Requiem for a Vampire

Two young females with a propensity for thieving are forced to escape into the countryside by themselves after their male partner is shot during a high speed car chase. Removing their clown make-up, and therefore rendering themselves unidentifiable, they rob a motorcycle before stopping off at a hot dog stall to steal some food (talk about kleptomania!). However their travels seem to be destined to take a turn for the mystical when they stumble across a desolate graveyard in the middle of nowhere. Catching up on some sleep (and nearly getting buried alive in the case of one of the girls) they head off on their meandering journey only to discover an isolated castle that initially seems deserted. Taking up camp inside one of the oddly inviting rooms they get down to a bit of lesbian skin-rubbing before it becomes apparent to them that they are not alone: the castle is inhabited by a number of vampires and their human minions, all ruled over by a dying vampire who needs new ‘blood’ in the family to keep the demon gene alive. The girls are soon infected and dragged into a weird world of amorality and debauchery.

Jean Rollin’s fourth feature length film, Requiem for a Vampire (1971), continued a development of the themes that he would eventually become renowned for amongst the small pockets of cult fans around the world who remain devoted to his work to this day. Rollin’s approach here appears to be fairly relaxed as the film rolls on with little sense of urgency, stretching out a minimalist plot to create a dreamy fantasy world populated by unusual people whose behavioural patterns will barely be recognisable to the likes of us. Absorbed in the right way Requiem... can be an immersing experience, constructing around the viewer an enticing supernatural domain where sex and death collide without regard for the heavily religious construct that we generally find ourselves trapped within.

Conventional film-making is no point of comparison when it comes to analysing the works of Jean Rollin, as many of his fans would surely attest, therefore there is little here that is likely to attract followers of the mainstream. A film such as this is more like a forbidden treasure appreciated by just a few, whilst the rest of humanity remains blissfully oblivious to what’s really there. But the true bliss is in the appreciation.  Not aiding any commercial appeal, Requiem… plays almost like a silent movie for much of its running time, telling its story principally through the actions of the two girls, rather than words. With the first half hour of the movie playing almost completely without dialogue, the script itself (very quickly written according to Rollin's own testament) must surely have used up no more than a few pages.

Breaking up the barren silence, aside from sounds of nature, our attention is maintained partly by exquisite, occasionally insane music punctuated by more melodic interludes, making this movie feel like an epic prog rock track reconstructed visually, and the soundtrack truly comes into its own during the show-stopping dungeon orgy/rape sequence where several of the vampire’s human neanderthal minions force themselves on a group of chained women, spiralling intensity towards near fever pitch. This was the scene that once caused a problem for the BBFC in the UK (now uncensored on the Indicator discs) and even Rollin himself has claimed that it went on for too long (several screen minutes), but call me a perverted crazy man, I love it! It’s surreal, sexy, violent, defiantly non-PC, and completely mad. The more macabre elements of the movie are not spine-tingling in the slightest, but there is a skewed gothic edge which keeps one leg rooted in horror, an innate genre acknowledgement common to most of Rollin’s non-pornographic outings - it’s unlikely to satisfy those more accustomed to the conventional slasher or torture films that proliferate these days.

One of Rollin’s other strengths is demonstrated here in abundance: great choice and photography of natural (i.e. non-set based) locations. The castle, cemetery, and surrounding countryside is quite a feast for the eyes. Finally, the protagonists themselves are typical choices for this director - two nubile young women with a tendency towards physically relating to one another, making their way through an alien world which they have no real inclination to question. Nobody made films like Jean Rollin and this one - shot in his prime - is one of the best examples of his work.

