JAILHOUSE WARDRESS - BLU-RAY REVIEW

If we’re to believe the phony Anglicized credits, JAILHOUSE WARDRESS (1979) is just another routine women-in-prison film, but seldom have distributors sought so earnestly to camouflage a film’s true origins and pass it off as an entirely new picture like the lovable hucksters at Eurociné. Perhaps best known on these shores for producing several Jess Franco films such as FEMALE VAMPIRE (a.k.a. EROTIKILL, 1973), this Paris-based distribution outfit and production company has also become synonymous with a number of hastily cobbled-together films, of which JAILHOUSE WARDRESS is probably their most infamous. Following the success of Jess Franco’s far superior WIP film BARBED WIRE DOLLS (1975), which Eurociné distributed and owed the rights to in France, they decided to offer their very own contribution to the genre. But rather than take the time and trouble to shoot an all-new film, Eurociné instead ransacked Franco’s picture, stretching out miles of ‘previously viewed’ footage with a handful of ‘all-new’ insert scenes overseen by in-house director Alain Deruelle, which they probably threw together over a single long weekend. It shows. 

 

Essentially a re-hash of BWD, JAILHOUSE WARDRESS is a jumbled, schizo mix of mismatched scenes, a conflicting mix of characters, and paltry budget. Care of re-dubbed footage taken from Alain Payet’s SPECIAL TRAIN FOR HITLER (a.k.a. HELLTRAIN, 1977), a twitchy SS Colonel (Roger Darton) is forming a plan to eliminate “traitors and defeatists” from the Third Reich during the waning days of WWII, and upon Hitler’s own recommendation, Fraulein Elsa Ackermann (Monica Swinn) is ordered to run the operation. Next, we’re in a cramped apartment in modern day France, which possibly doubles as a Mossad safehouse (we know this because there is a large Israeli flag in the living room) where Jewish secret agents discuss the “red Heidelberg file”, which details the ongoing search to find and kill the SS Colonel from the opening who killed “thousands of Jews in concentration camps.” It develops that this Colonel has fled to South America with Elsa (“You know the story...”), where they are now running a local prison, which sets the stage for the rest of the film. 

 

Virtually the entirety of BARBED WIRE DOLLS (minus most of its sexually explicit material) seems to have been recycled here, albeit with its continuity drastically rearranged. Adding to the confusion, newly-shot footage with Eurociné regulars Nadine Pascal and Pamela Stanford as a pair of jovial prisoners clashes severely with Franco’s original downbeat scenario, and does nothing to propel the story forward; they merely lounge around the prison in constant states of partial or total undress discussing nothing in particular, and despite utilizing large portions of BWD, much of that film’s dreary - and highly potent – atmosphere is completely eliminated here. More in line with some of Eurocine’s other piecemeal films such as HOUSE OF CRUEL DOLLS (1974) or OASIS OF THE LOST GIRLS (1981), few of the disjointed storylines and newly-shot scenes ever properly gel, while disconnected pages of seemingly unrelated scripts seem to have been cut together using third-hand gaffer’s tape. When Nestor (Didier Aubriot, who poorly replaces the always watchable Eric Falk from the original) has his way with the prisoners, the film resorts to some flaccid attempts to instill some excitement, but much of the potentially offending scenes come across as laughable (“Close your eyes! There’s nothing to it!” remarks one of the girls.), which is made doubly ineffective by Daniel J. White’s crudely inserted and wholly inappropriate jazzy interludes; and it’s also hard not to notice the black-painted balsa wood doubling for solid iron bars! Following various prison subplots and backstories (including Lina Romay’s and Jess Franco’s infamous slow-motion death scene from BWD), our Jewish operative from the beginning finally reasserts his omnipotence with a bonus minute of action…

 

