The Washing Machine

A plodding film from Deodato, who clumsily dabbles in sexual psychology centered around a murder investigation. Any attempts to evoke eroticism are trampled under poor lighting and colour grading decisions (most prominently) and those to conjure atmospheric effects are weak, such as the Goblin-esque soundtrack. Crummy sleaze populated by greasy shitbags, with nary a saving grace to be found.