The old US Redemption/Image DVD utilised a non-anamorphic transfer that was a mess of interlacing issues, haze, moiré effects, and some digital problems that I’d never even seen anywhere else. It was higher in detail than the Redemption VHS tape I bought in the nineties, but only marginally (although I was glad for this at the time I bought the DVD due to my old UK tape - where I first thankfully discovered this film in the earlier 90s - being heavily cut). The Kino-distributed Redemption Blu-ray blew away the old DVD in every respect. There were no noticeable digital flaws, simply a film-like image with balanced colour and nice detail. There was a special edition DVD of the film previously from Encore, improved over the Redemption DVD, which appeared to be ramped up in the brightness department with a different hue. The Blu-ray was a little more detailed, but colour and brightness certainly were more natural. Sound was appreciably provided in original French language with good subtitles, and no other way should it be viewed (there is an English dub but personally I can't see anyone remotely interested in this film watching it that way, unless they really do hate subtitled material). The Encore DVD did, however, win in the extras department, but on the BD you got an introduction from the late director, an 18 minute documentary on the film, a ten minute interview with Louise Dhour, some trailers and a nice booklet.

As with prior releases of Jean Rollin projects, Indicator (the Powerhouse Films label) have trumped everything with dual releases on either UHD or HD Blu-ray, limited to 10000 units. Firstly you have the choice to watch either English or French versions - presumably seamlessly branched, there's a few seconds of difference between them (there is also a little more dialogue in the English version!).  The 1.66:1 4K-restored image is sharper than ever, although one might prefer the colour timing of the Redemption Blu-ray, which is warmer and not as bright.  Sound is crystal clear, English translated subtitles are excellent, and the overall package is typically one of beauty, my only complaint if one can call it that being the cover selection.  I personally would have preferred poster art over the head vampire's face, but it really is not a deal-breaker.  As before there is a gorgeous book, digipack containing the disc, and a hard outer case (individually numbered).

Many extras have been pulled from the old legendary Encore edition alongside Redemption's Blu-ray, including interviews with Rollin (which are, as he speaks in English, quite difficult to understand), a nice talk from Louise Dhour (who had appeared in a number of Rollin projects), the candid actor - Paul Bisciglia - who played the randy old guy chasing one of the girls through the castle, plus a segment where Rollin talks about his published books, reading a portion of one of them for us.  Additionally we get a newly edited 40 minute reflection of the shoot and general Rollin themes from ever-present Natalie Perry, the assistant director, and Daniel Bird.  As with many of the other Indicator Rollin releases, there's also a packed talk (7 minutes) from the informative and knowledgeable Virginie Selavy.

Three bonus extras present less effective 'clothed' sequences of shots in Requiem..., which I assume would have been used in a further truncated version of the film.  There are three trailers (Caged Virgins being a highlight), a stills gallery, a full commentary (Troy Howarth and Nathaniel Thompson), and partial commentary from Rollin himself. 

The book, mentioned above, consists of a reasonable essay by Maria J Perez Cuervo, the original French press book text (translated), a fine retrospective on Requiem... by Rollin himself (which includes a particular anecdote that can't possibly be true!), a reproduction of one of Rollin's short stories, and a piece about producer Harry Novak's introduction of Rollin to American audiences. The best component of the book is an interview with Rollin, originally published for Video Watchdog,  where he talks about a number of his 70s projects including a bit about the legendary Phantasmes, which I truly hope Indicator will restore at last.

It almost goes without saying that this is another exemplary release from Indicator. 

The Demoniacs

Following his infamous series of four vampire films between 1968 and 1972, Jean's output started to vary in thematic tone a little.  Aside from the porn films that he was forced to make in order to keep going financially, the trio of 'proper' movies that followed included this supernatural homage to the pirate serials he grew up loving.  The Demoniacs (1974) introduces us to a troupe of scruffy, grimy pirates, three guys and a perpetually orgasmic woman (a brilliant Joëlle Coeur, who'd been previously seen in Schoolgirl Hitchhikers).  These bandits discover a couple of shipwrecked innocent young women limping in from the ocean.  Spotting an opportunity for what they see as chaotic fun, the sadistic bunch proceed to violently assault the two women, leaving them for dead to go about their business of getting drunk and laid (even more) in the local tavern.  The two victims, however, seem to survive.  On a quest for revenge they elicit the help of a nearby spiritual sorcerer who grants them the powers that they will need.