Despite its lowly pedigree, JAILHOUSE WARDRESS has seen more than a few releases during the digital era, beginning with Videofilm Express’ NAZI FILM COLLECTION, a 6-disc box set from 2010, which saw it issued alongside several other Eurociné Nazi-themed war films. This Dutch Region 2 PAL DVD was touted as a 16x9 release, but was weirdly stretched to accommodate a 1:85 image, so in order to watch the film in its intended 1.66:1 framing, viewers had to manually adjust their aspect ratio settings on their DVD player. The film was in English and included optional Dutch subtitles. In 2017, UK based label Maison Rouge released a slightly improved transfer of the film (albeit now weirdly in a 1.40 widescreen format) with marginally better colour timing, but for most casual viewers, the film’s differing film stocks and poorly recycled footage will make for a frustrating viewing experience. Earlier this year, thanks to MVD Classics and their continuing relationship with Eurociné, JAILHOUSE WARDRESS made its worldwide Blu-ray debut, and much like Maison Rouge’s UK disc, this is virtually the same transfer with a very minor uptick in quality thanks to the higher bitrate, but this still remains a poorly prepared transfer, which is littered with surface scratches and fluctuating contrast that lacks any real detail. As an interesting side note, the prominent swastika which adorned Maison Rouge’s DVD art is conspicuously missing from MVD Classics’ otherwise identical BD cover image, which in this day and age, is not surprising. 

 

There are no extras to speak of, other than a few newly-constructed trailers for some of MVD Classics’ other Eurociné product, which for the record include Pierre Chevalier’s CONVOY OF WOMEN (1m03s, 1974), Jess Franco’s GOLDEN TEMPLE AMAZONS (1m50s, 1984), Amando De Ossorio’s Canadian-set western HUDSON RIVER MASSACRE (1m30s, 1965), and Alain Payet’s NATHALIE ESCAPE FROM HELL (1m13s, 1978). 

Although still of interest to the more fetishistic Jess Franco fan or indiscriminate Eurotrash completists, JAILHOUSE WARDRESS has the arguable distinction of being one of the poorest films in the entire Eurociné catalogue! And that’s really saying something! 

 

JE BRÛLE DE PARTOUT BLU-RAY REVIEW

Looking for steady employment after the end of his working relationship in 1977 with Swiss producer Erwin C. Dietrich, Jess Franco quickly accepted an offer from Robert De Nesle’s poverty-stricken distribution / production outfit Comptoir Français du Film Production (C.F.F.P.), a move which made for a rather hasty and unsatisfactory substitute. Although Franco had already worked with De Nesle earlier in the decade, his most recent three-picture deal with the veteran producer encompassed a threadbare trio of films, which included COCKTAIL SPECIAL (1978), ELLES FONT TOUT (1978), and the film in question, JE BRÛLE DE PARTOUT (1978), which made its unexpected HD debut earlier this year thanks to France’s Pulse Video and the ever-prolific Vinegar Syndrome. 

While dancing away at a Lisbon nightclub, virginal ‘nice’ girl Jenny Goldstone (Susan Hemingway) is oblivious to the fact that she is being shadowed by a pair of ruthless, smooth-talking sex-traffickers (Brigitte Lahaie and Didier Aubriot). After a night of sex (Susan saves her virginity with a request to go “the other way”), she is eventually ensnared in their net and sold like horseflesh on the white slavers’ black market. Forced into a house of ill-repute led by the sadistic, sex-hungry Madame Flora (Martine Flety) and her bisexual assistant Robert (Mel Rodrigo), Jenny spends most of her time locked away in a squalid basement with the other so-called ‘product’. Heavily drugged with an aphrodisiac gas (conveniently pumped through a pipe in the ceiling), the women become slaves to their own desires like lost, drugged-out junkies writhing amongst each other in a sea of naked flesh, which instills a nightmarishly pornographic tone, even if the film itself remains decidedly softcore. 

