Essentially a vehicle customized to the talents of transgender ‘superstar’ Eva Robin’s, who is probably best remembered for her brief, but integral role in Dario Argento’s TENEBRE (1982), Antonio D’Agostino’s EVA MAN (1980) and it’s rarely-seen sequel THE RETURN OF EVA MAN (1982), which is also included on this disc, are a pair of highly-enjoyable and very likeable films, which also proudly boast fellow trans icon Ajita Wilson among its small but dedicated cadre of actors. Considering their still topical content, which happily promote transgender inclusivity, it’s hardly surprising these films found few exhibitors in the English-speaking world upon their initial release, and for that alone, Mondo Macabro should be commended for distributing these rather remarkable Eurotrash oddities on Blu-ray.
Alongside a surfeit of flashing lights and iridescent bubbles (!), the film’s playfully infectious tone is evident right from the get go with Eva (Eva Robin’s, herein credited as Eva Coatti) performing a lively dance number set to Alessandro Alessandroni’s giddy, disco-infused One Sunday Morning. Occasionally mimicking a ’60s-style Eurospy flick and a ’70s white-coater, EVA MAN follows the exploits of Eva, the frequently nude and “most beautiful hermaphroditic specimen in the world.” Through a variety of sexual experiments at an impoverished Kinsey-like institute, a fatherly professor (Attilio Dottesio) has implanted a tiny sexual stimulator called a “sexmaker” in Eva’s crotch (which she can control through a specially made ring) to help develop the male and female stimuli and make her a “perfect complete being.” When Eva’s friend Ajita (Ajita Wilson), who also happens to have a doctor’s thesis in medicine (“I’m an expert. Show me what you got!”), visits the professor, further tests are conducted when Eva makes love to Ajita while the professor carefully observes. Meanwhile, an impotent criminal magnate (Ramón Centenero), also wants to get his hands on this one-of-a-kind sexmaker in order to satisfy his sexually voracious wife (Sara Mora), so he dispatches a couple of bumbling goons to kidnap Eva, but in their stupidity, they accidentally abduct the professor’s maid Cristina (Vanna Napolitano, herein credited as ‘Renata Napolitano’ who is perhaps known as ‘Annj Goren’, unsung actor of many a Joe D’Amato film) who obviously doesn’t have a “thingy.” Mostly taking a backseat to goofball shenanigans and lots of simulated sex, the somewhat messy scenario also culminates in further kidnappings, castration threats, and a sloppily orchestrated kung fu punch-up with Super Eva doing lots of flying ’fu leaps.
Although basically a smaller-scale retread of the innumerable sex comedies of the ’70s laid atop a sex film chassis, the real attention grabber is the added bonus of a meatier-than-usual part for trans actor Robin’s. Despite the flimsiest of plots, Robin’s gives an entertaining and occasionally over-the-top performance, who isn’t afraid to flaunt her “something extra,” including several full-frontal underwater shots whenever she takes a dip in the professor’s luxurious outdoor pool, which is often. Although respectful of trans rights, an occasional geek show quality still permeates the film, which also includes a barrage of jokes that some may find foolish and distasteful, but for the most part, it’s too good-natured to take anything very seriously. For the film’s epilogue, Eva even performs her hit song ‘Disco Panther’ in a white sequined jump suit while her friends excitedly look on. A fitting conclusion to this breezy sex comedy, indeed.
Made back-to-back with EVA MAN, D’Agostino’s fare more elusive THE RETURN OF EVA MAN features much of the same basic ridiculousness, although classifying them as two separate films is certainly a bit of a stretch. Released to Spanish cinemas with the fitting title of LA PITOCONEJO (‘The Cockp**sy’) and credited to Spanish director Zacarías Urbiola Salinas for tax purposes, both Eva and Ajita return once again as does Attilio Dottesio as the wise, philosophical surgeon (now called Dr. Pissinger) who this time devises a “love-gun” (“Better than an aphrodisiac!”) that can instantly unleash a person’s sexual hungers, which he believes could potentially save the world. However, when General Pepper (Centenaro), an excitable megalomaniacal militarist who is obsessed with fantasies of global conquest, gets wind of this of this new contraption, he decides it would be a perfect weapon to help distract the local populace and then overthrow the government.
Although only the closing dance number from EVA MAN seems to have been recycled here (which is this time placed at the start of the film), all of the supporting cast members also return, albeit in different roles, which definitely causes some initial confusion in this machinegun barrage of lovable stupidity. Once again brimming with skin, and plenty of lowbrow humour (“You’ve got a lot of hair down there! It’s like a jungle!”) sure to displease some viewers, the film also contains, for no apparent reason, a patently ridiculous yellowface character named Genghis Khan complete with a Fu Manchu-styled mustache, who even engages in a bout of stick-fighting, which goes beyond the mere surreal and into absolute unreality. And just like Wonder Woman, Super Eva battles with General Pepper’s henchman (“No kicks in the ass!”) in the grand finale alongside a cacophony of cheesy sound effects and canned kung-fu-styled music in this irresistibly daft confection.
