Beware of a Holy Whore opens with a soliloquy delivered by Werner Schroeter about the synopsis of a Disney story featuring Goofy, the dog. In the tale, Goofy cross-dresses in his aunt's clothes to teach a kindergarten class and, after being mocked by the children, takes a "poor orphan girl" into his home. The girl turns out to be a dwarf gangster named Wee Willy, whom Goofy is duped into caring for by wearing the clothes he had discarded after the schoolyard ridicule. That night, Goofy's house is raided by police and Wee Willy is arrested, revealing the "poor orphan girl's" true identity to Goofy. When Willy's true identity is exposed, the confused Goofy confesses, >What a shock that must have been for the poor little girl when she discovered that she is a crook<. In both episodes—his attempt to educate the children and his care for Wee Willy—Goofy is beaten by those he sought to help. This opening skein of events hints at the film's deeper inquiries into violence, self-blindness, and the fraught terrain of same-sex and bisexual relationships.
The action then shifts to a coastal hotel in Spain, where the cast of the film's meta-film Patria O Muerte waits for production money and for the arrival of the director Lou Castel and the star Eddie Constantine, who appear as themselves. While waiting, the ensemble engages in sexual intrigues (encompassing both same-sex and opposite-sex dynamics), vicious gossip, and power struggles that ripple through the group. The arrival of the helicopter-carrying director intensifies the tensions, inserting himself into the already tense web of relationships and openly challenging established hierarchies. The production's chaos escalates as personalities clash and alliances shift, revealing the fragility of working together under pressure. The scene is threaded with a blunt realism about how art and control collide when a crew’s unity is put to the test.
Amid this volatile atmosphere, the project becomes a case study in group dynamics, as Rainer Werner Fassbinder later described the production as “a film about why living and working together as a group doesn’t function, even with people who want it to and for whom the group is life itself.” The narrative tracks how ambition, desire, and creative ego press up against one another, forcing compromises, confrontations, and at times, outright breakdowns. The director’s outward confidence clashes with the cast’s private agendas, and the on-set theater of power plays exposes how easily a shared venture can unravel when trust frays and boundaries blur.
As the on-location drama unfolds, the film reveals a layered meditation on collaboration, control, and the price of artistic ambition. The Spanish coast, the sun-drenched glamour, and the claustrophobic pressure of a halted production converge to create a liminal space where what’s performed on camera bleeds into what’s lived off it. The result is a disquieting portrait of a film crew that yearns for cohesion yet is continually torn apart by desire, hierarchy, and the stubborn ache of human fallibility.