 

Upon discovering that Jenny is the daughter of a prominent businessman and “far more valuable than they thought”, Lorna, one of the kidnappers (who comes in the alluring – and frequently nude - shape of French porno superstar Lahaie), hatches an impromptu plan to blackmail the father, intending to collect a hefty ransom for the return of his daughter. Elsewhere, Al Pereira (Jean Ferreré), a taciturn gumshoe wearing an Andy Capp hat is hot on Lorna’s trail as he tries to discover the whereabouts of Jenny. Not unexpectedly, the film’s final indignation is an appropriately effective twist ‘revelation’, which amps up the deviant criminality even further…

 

Attesting to this film’s quickie status, most of the film unfolds in cramped hotel rooms, cargo holds, and a dingy, minimally-furnished basement, which turns out to be a memorably downbeat locale of utter hopelessness. In keeping with the film’s title (“I burn everywhere”), actresses lounge around in constant partial or total undress while cries of ecstasy (“That’s it. That’s it. Moan. Moan.”) or agony reverberate throughout the hollow room; you can almost smell their sweat as Franco’s voyeuristic camera looms precariously from above. Proceeding from a similar rudimentary premise as Franco’s earlier DIE SKLAVINNEN (1975), JE BRÛLE DE PARTOUT’s steadily mounting themes of sexual malaise (a theme also more readily explored in Franco’s essential SHINING SEX [1975]) reaches its logical crushing crescendo by film’s end, which compensates for the film’s rather hurried approach. 

 

Although oddly credited to Paul Aicrag in the opening credits (which, to save money were simply spoken over the film’s introductory nightclub sequence!), this is an archetypal Franco film, which includes recurring characters (i.e., detective Al Pereira), a pencil-thin pulpy scenario, and a wonderfully seedy jazz score from Daniel J. White, one of Franco’s most trusted collaborators. And as with most similarly-themed Franco films, it doesn’t pretend to suggest any solutions to a grim and complex sociosexual problem, even if, however furtively, it offers some comeuppance to the traffickers and procurers of the world’s oldest profession.

 

Barely released on home video outside of France (the film also turned up on edited French-Canadian VHS in a less-than-stellar transfer), Pulse Video’s new 2K restoration of this underseen film adds considerable luster to its messy, somewhat indifferent photography. Presented in its original full-screen aspect ratio, some intermittent flickering still occurs (inherent in the film’s original negative), but everything looks remarkably good for such a cheap and scrappy film, with Franco’s unorthodox shooting style creating a uniform tone of ugliness, which perfectly captures the queasy voyeurism on display herein. Pulse Video only offers a DTS-HD Master mono soundtrack in French with optional English subtitles, which sounds perfectly audible despite the film’s post-synched dialogue and limited soundscape.

 

Extras are limited, but Pulse Video includes a couple of very worthwhile on-camera interviews beginning with I Burn Over Franco (13m00s), a candid discussion with Brigitte Lahaie wherein she talks about her time working on JE BRÛLE DE PARTOUT, and how Franco “didn’t leave a good impression” on her during her time on the Portugal set. More importantly, she talks about her reconciliation years later on Franco’s DARK MISSION (1987) and her great affection for this little-known picture, her time working on Franco’s big-budget FACELESS (1988) and Franco’s constant clashes with producer René Chateau. In the second interview, Murderous Passions and Flowers of Perversion author Stephen Thrower (25m15s) goes into great detail about this period in Franco’s career with a particular emphasis on the present film (he regards it as the “best”  in this late ’Seventies trilogy he did with producer De Nesle) including the director’s dislike for it (“He almost washed his hands of these films.”), it’s downbeat tone, the “dark side of desire”, and its similarity to Franco’s BLUE RITA (1977). All in all, it’s another terrific discussion worthy of your time. Rounding out the special features is the film’s unique trailer (“A film that doesn’t need publicity!”), which further emphasizes the cheapness of this entire endeavour. Nevertheless, it’s great to have one of Jess Franco’s more elusive films finally available and looking so good.

 

The Vinegar Syndrome Blu-ray is currently sold out, but an alternate Blu-ray (which also contains DARK MISSION) is currently available from Pulse Video here. A digipack collector Blu-ray is also forthcoming from Pulse Video.

