|
Psychosexual-semiotics party at Jesús Franco's pad. "Have you brought the symbols?" Bound figures in a dark dungeon, la maîtresse (Janine Reynaud) has her way with them until the lights come up to polite applause, a Berlin nightclub. "The essence of evil" to the mesmerist in the audience (Michel Lemoine), "a witch and irresistible" to the American who brought her from Lisbon (Jack Taylor). Word games with The Admiral (Howard Vernon), immaculately groomed while waited on by naked beefcake. "Charlie Mingus." "Anger." "Religion." "Gomorrah." "Hitchcock." "Eyes." A fluid mind, an international identity, an ineffable murderer. Orgy of dwarf conductors and hallucinogenic cubes, freakout at the group grope. "I suppose it's fantasy, for the most part." Incantatory abstractions for days, as dense as Pynchon or Robbe-Grillet. L'amour c'est la mort, faddish kinks for the jet set but infernal intimations for the heroine, Mabuse's heir takes advantage of the situation. "A day for me only begins at night." Mickey Spillane interludes, the oneiric drift of trolleys. Fable of the countess and her castle, a fuzzy blonde (Lina De Wolf) in a roomful of staring mannequins decked out in historical gowns, "this one belonged to Lola Montez, and this one to Madama Butterfly." Franco's constellation, parallel with the Losey of Boom and Secret Ceremony. Horror icons as toys on a mantel, Dracula and the Phantom of the Opera and Godzilla do not frighten the S&M artist, "they're quite sweet." Couples filmed through birdcages and fishbowls, windshield views of cathedrals and angels. Kiss and blade together at the close, naturellement. "My friend, these impulses not controlled by your unconscious show very serious modalities. I'll explain that to you some other time." Godard repays the compliment in Le Gai savoir. With Adrian Hoven, Nathalie Nort, and Pier A. Caminnecci.
--- Fernando F. Croce |