

There are sex parties to which rich men are invited. While the men are undressed their wallets are stolen by one of the girls. She gives the money to Graf Porno, who's posing as one of the guests.

Does stealing cash from wallets make someone a master criminal? It's a bit of a let-down. The real James Bond chases men who want to conquer the world. Harry Holtz is a few numbers smaller. After all, he's only a stupid little Italian.

The film is directed by Günter Hendel, who also directed the second film in the series. Günter appears in several roles in the film. He's so well disguised that I stared at some of the characters and still couldn't figure out whether or not it was him. The plot is confusing. I sat puzzling over what was happening, and by the time I figured it out there were more things happening. So much of the film is a series of random events, rather than detective work. The film is moderately funny, but not very erotic. Rinaldo's later films were better.

Rinaldo Talamonti in 2013

Graf Porno bläst zum Zapfenstreich (3½ Stars)

This is the third film in the Graf Porno series, supposedly. I say supposedly, because it has no connection to the previous two films, apart from the name. Even within the context of the film, the name doesn't make sense, but I'll get to that below.

I had trouble understanding the film's title. "Zapfenstreich" usually refers to a military tattoo played by a military brass band, but there's no reference to the army in the film. I did some research and finally found the answer. If I'd been Bavarian I would have known straight away. The Zapfenstreich is the last song played at the Munich Oktoberfest each year, at 10:30 pm on the last day. The doors close an hour later. After the song begins no more beer is sold, although it's permissible to finish the beer already on the table. Most Bavarian revellers have two or three large glasses of beer in front of them for their last hour of celebration.

Knowing that, the film's title is easy to understand. It means "Count Porno performs the last song". The screenshot above shows the Italian superstar Rinaldo Talamonti at the Oktoberfest conducting the brass band for the yearly Zapfenstreich. Does that mean he's Count Porno? Not quite.

In the first two films Rinaldo Talamonti played the private detective Harry Holtz. In this film his name is Willibald. This old German name doesn't fit his strong Italian accent, but that's one of the film's minor flaws. The film tells two stories that run in parallel: Willibald's career and Willibald's social life.

Story 1: Willibald is a man who has difficulty keeping a job, usually because he's too easily distracted by the women around him. First he has a job as a cook in a topless bar in Munich, but his food tastes so bad that he's fired. Then he's hired by a junkyard owner called Egon Schmitt. Willibald's job is to repair the old cars.

Willibald has a second job helping a woman with her self defence training. His job is to pose as an attacker. He has to attempt to sexually assault her while she stands naked in her apartment. She throws him on the floor, and he has to start again. No, he doesn't get the girl. All he gets is a sore back from being repeatedly thrown on the floor. At least he gets paid for it. Are there really jobs like that? Where do I sign up? I might not be hired because I'm too big. Rinaldo Talamonti is only 5'2" which makes him easy to throw around.

Egon is facing bankruptcy, so he pretends to be a Count in order to marry the daughter of a rich farmer. Ah ha, so there's finally a Count in the film, even if it's only a fake Count! But he's not Count Porno, he uses his real name. Willibald has to dress up as Egon's chauffeur. When visiting the farm, Willibald is supposed to remain out of sight, but he can't help flirting with a farm girl under the beef hanging from the ceiling.

It's not explicitly stated, but we can assume that Willibald is still a virgin. He almost gets a chance to change things with the farm girl, until the farmer starts banging on the door. He's jealous, because the girl is his lover.

Willibald has to climb out of the window. Is it normal to hang meat upstairs?

And he makes a quick getaway on a pig. At least he still has his hat to make him recognisable as a chauffeur.

This is the funniest scene in the film.

Rinaldo began his career in German sex comedies, usually playing a stereotypical Italian immigrant, but in the 1980's he became a serious actor, appearing in films and television series in both Germany and Italy. He's still active today at the age of 74. I wonder if he thinks back fondly to riding a pig naked. It's something to tell his grandchildren and make them laugh.

Story 2: The story of Willibald's social life is interwoven in the film. The scenes are so drastically different that you'd think they're two different films. Maybe they are. Maybe they were filmed separately, and the director Alois Brummer threw them together at the last moment. It's the second story that I enjoy more, even though there's only the thinnest of plots.

Willibald lives in an apartment with 10 women who play in a brass band. They perform fully naked, and Willibald is their conductor. Poor Willibald doesn't have any sexual contact with them. They're more interested in one another than in him, but they let him watch while they're in bed kissing one another. They don't approve of him having girlfriends. When he invites a girl home they chase her away, then they rip Willibald's clothes off and give him a spanking. Did I call him Poor Willibald? I feel jealous of him. 

"You can watch, Willibald, but no touching!"

They practise in Willibald's apartment. Don't the neighbours complain about the noise?

Willibald examines the brass band.

Williband might only be a small Italian, but he has an enormous sword. The girls aren't impressed.

The inspection is over. Time to play again.

"Willibald! Are you getting excited?"

That's against the rules! Willibald has to be punished. They rip off his clothes and give him another spanking. Doesn't it occur to the girls that he might be enjoying it? I would.

This is one of three occasions in the film where girls rip off a man's clothes to punish him. Twice it's Willibald, once it's Egon.

Summing the film up, is it a good film? No. It's sexier and funnier than the previous film, but the story doesn't make much sense. Why is it called "Count Porno performs the last song", when Willibald isn't a Count, not even the film's fake Count?

The film is disjointed, and it's not only because of the two parallel stories. New characters appear late in the film, and they're not even named. Then they appear a second time, giving the impression they're important, but they still aren't named. The film is badly written and badly directed. Admittedly, this was only the first film that Alois Brummer directed. He'd previously worked as a producer. In the following years he went on to direct better films.

There's a strange epilogue which is irrelevant to the rest of the film, except to give Willibald a happy ending. While conducting the Zapfenstreich he spots his chimneysweep in the crowd with a beautiful young woman, the chimneysweep's daughter. They leave together, and (after watching Willibald's brass band riding horses naked) they have sex. It's probably Willibald's first time. He asks when he can see her again, and she tells him she'll be at next year's Oktoberfest.

What a weird film! I like the humour, and I like seeing women portrayed as the stronger sex, but the story is such a mess that I can't rate it any higher. 

Maybe I'm taking the film too seriously. Maybe I should just laugh at the jokes and drool over the naked girls, not worrying about the plot. I'll give the film another chance and try to be more open next time.