FACELESS - 4K UHD/BD REVIEW

Clearly inspired by Georges Franju’s masterpiece EYES WITHOUT A FACE (1960), here we get another variation of the oft-filmed horror scenario, but this time comingled with ’80s gore, pathological perversions, a third-rate detective story, and plenty more besides. Based on a story co-written by French movie mogul René Château, and featuring an all-star cast, Jess Franco’s FACELESS (1988) is an ambitious and irresistibly crazed confection, which has finally made the leap to high definition thanks to those ever-reliable folks at Severin Films.

Dr. Flamand is a plastic surgeon (Helmut Berger) who runs an exclusive clinic on the outskirts of Paris. As he enjoys a night out in the city with his sister Ingrid (Christian Jean) and his assistant Nathalie (Brigitte Lahaie), he is accosted by one of his former patients whose face was disfigured following one of his procedures. Vowing revenge, she throws acid at him, but the botched attempt leaves Ingrid badly scarred, so with the help of Nathalie and their depraved servant Gordon (Gerard Zalcberg), they abduct various women in the hopes of restoring Ingrid’s face with a next-to-impossible “face transplant.” But when they kidnap Barbara Hallen (Caroline Munro), an American model working in Paris, her father (Telly Savalas) becomes suspicious when he doesn’t hear from her, so he hires Sam Morgan (Chris Mitchum), a private detective and ex-Army buddy, to try and track her down…

 

Anyone familiar with Franco’s lower-budgeted work throughout most of his career, will immediately be struck by the film’s polished veneer, which possesses a decidedly different tone compared to say, his highly individualistic Golden Films productions from the early-to-mid-eighties. Jess had not been privy to such financial splurges since his days working for Harry Alan Towers back in the ’60s, but this generous budget soon began causing problems for the veteran director as evidenced in Alain Petit’s book, Jess Franco ou le prospérités du bis. “Jess had a hard time holding on to his usual collaborators, who were indispensable in order to make a movie as close as possible to his own style”, wrote Petit. Petit also likened Jess to being “sole master of his ship” who was not used to overseeing “master ocean liners”, a set-up which Jess obviously disliked. But despite the stormy production difficulties, Franco still managed to demonstrate an astute use of a commercial genre, just like he did some 25 years previous when he helmed the similarly-themed THE AWFUL DR. ORLOF (1962). Much like any number of horror films from the period, FACELESS is also loaded with several practical gore effects,including decapitations, dismemberments, power-drill lobotomies, and of course, the requisite face transplants, one of which goes horribly wrong, but the film’s muted, far from convenient resolution (which is pure unadulterated Franco!) may have curtailed the film’s obvious commercial aspirations. 

 

Topped off by an impressive, all-star international cast led by Helmut Berger, whose rather softly-spoken demeanour hides a sinister benignity, it is Anton Diffring whose performance as an egotistical ex-Nazi plastic surgeon (“The donors’ fears and panic are the best stimulants!”) that is most memorable. In a sly nod to his earlier role in Sidney Hayers’ CIRCUS OF HORRORS (1960) as you guessed it, a plastic surgeon, Diffring commits himself with grim determination as the over-confident genius (“I’m sure your hands are still magical!” remarks Nathalie), and dominates the film whenever he’s onscreen and is rather unbefitting of his guest-star billing. Berger’s insatiably adulterous love interest comes in the beautiful shape of Euro-starlet Brigitte Lahaie, who also performs sincerely and exudes the quiet menace of a cold-blooded killer with perfection. Other than filling a vital catalytic function in the story, Caroline Munro’s character is mostly consigned to sitting in a padded cell while French screen veteran Stéphane Audran ‘sticks’ around long enough for a particularly gruesome bit of gory mayhem. Among other genuinely humourous touches, Franco-regular Howard Vernon shows up as the esteemed Dr. Orlof in a brief, but pivotal scene while Lina Romay also shows up in blink-and-you’ll-miss-her cameo as Orlof’s wife!

