Great, Now I’m Afraid Of Lipstick Lesbians

Death by Party | Vampyros Lesbos 

Join us for Death by Party presents Factory Girls August 30th

Sometimes we see a movie that is so addictively unsettling, it courses through our veins. Every pulsation within our very ventricles attempts to feebly compensate, but it will not extricate itself from the bloodstream. I’ve tried to figure out why that is, and even further, have tried to cogitate if there was a more erudite way to explain this phenomena. That is until I stumbled upon the Large Eddy Simulation. This is a model for turbulent flow. Known better as the LES model, its compulsories are that the smaller scale elements are the unresolved minutae which govern the bigger equation, and can only be rectified by the computer. This ensuing treatise will explain in lapidary detail why Jesus Franco’s 1971 German-Spanish horror film ‘Vampyros Lesbos’ is cinematically as well as somatically, a fever dream for the ages.

We’ll first start off with the Directing/Writing, which pose conversely on the smaller scale. These tremulous, unresolved bits espouse an unwieldy resolve that is simultaneously alien and familiar. Franco’s choice to film amongst the exotic vistas of Turkey most assuredly held an air of spy-films from a bygone era, and what person worth their percentage in blood salinity wouldn’t want that Bond-ing experience? The jump cuts are few, but somehow lend themselves to the unease of– Regarding the plot, the title does deliver in a sorta (not sordid) way. The vampiric forefront and lesbian subtext are akin to buying a cheap bottle of vodka. Though the first two-thirds of it feel right imbibing, initiating a slight buzz, the last third of the cask is massively ineffectual. The script’s intention is quite ostensible, but its denouement is a bloodsucker (and not in the good way.) In doublespeak (and vamp-speak), it’s good until its last.. DROP.

This leads me to the large eddy: the Acting. Hot actresses get my blood boiling, which isn’t conducive to my body temperature during a good night’s slumber. Lumbering, the hot actresses had my sheets soaked in sweat the night following, featuring an unspoken given. Given that the lead was one of the most stunning countenances I’d ever seen committed to film stock, the goddess Ewa Stromberg, was pinioned to vampiress Soledad Miranda (who could win a Winnie Cooper proxy contest any day of the week), thus ensuring the film would be rife with sexual-potential. Potent were the scenes betwixt them amongst the wavering backdrop of 1970s porn locales, improving the illusion of their talent. Latent was the dubbed dialogue, but their acting actually was a nice release- almost like a phlebotomist. Both of the male flanks to the attractive puppet and puppeteer, played by Andre Monales and Jose Martinez Blanco respectively, were more or less the free orange juice and cookie after the bloodletting- a palliative buffer, but ultimately ineffectual. In effect, this was most likely due to herr director’s focusing more upon the two beauties. Beatification is currently in place for Jesus and his vision.

From the visionary to the auditory, we come to the tertiary and final leg of the model, the arbiter. This title will be ascribed to the subcutaneous Soundtrack. In an era when scores are on par with garish horn sections or embarrassingly displaced ‘flavor of the week’ songs (the milk’s curdled by the time the film is released), I am pretty inexorable. To be effusive in praising the spice-mélange of distortion, mid-60s-middle-eastern fiddlery, a brass section that would make Herb Alpert horny and a jazz piano that assailed me like a face-hugger.. would be uncouth. It did actually usher in the transition of what this movie is- 1960s naivety with 1970s sexuality. When the body tries to rid the blood of toxins, especially after a night of hard drinking, the porous self invariably excretes a sweet sweat whilst sleeping. As the dream gets deeper, the blood becomes more intoxicating as the perspiring becomes all the sweeter. Consider this musical bed the fruit in any Count/Countess of the Night’s sangria.

In closing, I am horrible at math. JUMP CUT! In the grand scheme of things, it makes sense though, much like this film. You see, I was going on a mathematical model, and my knowledge in actual mathematics is for shit. I took a concept and ran with it (so lay off taxonomy mathematicians.) I don’t fucking care if you blather on about how it’s wrong, but if you had read this far, you were fettered to every word and had fun doing such. Such is this film. It doesn’t care what precisely its doing, but it’ll have you nearly as spellbound as Linda, the main protagonist. It just happens to seduce you in your favorite-fever dream as Countess Nadine. It lulls you into a nice torp- JUMP CUT! Into a bedroom. It will strip you of your clothing and make love to you as you lie mesmerized.. and like any newly bitten, you’re friend will have contracted the love from you after viewing. Bitte.

By Robert Kijowski

Tags: , , , , ,

Leave a Reply