Probably of little concern here is the plot itself, as with many of Rollin's films - it's more so an excuse to indulge in strange situations, exquisite location work and imagery, peppered with some sexual shenanigans to keep things lively.  The opening score is oddly professional, perhaps putting the average viewer into a false sense of expectation.  I imagine such expectation would be quickly dashed once the proceedings are underway.  The rape sequence(s) are quite unpleasant, the two girls treated horribly by the whole group of pirates.  The subsequent morality explorations are strange to the say the least, particularly when the conclusion is taken into consideration (I won't reveal where it goes).  In a way though, whilst somewhat unsatisfying on one level, it does result in the offbeat and unexpected that contributes to Rollin's work existing in such a weird, periodically beautiful universe all of its own.  Quite long for a Rollin film (depending on which version you watch - see below), The Demoniacs maintains a perverse allure, at the same time different from much of his other work and undefiantly Rollin in personality.

It goes without saying that Powerhouse, with their famed Indicator label, have once again delivered a wonderful definitive edition.  Most amazingly, they've compiled three versions of the film.  Probably the most recommended is the theatrical version, which runs 100 minutes, followed by a more explicit export version (109 minutes), as well as the trimmed-down Curse of the Living Dead version, 86 minutes.  The limited edition Ultra-HD disc (also available as a Blu-ray), 1.85:1 framed, looks astounding compared to the previous Blu-rays and especially DVDs, utilising as it does the negative for the restorations and treated with great respect as a piece of 35mm.  Digital restoration has come such a long way even in ten years, and what once looked exemplary is now put into the shadows by comparison (although the Redemption releases were excellent for the time, and still pleasing to watch).  Obviously the mono-audio derived language is French with newly translated English subtitles (aside from Curse..., which is English dubbed).

The disc is packed with commentary material and interviews, the best on-disc extra being a forty-minute appreciation by Stephen Thrower - he has a knack for weeding out what makes moving art good, identifying rationale that enlightens even long-term fans such as myself, and he does a better job of explaining why Rollin's work is so relevant in the world of cinema than I could ever do myself.  I'd even suggest it's a good starting point for those new to Rollin, so that the initially perplexed response can be put into perspective as the open-minded viewer sees the beauty beneath the layers that are at odds with what he/she conventionally defines as good film-making.

The gorgeous bundled book contains a range of material.  Firstly an essay from the critic Alexandra Heller-Nicholas, a person who appears to be generally hung up on gender politics and (here, as well as in other published work) peculiarly obsessed with rape-revenge concepts.  My theory is that in an ideally civilised world, where feminists could not really justify treating men like the worthless sub-humans that they see them to be, the act of rape gives these dogmatic individuals the excuse they need to unleash their unmasked contempt.  In spite of this the essay is not too psychotic...

Much better is a brilliant overview of Rollin's career, followed by late-life interview with the director - this was produced by Mike Lebbing for the legendary Encore DVD releases in the noughties.  There's also a very welcome, at times bizarre, making-of recollection essay by Rollin himself, outlining the difficulties of the shoot, thoughts on the actors, etc.  These are great inclusions, and conclude with an interview with Monica Swinn, one of the tavern denizens in the film.  As with the previous Rollin releases from Indicator, the book and disc case are held within a hard-box outer case.  All very luxurious in quality, I hope they continue this for the rest of the Jean Rollin editions.

The Nude Vampire

It could be said that this was Rollin's first real debut feature film, seeing as it was that Rape of the Vampire really began life as a short and was later embellished with more material to transform it into a full length movie. Not only that, but 1970’s The Nude Vampire (or La Vampire Nue) switched to colour (no doubt due to an increase in available funds) and seemed to really kick off some of the themes that cemented the road into Rollin's future directorial career.