 

Despite its rather lofty pedigree, FACELESS was given spotty distribution in North America, first appearing on Canadian VHS courtesy of the long-defunct Malofilm, and heavily-edited in most English-speaking territories. Bypassing VHS altogether in the U.S., Franco’s ‘comeback’ film wasn’t officially released until 2004 when Shriek Show debuted the film on DVD. A fine-looking disc, this featured the uncut film with audio options in both English and French, but for some strange reason, the last line of the film was only spoken in French, which only helped validate Shriek Show’s poor QC issues at the time. However, it did include several fantastic extras including a wonderfully detailed feature-length French language audio commentary from Franco and Romay (subtitled in English), a ‘selected scenes’ audio commentary from Chris Mitchum, and video interviews with Franco, Mitchum and Munro, along with the usual photo gallery and theatrical trailer. 

 

Absent from the home video market for the better part of two decades, Severin’s UHD / Blu-ray combo features a brand new 4K transfer and looks absolutely phenomenal, and works wonders with both the film’s surprisingly vibrant palette and Maurice Fellous’ slick camerawork, rendering it quite literally picture-perfect. A long time coming, the film will surely never look better than it does here! As expected, he DTS-HD 2.0 audio options in both English and French are also free of any issues, allowing Romano Musumarra’s incessant theme song (“Destination nowhere…”) to come through as clear as ever! Optional English subtitles are also provided. 

 

Extras include the aforementioned audio commentary from Franco and Romay (once again subtitled in English), which, after all these years, still remains a must-listen for die-hard Francophiles or just casual viewers wanting to know more about this cinematic duo. French and English trailers conclude the extras on the UHD. The remainder of the extensive special features are included on the Blu-ray, and begin with The Female Predator (16m07s), an on-camera interview with Brigitte Lahaie produced by the folks at Le Chat qui Fume. In it, she discusses everything from producer René Château (who had a “desire to direct”), his falling out with Jean-Paul Belmondo, the rather remarkable cast he put together for FACELESS, the difficulties Franco had during the shoot (“I think that Jess Franco suffered a lot on this shoot!”), her thoughts on both Jean Rollin and Franco, and much more. In Facial Recognition (20m27s), author and film critic Kim Newman talks at great length about “Cinema’s Plastic Surgery Nightmares”, beginning with Lew Landers’ THE RAVEN (1935) to Franco’s FACELESS and everything in between including Franco’s earlier Dr. Orlof films. In Parisian Encounters (25m55s), Caroline Munro chats about her introduction to Franco, how she landed the role in FACELESS and why she decided to do it because it was “out there.” She also comments on her many co-stars and how “honoured” she felt to be working with many of them. Of course, being a Franco film, Murderous Passions and Flowers of Perversion author Stephen Thrower is interviewed in Predators of the Night (26m08s), which is another extremely thorough discussion about Jess’ working conditions throughout the ’80s and what led him to helming FACELESS, his many influences for the film, his dislike of working around special effects, and much more. 

 

Other, no less significant bonuses include a Faceless EPK (8m33s), which contains behind-the-scenes clips of Jess directing on-set and brief interviews with Mitchum, Savalas and Berger, as well as Therese II: The Mission (3m31s), a short film starring Brigitte Lahaie as a gun-wielding nun, which was originally included on every 35mm print of FACELESS as a “preliminary program.” Being the completists that they are, Severin Films also incorporate the Franco and Mitchum interviews, and the ‘selected scenes’ commentary from Shriek Show’s disc.  

 

Slickly constructed and featuring a wonderful cast, Jess Franco’s FACELESS is an irresistible and colourfully outrageous Euro horror, which is expertly handled by the folks at Severin Films with their flawless UHD / Blu-ray combo. As usual, their disc also includes reversible cover art and a wonderful slipcover, which fans of Brigitte Lahaie should appreciate. Order it direct from Severin Films. 