Outside of a handful of European VHS releases, which, much to D’Agostino’s displeasure, usually included the heavily-altered hardcore version of the film, which completely destroyed its unique carefree qualities, EVA MAN also showed up on French-Canadian VHS as AMBI-SEX in the same bastardized variant. Thankfully, Mondo Macabro have included the original Spanish language versions of both films (minus all the intrusive and painfully mismatched hardcore scenes) on their fully-stacked disc, and in the case of EVA MAN, it’s a substantial improvement over its analog releases. Retaining their original 1.85:1 widescreen framing, both films feature new 2K restorations that look clean, bright, and colorful (the exterior scenes around the pool look especially vibrant), which greatly enhance their very modest production values and Hans Burmann’s rather functional camerawork. The DTS-HD Master Audio 2.0 Spanish mono on both films also sound fine, and are both nicely supported by several CAM library tracks from composer Alessandro Alessandroni including a couple of noticeable cues from Joe D’Amato’s PORNO EXOTIC LOVE (1980).
As usual, MM offers up a wealth of interesting special features beginning with an audio commentary with Caden Mark Gardner and Willow Catelyn Maclay, co-authors of Corpses, Fools and Monsters: The History and Future of Transness in Cinema (Repeater, 2024) who go over this “remarkable document” and its “multi-talented superstar” Eva Robin’s. They go on to provide plenty of insightful context on the film itself while also realizing its highly satirical nature, its ability not to shame the audience and its liberating aspects. They also discuss Robin’s’ overall career including her roles in Luigi Cozzi’s two HERCULES movies as well as some of the “fetishism endemic to this time period of filmmaking.” Having more admiration for the film than Jacques Audiard’s recent Oscar-winner EMILIA PÉREZ (2024), they fully admit that EVA MAN does sound like a “carnival sideshow on paper,” but they love its “cotton candy airy quality” and “independent spirit” just the same. Like the film itself, their commentary is a rather jovial listen, which also manages to help generate a better appreciation of its two trans actors, and the film’s very oddball charms.
In what is perhaps the most welcome extra on the entire disc is All About Eva (21m16s), an on-camera interview with Eva Robin’s herself who goes over the start of her career as a backing vocalist, her screen debut in D’Agostino’s directorial debut CEREMONY OF THE SENSES (1979) where she revealed her “body’s surprises” and her very revealing role in EVA MAN (“Not exactly suitable for convent school girls!”) of which she is both “ashamed and proud.” She also discusses her warm relationship with Ajita Wilson, her “avant-garde” director, the film’s Italian-shot locations at actor Giorgio Ardisson’s house, and the painful muscle cramps she experienced during her fight scenes. Next up, D’Agostino aficionado and expert Ian Higbee provides a thorough examination of D’Agostino’s fascinating career in his visual essay Chiaro e Scuro: The Double Life of Antonio D’Agostino (20m14s). Utilizing lots of photos of the director’s art pieces, and rare film clips from some of his more audacious adult films and experimental works, there is a lot to appreciate here thanks to Higbee’s superb-research and keen enthusiasm. In the equally absorbing Solving the Ajita Wilson Mystery (47m58s), film historian Alex Mendíbil attempts to get the record straight about Wilson’s life and career, which has been littered with “false information, legends and rumours.” From early roles in Cesare Canevari’s THE NUDE PRINCESS (1975) and Guido Zurli’s BLACK DEEP THROAT (1977), most of her films merely “exploited her statuesque and exotic body but nothing else,” which kept her busy working in Greece, Italy, and Spain where she also caught the attention of maverick filmmaker Jess Franco, which led to further roles in other Clasificada “S” films such as Carlos Aured’s SEX APOCALYPSE (1982).
The disc is further boosted with an on-camera interview with DP Hans Burmann (22m42s) who talks about his lifelong career in film and the naturalistic approach of his work (“I didn’t do strange things.”), and while he doesn’t discuss said film very much, he does acknowledge that he put all his “enthusiasm into it, but it didn’t really show.” In Echoes of Eva(11m16s), sound technician Luciano Muratori speaks about his time working on low-budget productions with production manager Ennio Onorati and Eva Robin’s’ first on-set nude scene (“Seeing Eva was surprising!”). Other extras include METAMORFOSI (13m20s), one of D’Agostino’s latter-day performance art pieces, and EVA MAN’s alternate Spanish ending, which eliminates Eva’s Disco Panther dance number. As usual, MM’s Limited Red Case Edition also includes a set of art cards, and a nicely-illustrated 24-page liner notes booklet with a comprehensive essay by Ismael Fernandez, who also has plenty to say about this pair of silly, yet unmistakably rebellious and fearless exploitation films, which, like Mondo Macabro itself, are in a class by themselves.