Following the discovery of an oddly mute woman pursued by mysterious animal-masked (à la The Wicker Man) individuals, a bored, bourgeois young man by the name of Pierre adopts a certain degree of interest in his snobbish father's covert nightly activities. His interest and cunning gains him access to the exclusive-entry mansion where the running female had escaped from earlier - inside he discovers groups of masked individuals indulging in strange nocturnal activities (sounds like my local council). The blood/death cult appear to be willingly sacrificing themselves to the very woman that Pierre came across earlier, and despite the fact that she was apparently shot dead before his rapid departure, she now walks around looking rather healthy and all too happy to feast on the life fluid of the recently despatched cult members.

Like the character of Pierre, we the viewers are confronted by a rather unhinged little world where people act in an unusual fashion, possibly oblivious to their own purpose in the greater good. In this sense, the nonchalant manner of many of the actors seems have been unwittingly suited to the characters they are portraying. Pierre's access to the mansion is gained in amusing fashion, and inside the world only becomes weirder. The collision of vampirism, eroticism, and pseudo-science clearly announces the developing idiosyncratic tendencies of the film's creator, and - leanings towards scientific territory aside - formed part of the legacy that would eventually result in viewers such as myself with niche tastes being able to enjoy his many cinematic excursions decades later.

This film also marked the first of many whereby his staple concept of two united nubile females would remain attached throughout their journey within the story, albeit relegated to almost background status in this particular outing. This staple would fully manifest itself in the likes of Requiem for a Vampire. Furthermore, the conclusion manages to find its way to the rough seashore that would also play a significant part in so many of his stories. The Nude Vampire (incidentally, the titular character, whilst admittedly stunning to look at, is more often than not clothed, albeit in a translucent fashion) is not the best of Rollin's films but it boasts indelible stamps of his personality all over it, and it's nicely shot as a bonus (as were many of his best works) - recognition must go to Rollin's cinematographers (here Jean-Jacques Renon, who frequently lensed Rollin's seventies flicks) for their role in the recreation of an abundance of attractive images, and I would argue that they are too omnipresent to dismiss Rollin himself as an incompetent or occasionally lucky director (which most casual viewers – and indeed audiences of the time according to Rollin’s own testimonies - would probably be all too happy to do).

As part of an ongoing series, The Nude Vampire has had a new UHD and HD makeover (1.66:1); eternal thanks to the Indicator label of Powerhouse Films.  The previous 2012 Blu-ray from Kino, in their collaboration with Redemption, was a notable improvement over older presentations.  The new Indicator discs are a surprisingly substantial upgrade again – I thought the Redemption disc was really nice, however, it’s quite astounding how much more there was to pull out of the negative in terms of small detail and fine film grain.  Having been watching this since the Redemption VHS days in the 90s (and later again on DVD) it's satisfying to experience these films in the kind of quality that I believe represents how they were meant to be viewed.

Audio was available in both French and English for the Redemption release, whereas on Indicator there are two slightly differently edited versions, one French language (new English translated subtitles), one English – both versions are exactly the same length.  Redemption extras totalled around thirty minutes with a long interview with the director, an introduction, some trailers, and a further interview with Natalie Perrey, who worked on a number of Rollin's films in various capacities, from script writing to acting to editing. The package at that time contained the same booklet that made its way into the other Blu-rays from the first wave of releases from Kino (I’m not sure why they did this because the same fans, such as myself, inevitably ended up with multiple copies of the same booklets).  Indicator’s release is a little different, containing roughly the same amount of filmed extras plus a commentary from Jonathan Rigby plus Kevin Lyons.  Similar to the other Indicator 4Ks, the housing case is attractively designed with original poster art containing an inner case that holds the disc.  The bundled book is gloriously high quality, highlights include a couple of interviews (one of the 70s, one the 90s) with Rollin – I love that they are exhuming legacy materials such as this – and a decent essay by David Jenkins.  The packaging design of these discs is very respectful, acknowledging Rollin as the auteur that he really was. All in all, while mainstream viewers may find this film a little too inaccessible for conventional tastes, Rollin fans will want this straight away.