PLEASE NOTE: All screen grabs are taken directly from the Blu-ray and not the UHD. 

SHINING SEX - BLU-RAY REVIEW

A hypnotic, often bizarro melding of an experimental softcore film with science-fiction trappings, Jess Franco’s SHINING SEX (1975) remains one of the directors’ more unapologetically voyeuristic efforts. Revisiting the basic storyline of his earlier—much-more polished—THE DIABOLICAL DR. Z (1965), SHINING SEX, however, possesses a similarly dreamy air of sensuality to SUCCUBUS (1968) or FEMALE VAMPIRE (1973), two of the director’s more celebrated and widely-seen works. Barely released and notoriously difficult to see in any form approximating Franco’s intended vision, SHINING SEX has, thanks to Severin Films, been given its first uncut/uncensored home video release. 

 

Made in conjunction with Franco’s far-more-playful MIDNIGHT PARTY (1975), which also stars Lina Romay and shares much of this film’s personnel, Romay is herein cast as Cynthia, yet another bubbly stripper. It will come as no surprise for anyone well-versed in Franco’s oeuvre that SHINING SEX begins with another extended nightclub act, which gains the attention of Alpha (Evelyne Scott) and her servant Andros (“Raymond Hardy” / Ramon Ardid). Cynthia accompanies them back to their spacious apartment, but her enthusiasm soon escalates to horror when, during orgasm, she experiences a spasm of obvious pain, all of which is telepathically sensed by Dr. Seward (Jess Franco), a wheelchair-bound paranormal scientist. Alpha then mysteriously rubs a shining, shimmering substance onto Cynthia’s body, which somehow puts her under Alpha’s control. Using her as an instrument of death, Cynthia is ordered to destroy anyone who may potentially destroy Alpha’s (quote) “wisdom”, whereas Dr. Seward is convinced that (quote) “something frightening” or supernatural may be inhabiting our world… 

 

Although Alpha and Andros make numerous references to (quote) “another dimension,” the sparsely-populated resort town locations of La Grande Motte in southern France also appear decidedly otherworldly. Taking advantage of the resort’s unique, white-washed, pyramidal architecture and seemingly never-ending sunlight, Franco’s meager production is enhanced greatly by this location, which further strengthens the somewhat oblique sci-fi angle. SHINING SEX is, on its surface, a very bright and sunny film, but it camouflages a far darker scenario of despair and death—pure, unmistakable Franco themes. Like many of his films from this period, the primary motivator is sex, and Franco offers several, tenuously connected couplings as Gerard Brisseau’s camera boldly scrutinizes Romay’s body, zooming into her ‘shining sex’ with little left to the imagination. Also crucial to the overall ambiance, Daniel White’s jazzy score goes hand-in-hand with the film’s freeform, episodic scenario. In contrast, several instances of strange, atonal sound effects also enhance the film’s aural soundscape. As Cynthia becomes entangled in a never-ending spiral of desire and death, these eerily echoic sounds are weirdly reminiscent of someone trapped in a room desperately struggling to get out, a perfect metaphor for Cynthia’s increasingly hopeless ordeal. Considering the film’s budget was skimpier than some of Romay’s outfits, SHINING SEX’s biggest asset is Lina Romay herself, who lets go of ALL her inhibitions for Franco’s voyeuristic camera. Much like her portrayal of Countess Irina in FEMALE VAMPIRE, she dominates the screen with her presence. Playing a pair of Cynthia’s would-be victims, Franco regulars Monica Swinn and Olivier Mathot (as Madame Pécame and Dr. Kallmann respectively) also add substantially to the film’s peculiar milieu. 

