The latest pointless, feature from avuncular pervert Paul Verhoeven- who has somehow avoided cancellation after nearly nine decades of exploiting blood, sex, and fascism - turns a jaded eye upon the real-life 17th century lesbian nun Benedetta Carlini, with predictably obscene results. Like their historical counterparts, these sexualised novices make easy prey for the geriatric pornographer’s gaze, which rampages into their midst in a riot of self-flagellation and blasphemous sex toys. For Verhoeven, the tireless naughty grandpa of Western cinema, this is really just business as usual; from the resurrection of Robocop to his published secular biography of Jesus, the man has carved out a niche as the high priest of bad taste, going so far as to accept his Razzies in person. For the rest of us, this piece of ‘nunsploitation’ has failed to stir much interest or significant controversy beyond the valiant efforts of some Catholic pickets in Belfast, in the post-Game of Thrones era of casual misogynist violence.

Benedetta is based on the Oxford University Press volume ‘Immodest Acts’, by historian Judith C. Brown, in the same sense that the 1979 Penthouse movie ‘Caligula’ is based on Suetonius. In this account of the seventeenth-century nun and supposed prophet, shot on location in Tuscany if not in the true location of Pescia, Verhoeven goes to town on a documented sexual relationship between the eponymous character (Virginie Efira) and the younger Bartolomea (Daphne Pataki). A real investigation, which concluded, in 1623 found that the so-called mystical Benedetta had engaged in all sorts of sapphic shenanigans with her victimised cellmate, Mea, as they shared a dormitory room as mistress and servant: a matter of record which sets up all sorts of Verhoeven inspired S&M indulgences in the film.

Unlike other entries in the religious satire canon, such as Diderot’s The Nun- an 18th century attack on church hypocrisy which also features some classic pervy older woman material- or the stories of The Decameron, which include bawdy tales of perverted clergy within the 14th century Italian context, also marked by the plague, Verhoeven’s Benedetta lacks a grounding in the antiquated times that might render it rich material for parody. The cheap and cheerful, commercial homoeroticism of Verhoeven’s Starship Troopers doesn’t work here as its main theme is religion not science fiction. A luscious expensive setting that evokes classic Hollywood with its galloping horses, flower garlands, and plate armour, is wasted, as all exposition takes the form of “Knock, knock, who’s there? A peasant who wants to sell his prostitute daughter to the church”. The one time provocateur, and scourge of NC-17 Hollywood swiftly descends into offensive stereotypes of Catholic girls schools, Our Lord and sex. Shuffling between vespers and the silk shuttles, the nuns seem more ready for a smoke behind the bike sheds than martyrdom through heavy duty S&M and medieval tortures inflicted by the papal nuncio; their improbable cleanliness and lack of body hair (which, naturally, the film points out at every opportunity) might put one in mind of the sex-crazed nuns in Monty' Python’s Castle Anthrax except that the self-mutilation and sadism are all too graphically realistic to be funny.

Again, all very much suited to the dirty old man’s imagination, and yet even the appearance of a beleaguered Charlotte Rampling, as the Mother Superior, injects a palpable despair to Verhoeven’s most recent, ludicrous and dispiriting attempt at regaining his edge. “Showgirls” was over the top, campy fun and titillating. By contrast, Rampling’s Abbess wades through her flock of the frustrated, no ya ya sisterhood with all the conviction and authority of an OAP out of an Alan Bennett monologue. As the Abbess admits to having given her life to the Lord out of sheer boredom, we viewers, fortunately, have other options for escape.