Lips of Blood

Obsessed with vague memories of a childhood nocturnal encounter with a strange but alluring woman, Philippe happens across some photographs at a get-together that remind him of the castle where the encounter supposedly took place. After forcing a photographer friend to tell him where the place actually is, he manages to arrange a meeting with the mysterious woman but along the way comes across four female vampires.  There may also be more to the woman than he initially realised, or remembered.  Philippe is on a strange journey to uncover secrets of his past.

The plots of Rollin films are often superfluous to the overall product - his films consist of recurring concepts contained within evocative visuals. His choice of location during the 60s through to early 80s was a notable strength, facilitating the creation of incredible-looking movies on miniscule budgets. He tended to utilise vampires, eroticism and gothic imagery to a great extent and with some often beautiful cinematography he was able to craft dreamlike experiences for the lucky viewers who connected with the material. Many people who watch his work may find it unprofessional (often due to the limited acting skills on display, alongside non-existent special effects budgets) but I’m one of the fortunate few who can escape into the strange universes of Jean Rollin. Lèvres de Sang (or Lips of Blood in translation), released in 1975, provides that opportunity with relish, although is not quite up there with my favourites (Requiem Pour un Vampire, and Frisson des Vampires for example). If you already adore the work of Rollin then you will almost certainly like this; if you’re unfamiliar then this remains a good place to start. Prepare yourself, if you are willing, to be carried away to a unique world of collision between fairy tale, mystery, and horror.

Once released on DVD both in the US and UK by Redemption, the disc contained a nicely presented non-anamorphic 1.66:1 image of Lips…, the colours being strong for the time with plenty of visual information to treat the viewer’s eyes to. The French soundtrack was good and subtitles perfectly legible. There were some cursory extras included though the release was later superseded to an extent by the Encore 3 disc edition (available from the continent), which came as an anamorphically enhanced (albeit incorrectly framed at 1.78:1) SE, this time arriving with a mountain of extras.

Redemption later teamed up with Kino Lorber to put Lips of Blood out on Blu-ray, and at the very least it revealed how good the previous DVDs actually were!  Detail was marginally improved, while colour and brightness levels were more balanced, plus it is accurately framed.  Language track again was in French (with optional and very clear English subtitles), which was suitably clear and technically uncompressed.  Trailers for various Rollin films are present on that Blu-ray, along with an introduction by the now deceased director, and an interesting interview with Rollin regular, Natalie Perrey, who revealed that the shoot for the film wasn't entirely comfortable.

Indicator finally acquired US and UK rights to embellish the film with a 4K transfer, released on both Blu-ray and UHD Blu-ray in a beautiful limited edition that conceals the disc in a digipack style case, this accompanied by a gorgeously presented book(let) within a hard outer case.  The transfer is improved once again, levelling out a consistent and fine grain-field in particular.  The extras package is significantly superior to the previous discs also, plentiful interviews (including a nice piece with Rollin’s son, who played the boy in the memories of Philippe).  The booklet is of very high quality, weighty and attractive paper.  Aside from some essential material about the project at hand by Rollin himself, there is also an essay from Maitland McDonagh - with trepidation I gave this a chance and on a positive note there is a lot of interesting commentary on the film itself and its fantastical, poetic beauty, however, she can't quite help herself with a descent into feminist-tinged griping by the final paragraph (masculine vampires apparently having hogged the limelight with the likes of Dracula, et al... sigh).  It's a shame that many boutique labels are resorting to digging up film critics who apply their contemporary obsessions with race and (here) gender to more or less everything that comes across their path.  It's a form of unnecessary and poisonous reductionism utilised to pollute the minds of others with a victimhood whining that has significantly less base in reality than is presented, and is really a means of acquiring more for oneself via the easiest means possible.  Sadly, omitting the first and particularly final paragraphs of this essay would have resulted in a much more useful addition to the booklet in my mind, but as it stands it feels as though it's once again a surreptitious means to an end in transmitting a distorted feminist ideology on to any person gullible enough to suck it up (and there are plenty - witness the success of Barbie for example).