 

Barely released onto videocassette back in the day, the film was given some limited exposure at the time via Japan’s Tohokushinsha label. Although in English and running almost 100 minutes, it was made unwatchable due to the extensive censorial digital fogging mandated by the Japanese censor. Here making its worldwide disc debut, Severin’s Blu-ray features an all-new transfer taken directly from Eurociné’s original camera negative, and the results are very eye-opening, indeed. At long last, Severin’s disc retains the film’s original 2.35:1 scope photography, but being a Franco film, detail still varies from scene to scene with some instances of blurred photography. During one brief moment, an in-camera gate weave at the 80-minute mark causes some momentary jitter, but for the most part, things really do look terrific. Sporting an English DTS-HD 2.0 mono audio track, the minimal dialogue also sounds clear and well-equalized while giving plenty of prominence to Daniel White’s outstanding, highly experimental score. 

 

As expected, Severin’s disc comes loaded with several illuminating extra features, which begin with an excellent feature-length audio commentary from Franco expert Robert Monell (who also runs the I’m In A Jess Franco State Of Mind blog), and NaschyCast’s Rodney Barnett. Almost immediately, they readily acknowledge that Franco was (quote) “trying to do something different” with this film even as he reuses the (quote) “same scenario again and again.” They also discuss Franco’s tendency to shoot films back-to-back, the abstract quality of the architecture, the film’s (quote) “weird pop-art aesthetic,” many of its recurrent visual themes, and the (quote) “idea of lust and its horrible power.” Of course, given the pseudonymous nature of the production (Franco directed the film as “Dan L. Simon”), they also talk at great length about many of the performers, Franco’s numerous aliases, and the alternate hardcore variant. 

 

In Severin’s continuing exploration of Franco’s filming locations, In the Land of Franco Part 3 (12m42s) has Stephen Thrower and actor Antonio Mayans returning as our tour guides. This time, they visit many locations in and around Málaga, Spain, which popped up in both MIL SEXOS TIENE LA NOCHE (1984) and JUEGO SUCIO EN CASABLANCA (1985), where it doubled for Tunisia. Our guides also visit several areas where Franco’s ashes were scattered and meet up with Kike Mesa of Andale Audiovisual, who talks about his friendship with Franco during his final years. In Shining Jess (19m14s), Murderous Passions and Flowers of Perversion, author Stephen Thrower returns for an on-camera interview, wherein he thoroughly discusses the title film with his usual eye for detail. He goes on to talk about how it relates to many of the filmmaker’s other productions of the time and how desire is used as a (quote) “potentially dangerous force,” while praising Lina Romay’s unabashed performance, which he cheekily surmises as (quote) “carnality incarnate.” In Silent Running (6m26s), director and post-production sound editor Gerard Kikoïne discusses his time working on more than a few Franco films. He amusingly recalls how many of them had no live sound at all (not even a guide track), which ultimately resulted in some creative manipulations to get everything right. In Franco at Eurociné (17m39s), Eurociné head honcho Daniel Lesoeur relates plenty of anecdotes about Franco’s on-and-off working relationship with the company, and rather fondly, promises he will always remain a (quote) “part of the family.” In Franco-Philia (29m13s), BROTHERHOOD OF THE WOLF (2001), and SILENT HILL (2006), director Christophe Gans talks about his love of Franco. He believes that his films are more (quote) “musical than cinematic” as well as how Lina Romay’s body was his (quote) “cinematic musical arabesque (!)”, which the director retreated to like some (quote) “Poetic Beaudelaire.” The lengthy extras conclude with some Very NSFW Outtakes (13m10s) used for the film’s hardcore version and the film’s trailer ([3m40s]“Never before has the screen thrilled to such explicit desire!”). The Limited Edition release also comes with In the Land of Franco Vol. 1, a very welcome soundtrack comp CD (14 tracks, 54m) featuring music from several Jess Franco films, the present one included. 

 

Slow-moving yet strangely mesmerizing, SHINING SEX may not be for everyone, but viewers who allow themselves to become immersed in its weird, ethereal reality will find plenty to enjoy, especially via Severin’s extras-filled and definitive Blu-ray! Order the standard edition Blu-ray from Severin Films here.

