There's something charming about Jess Franco's trash flicks: aimless, chintzy and so dreamy. That's the best kind of bad movie, the inspired type that makes you feel like your brain is melting, the standard decorum for a decent film gleefully shredded before your very eyes. You start off going 'This is so crappy, why am I watching?' until the mojo gets flowing and you've totally forgotten that golden compass supplied by countless tasteful pictures. You can't tell which way is up anymore; the map is gone, you're on Mars. Some turkeys try hard to be respectable and end up boring. Others don't bother, setting off to no man's land outright with their off kilter rhythms like some sort of bargain basement art house experiment. They don't give a sh*t.
That's the kind of movie this guy seemed to specialize in with his meandering zooms and incoherent plots, the I-don't-give-a-f*ck kind. He was pleasuring himself first and foremost, audience foreplay was a distant second if it was in the running at all. Maybe I shouldn't say this having sampled only a fraction of his output, maybe I need to travel far and wide in Franco land to really get a feel for the pervy territory but it's the only way I have to explain the weird allure these masochistic experiences have. They can be frustrating as hell and I'll still keep watching (the constant barrage of sex and nudity help).
This description matches VAMPIRE JUNCTION well, the plot is incomprehensible tedium with only a few trustworthy outposts to anchor us in its hermetic z-movie universe, to let us know we are passing through Franco land: Naked lesbo vamps, naked Lina Romay, western ghost towns, graphic sex verging on hardcore porn- it's all pretty batsh*t, pretty colorful. It's got the aggressive incoherence of a dream and just like somebody else's mind matinée that means boredom of the paint drying kind. Only fanatic Francophiles would stand a ghost of chance connecting all these dots, having plowed through a sizable wad of his creative ejaculations already. The non narrative approach doesn't automatically put some off like it does others; having hacked through a bunch of William Burrough's books I'm starting to find the whole thing invigorating in a nerdy way.
All the boredom is worth wading through to get to a handful of scenes, as is often the case with some directors. The strange randomness of the experimental soundtrack is the perfect accompaniment, repetitive notes & noises trapping you in a nightmare cul-du-sac straight out of David Lynch. The vamp twins getting off underlined by this stuff is hypnotic, their slow languid movements at first sorta funny then hypnotic like a weird erotic dance. When they attack and strip Romay during the end and do all sorts of wild contortions with their bodies like trapeze artists from hell- it's just the cherry on top of the fruitcake. It's a strange contrast with the sleaze, given its porno explicitness; at one point a vagina gets lathered up, delicately shaved and sucked on for blood.
I don't know how much Franco was deliberately surreal and how much he was just plain incompetent but it's nice to be surprised just the same. The right flavor of wtf moment is a thing to cultivate.
That's the kind of movie this guy seemed to specialize in with his meandering zooms and incoherent plots, the I-don't-give-a-f*ck kind. He was pleasuring himself first and foremost, audience foreplay was a distant second if it was in the running at all. Maybe I shouldn't say this having sampled only a fraction of his output, maybe I need to travel far and wide in Franco land to really get a feel for the pervy territory but it's the only way I have to explain the weird allure these masochistic experiences have. They can be frustrating as hell and I'll still keep watching (the constant barrage of sex and nudity help).
This description matches VAMPIRE JUNCTION well, the plot is incomprehensible tedium with only a few trustworthy outposts to anchor us in its hermetic z-movie universe, to let us know we are passing through Franco land: Naked lesbo vamps, naked Lina Romay, western ghost towns, graphic sex verging on hardcore porn- it's all pretty batsh*t, pretty colorful. It's got the aggressive incoherence of a dream and just like somebody else's mind matinée that means boredom of the paint drying kind. Only fanatic Francophiles would stand a ghost of chance connecting all these dots, having plowed through a sizable wad of his creative ejaculations already. The non narrative approach doesn't automatically put some off like it does others; having hacked through a bunch of William Burrough's books I'm starting to find the whole thing invigorating in a nerdy way.
All the boredom is worth wading through to get to a handful of scenes, as is often the case with some directors. The strange randomness of the experimental soundtrack is the perfect accompaniment, repetitive notes & noises trapping you in a nightmare cul-du-sac straight out of David Lynch. The vamp twins getting off underlined by this stuff is hypnotic, their slow languid movements at first sorta funny then hypnotic like a weird erotic dance. When they attack and strip Romay during the end and do all sorts of wild contortions with their bodies like trapeze artists from hell- it's just the cherry on top of the fruitcake. It's a strange contrast with the sleaze, given its porno explicitness; at one point a vagina gets lathered up, delicately shaved and sucked on for blood.
I don't know how much Franco was deliberately surreal and how much he was just plain incompetent but it's nice to be surprised just the same. The right flavor of wtf moment is a thing to cultivate.