5.8/10
Senior Film Conservator
A definitive 5.8/10 rating for a film that redefined the boundaries of cult cinema. Damaged Goods remains a cornerstone of transgressive art.
Look, if you are looking for light entertainment, stay away. This movie is a heavy, moralizing brick of a film about the consequences of ‘unclean living.’ If you are into weird historical artifacts or films that feel like they should be playing in a dark classroom on a flickering projector, you might actually get a kick out of how earnest it is.
It’s not subtle. It’s not trying to be. It’s basically a PSA that realized it had enough budget to cast real actors and drag the runtime out to an hour.
The whole thing hangs on this dread about syphilis, though they talk around it like they are discussing a social faux pas. The performances are stiff, which actually kind of works here. It gives the whole thing this eerie, detached feeling.
I found myself staring at the background extras more than the main cast. There is a scene in a parlor where two people are talking about their ruined lives, and an extra in the corner is just staring at a fern for three minutes straight. It was distracting, but honestly, it was the most interesting part of the frame.
It’s hard to watch this without thinking about how far we've come—or how little has changed in how we talk about health. The movie is clearly terrified of its own subject matter. You can feel the screenwriters sweating through the script, trying to make a medical warning sound like a Shakespearean tragedy.
Does it hold up? Not really. It’s a relic. But it’s a weird, honest one. It doesn't have the artistic ambition of something like Rhythm in Light, but it certainly has a singular focus. By the time it wraps up, you just feel exhausted, which I assume was the point.
It’s not a movie you ‘enjoy.’ It’s a movie you survive. 🤒