EUROCINÉ 33 CHAMPS ÉLYSÉES - DVD REVIEW

Yes, you guessed it, that’s the Paris street address to Eurociné, a lovably awful, but equally daring French film studio which is usually the scorn of snobbish cineastes that, let’s be honest, probably haven’t seen more than two of their films.  While many of their productions were undoubtedly made on the cheap, Eurociné were responsible for a treasure trove of trashy exploitation films mostly in the ’70s and ’80s, but they even managed to put together a few honest-to-goodness gems like THE AWFUL DR. ORLOF (1962) directed by the iconoclastic Jess Franco, easily the most respectable name associated with Eurociné. Subtitled a "A French Exploitation Cinema", Christopher Bier's (directing under the suitably apt "Christopher M. Beer" in keeping with the pseudonymous nature of most Eurociné films) documentary is a highly entertaining look at this modest studio that, to this very day, still operate out of that very same address.

Mr. Bier serves as our host who proudly proclaims the films of Eurociné “are no less exotic to us than BREATHLESS and CHILDREN OF PARADISE.”  He goes on to provide a fairly thorough background history of Marius Lesoeur, the founder of Eurociné, which is nicely cut together with contemporary interviews featuring a number of directors, actors and writers that all worked for Mr. Lesoeur at one time or another.  Some of the interviews include Monica Swinn (her anecdotes regarding the various Nazi-themed films they churned out in the ’70s are quite priceless), Roger Darton, Alain Deruelle (also known as Allan W. Steeve – the director behind such cut-and-paste non-classics as CANNIBAL TERROR [1980] and JAILHOUSE WARDRESS [1979]), Patrice Rhomm, Gilbert Roussel, writer and film historian Jean-Pierre Bouyxou and of course, Daniel Lesoeur, the current head honcho of this once prolific production house.

Christopher Bier, our host and director of EUROCINE 33 CHAMPS ELYSEES

Some of the highlights include a visit to their “studio” outside of Paris, which actually turns out to be nothing more than the Lesoeur’s holiday villa turned into a mini production house.  Anyone even remotely familiar with Eurociné’s output will instantly recognize many rooms within this house, which have turned up in the likes of Jean Rollin’s guilty pleasure ZOMBIE LAKE (1980) and Jess Franco’s appropriately dark and nasty EUGENIE DE SADE (1970).  In a surprise revelation and, to the astonishment of our host Mr. Bier, Mr. Lesoeur even unboxes Soledad Miranda’s knee high leather boots from that very same Franco film!

Of course, much of the fun also comes from the various clips utilized throughout the doc and, while there is no shortage of scenes from such Eurociné staples like Alain Payet’s HELLTRAIN (1976), Patrice Rhomm’s FRAULEIN DEVIL (1976), the aforementioned ZOMBIE LAKE (1980) and Jess Franco’s revamped and re-edited OASIS OF THE ZOMBIES (1981), Mr. Bier has also included many tantalizing scenes from a variety of rarely seen titles such as Jess Franco’s early MARIQUITA, QUEEN OF THE TABARIN CLUB (1960), Gilbert Roussel’s RED HOT ZORRO (1972) and The GIRLS OF THE GOLDEN SALOON (1973), Pierre Chevalier’s The HOUSE OF LOST DOLLS (1973), Alain Payet’s HELGA, The SHE-WOLF OF SPILBERG (1977) and many others. 

This hour long documentary is unfortunately rather low on extras but the fact that it contains English subtitles more than makes up for it.  Although a very welcome extra is a rather extravagant poster gallery highlighting many works by poster artist Belinsky whose trashy “anything goes” artwork suited the Eurociné aesthetic to a tee.  By all means, order your copy here and check this out!  Vive la Eurociné!

Robert Foster (aka Antonio Mayans) in Eurocine's most financially successful and widely-seen film.

Christopher Bier (left) enters through the same door as Pierre Escourrou in ZOMBIE LAKE. 

Daniel Lesoeur (left) and Christopher Bier.