Unlike other bad films that at least inspire humorous put-downs, this semi-surreal, perverted jumble of a movie isn't worth even that. If you are honestly entertained by the sickening antics of a singing transvestite or fascinated by neonazi thugs who sig heil, burn books, vulgarly wag their tongues, and shout obscenities at every opportunity, then this turkey is for you. Tahnee Welch (daughter of Raquel) was the only thing I watched this thing for and I longed to see her stripped down to the bare essentials and dealt with accordingly. Unfortunately, her love interest (Hugh Grant) didn't seem up to the job. After sitting through way too much nonsense, the viewer was finally treated to a good look at Tahnee's nifty little pointers, each of which was topped by a spectacular, inch-long nipple. Too bad there was practically no erotic buildup to this nude scene and that no other part of her lovely anatomy was exhibited. At the conclusion, something of the same sort was repeated, perhaps because the filmmakers realized it was all this indulgent "experimental" movie really had to offer.
Review of Night Train to Venice
