A gym teacher and Italian professor at a girls’ high school, Enrico Rosseni (Fabio Testi), is out on a river with his student/lover, Elizabeth (Cristina Galbó), when the lover sees a girl being chased on the river bank. Rosseni is dismissive, but when he hears a news report about the body of a girl being found by the river the next morning, he realises he’s gotten himself involved in a murder, and finds himself under the watchful eye of Inspector Barth (Joachim Fuchsberger) of the Scotland Yard. Then more young girls are found brutally murdered and Inspector Barth’s and Rosseni’s investigations lead them to an overwhelming question: What did they do to Solange (Camille Keaton), and how exactly is it connected to the murders?
Christina Lindberg first made a name for herself in her native Sweden as a nude model, and parlayed that notoriety into an acting career that included a starring turn in the seminal Swedish exploitation film, Thriller – En grym film, and quite a bit of soft porn.
Rape of the Vampire is French exploitation auteur Jean Rollin’s first feature-length film, for which he received financing after a producer saw Rollin’s short film of the same name. Rollin shot a second part, slapped it together with the original short and the result is what is reputedly the first French vampire film. Because of the strike and student protests in May 1968, French distributors froze new releases, which meant that Rape of the Vampire became the most successful French movie of that year. I’m sure Rollin would agree with Homer Simpson, that the two most beautiful words in the English language are “de” and “fault”.
The trouble with Harry, not to put too fine a point on it, is that he’s dead. And not only is he dead, he was inconsiderate enough to leave his body lying around, causing no end of problems for the living.
What if a man from the Upper Paleolithic survived until the present day?
Written by Kalle on Friday August 21, 2009
There are good directors, there are bad directors, and then there are directors like Jesús “Jess” Franco. I like Franco, but the man is a cipher: his œuvre consists of a great many bad films and a few gems; he seems often to be technically incompetent, but he was good enough to A.D. for Orson Welles; his films are often blatantly pornographic and shamelessly exploitative, but a very few of them are honest-to-god works of genius. You can watch ten of his movies, and nine of them will be awful. Then, just when you’re about to dismiss him as a hack, the tenth will be a weird, surreal, seemingly-accidental masterpiece. I honestly can’t decide if he’s just a hack who happened to make a few good films from some twisted law of probability or if he’s a good director who only occasionally cared enough, was given enough money, and free enough reins to put in some effort. My relationship with Franco’s work is a constant search for those aberrations in his œuvre.
Snakewoman, I’m afraid, isn’t one of those aberrations