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9
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8 |
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10
= Highest Rating |
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SNEAK
PREVIEW
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DVD Release Date: July
25, 2006
Guest
Review by Troy
Howarth |
Lorna
(Janine Reynaud) is an exotic dancer whose deranged
fantasies begin to seep into her everyday existence...
Though
he had already made a name for himself with such
stylish black and white horrors as The
Awful Dr. Orlof (1961) and The
Diabolical Dr. Z (1966), Succubus
is, in many respects, the first representative
example of Jess Franco's unique brand of cinema.
Granted complete creative control by producers
Pier A. Caminnecci and Adrian Hoven, and freed
from the censorship associated with shooting for
Spanish producers, Franco cut loose in this film,
creating a stylized fever dream that blends horror,
eroticism and art house leanings in such a way
as to be virtually beyond description. Like so
many of the great Franco films that came along
in its wake — including
Venus
in Furs (1969), Eugenie
de Sade (1970) and A
Virgin Among the Living Dead (1971) —
Succubus has all
the markings of a horror film, but it shouldn't
be approached as a conventional genre picture.
The story is deliberately vague
and obtuse. Scenes appear to melt into one another,
and when the film finally fades to black it is
harder to recall a specific chronology or narrative
arc than it is to marvel over individual set-pieces.
Franco leaves the door open to interpretation,
refusing to tie things up in the final reel. One
can watch the film and view Lorna as a schizophrenic,
or as a hand maiden of the Devil; neither reading
is more compelling than the other, and the film
makes just as much sense one way as it does the
other. Viewers accustomed to having things laid
out in a more conventional manner will likely
find the film maddening for this reason, but it
is key to the film's peculiar personality and
impact. Franco wears his influences on his sleeve,
working in explicit references to some of his
favorite films (La Dolce
Vita), directors (Fritz Lang), authors
(Henry Miller) and his passion for jazz music.
The film is undeniably pretentious, but there
is a slightly mocking tone that tips the viewer
to the notion that he isn't taking himself too
terribly seriously. For example, the marvelous
extended homage to La Dolce
Vita incorporates all manner of pseudo-intellectual
posturing as the partygoers get more and more
blasted on booze and LSD, but cutaway shots to
a smirking Adrian Hoven reading hopelessly garbled
text from an esoteric volume give the scene a
vaguely comedic edge. The film is never as accessible
as, say, Venus in Furs
but it's an absolutely essential title in the
director's filmography, one that represents the
template for so much that would soon follow.
In what
is unquestionably her finest screen role, model
turned actress Janine Reynaud (Kiss
Me, Monster) dominates the film as Lorna.
With her serpentine frame, androgynous looks and
smoky sexuality, Reynaud is a very different fetish
actress from such Franco favorites as Lina Romay,
Maria Rohm or Soledad Miranda. There's a sexually
ambiguous level to Reynaud, as well as a sense
of world-weary familiarity, that gives her a very
special appeal. She also proves to be a competent
actress, adept at conveying the sense of mystery
that is so vital to the character. Soon to become
one of Franco's favorite leading men, Jack Taylor
makes his first apperance for the director playing
Lorna's shifty manager/boyfriend. A very capable
American actor who found a comfortable niche in
Spanish exploitation films, Taylor is icily effective
in a very ambiguous role. And what would a Franco
film be without Howard Vernon? The venerable Swiss-American
actor had already appeared in a number of the
director's films, notably essaying the lead in
Awful Dr. Orlof,
and while his role here is limited to a small
cameo appearance during a dream sequence (or is
it?) he makes a fantastic impression. Indeed,
Vernon's scene in the film is one of the best
in Franco's oeuvre altogether —
he plays "the Admiral", who engages Lorna
in an extended word association game, the scene
becoming more and more absurdly over the top before
culminating in an act of violence. Having lobbied
hard to play the Taylor role, producer Adrian
Hoven ended up instead playing a smug psychiatrist
who pops into the action at odd moments to make
even odder observations ("They tell me the
guinea pigs have died!"). Co-producer Pier
A. Caminnecci, also credited with the screenplay
(likely for quota purposes, as it seems likely
that what little script there was was penned by
Franco himself) also plays a small role as a jaded
playboy, while Reynaud's husband, the sinister
Michel Lemoine (Seven
Women for Satan), shows up as a man who may
or may not be the Devil.
With
its fantastic jazz score by Friedrich Gulda and
Jerry Van Rooyen and luminous cinematography by
Jorge Herrero and Franz Lederle, Succubus
maintains a dreamy ambiance from beginning to
end. While one can criticize the film for being
too vague or emotionally distant, seeing it should
nevertheless erase any doubts as to Franco's talents
as a filmmaker. There isn't a shoddy frame in
the whole picture, and if it lacks the sheer emotional
impact of Venus in Furs
(still, in this reviewer's estimation, the finest
of all his films) it nevertheless towers above
much of his filmography as a film of tremendous
technical skill and imagination.
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Previously released on DVD/VHS
by Anchor Bay in a washed out, fullscreen edition
(now OOP), Succubus
finally gets a good release from Blue Underground.
The good news is that the film looks terrific,
with some minor limitations; the bad is that the
edition on display is not uncut. The 1.66/16x9
transfer is extremely colorful —
some of the primaries look like they want to jump
off the screen, and the framing restores some
info lopped off of the AB edition. There is some
grain present, and a few shots look rather soft,
but this is likely part and parcel of the film's
aesthetic design. Clocking in at 79 minutes, the
U.S. cut appears to be missing some footage. Various
sources of dubious credibility have listed the
film as being as long as 95 minutes, but while
this could be an exaggeration, Francophiles who
had the pleasure of seeing the film theatrically
in the late '60s insist that there was more footage
on display. The credits seem to bear this out
— not only is Howard
Vernon's surname misspelled as "Varnon",
but there is a credit for those involved in the
creation of the U.S. edition, including a separate
team of editors. Just how much is missing from
the American version is hard to gauge —
this is not a plot -oriented movie to begin with,
and it would have been fairly easy to remove bits
and pieces of footage to heighten the air of weirdness.
Ultimately Blue Underground can't be faulted for
offering the best edition of the film as most
American viewers have known it, but one remains
hopeful that the longer European edit will find
its way to DVD at some point in the future.
The mono English audio is crisp and clean. The
dubbing is competently written and performed,
and the music comes through with ample presence.
Extras include an appropriately trippy theatrical
trailer ("The sensual experience of '69!"),
and two newly produced featurettes. First up is
From Necronomicon to Succubus, which refers
to the title change between the German and American
editions of the film, and which features a still
spry and energetic Jess Franco reflecting on one
of his best works. Chain-smoking as usual, Franco
recalls the peculiar circumstances that led to
the film's production, placing particular emphasis
on the freedom he was given. He recalls the cast
with fondness and seems to remain fond of the
film nearly 40 years after the fact. Next up is
Back in Berlin, which features a rare on-camera
interview with Jack Taylor. The soft-spoken American
recalls his days of working with Franco very fondly,
but he refuses to fawn over the films that they
made, noting that he was pleased with films like
Succubus but later
grew disenchanted as the director's films became
less technically sound and more reliant on hardcore
interludes. He comes across as a genial and funny
man, and one can only hope that he will continue
to participate in retrospective pieces on his
films as they are released.
7/09/06
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