Aside from this gripe, there is much to saviour about this release.  Delivered in its now definitive edition from Indicator, Lips of Blood is an enjoyable portrait of an individual's lost childhood manifesting its faded memories to an adult who is now ready to make a step into another dimension.  Or more simplistically perhaps, a fairly surreal erotic vampire film, whichever way you want to look at it.

Rape of the Vampire

The first feature of legendary French sex/horror director, Jean Rollin, Rape of the Vampire (AKA in French, Le Viol du Vampire, from 1968) infamously started out as a short film, later being expanded to feature length (although still being structured in the final product as two parts, even so far as to having the second part credits midway through the film!).  Feeling almost like a silent product that has stumbled into the sixties, the story has something to do with a group of women, believing that they are creatures of the night, who have been enslaved by a strange old man posing as an effigy.  They are tracked down with attempts made to 'save' them from their apparent psychosis in the first part.  In the second part the mythical vampire queen herself materialises to despatch the old man, reviving the dead where possible, and coming into conflict with a doctor who is searching to cure vampirism.

It's not an especially easy film to 'like', particularly from a conventional perspective, and mainstream audiences will probably have switched off within minutes.  The narrative flow is awkward (although Rollin stated that it made perfect sense to him), and personally I struggle to fully understand of what's going on.  Proving as he did later on that his art sits within a surreal, supernatural realm, the hallmarks of his work take shape here.  The film is probably best approached as one might witness a dream unfolding, something that makes little sense but can at times be captivating in its own right.  Certainly the first part, running approximately half an hour, shows great promise: it is steeped in some incredible gothic imagery, as the girls reside in a dilapidated house in the middle of a winter-stripped forest.  Rollin shows amazing flare for composition, drawing the viewer into a world that they might want to remain enslaved within.  The second part is where I find difficulty, with the story meandering possibly a little too much, but as I say, if one approaches in a certain way there is value to to be acquired.

I have a long history with this film, as with many of Rollin's other classic works.  This began with Redemption introducing us more adventurous fans in the UK market to his work in the 90s via VHS.  Rape of the Vampire, as with several other Rollin works, was foolishly cut by the BBFC at the time (around 41 seconds), an affliction that remained until 2023.  In the early noughties I picked up the stateside Redemption (who had shifted operations overseas, most likely thanks to the BBFC) DVD release which offered a better presentation.  Around 2012 Redemption (alongside Kino) updated their offering with an improved Blu-ray.  This delivered excellent picture quality and a booklet (mostly written by Tim Lucas and suffixed with thoughts from Nigel Wingrove, founder of Redemption Films) - this was the best release by far at this point, containing interviews, a documentary, short films, and other titbits.

Finally (and this must surely be definitive), after Indicator acquired US/UK rights to the Rollin catalogue, both a 4K and Blu-ray upgrade edition appears.  I picked up the 4K edition (limited to 6000, whereas the Blu is limited to  4000).  This has been remastered from the negative and frankly looks incredible, the stark black and white photography (framed quite rightly at 1.66:1) truly showing off its beauty whilst being underpinned by a consistent and finely rendered level of grain (which has not been over-managed at all by Indicator - this is how film should be presented).  Considering the film was produced mostly by amateurs, it's quite astounding what a work of beauty they achieved here.

As always, the audio is French language with English subtitles.  The design of the package is wonderful: a weighty feel, the outer slipcase holds a book and digipack style disc holder, all adorned with carefully selected artwork.  It should also be pointed out that Indicator have finally gotten this one past a marginally more sensible BBFC for 2023; it is now uncut.  The extras gathered is quite something, taking the owner days to trawl through.  As with the others in this series, there is an exquisitely presented book/booklet (it teeters between the two, consisting as it does of 80 pages on high quality paper) with articles and interviews acquired from various sources.  The best of these is an extensive making-of essay by Rollin himself that documents the genesis and shooting of the film, including it's rather sad initial audience reactions (inappropriate as they were, the project still managed to bring in unexpected amounts of money).  The extras of the old Redemption Blu-ray are largely present, including filmed interviews, an extended (several minutes longer on the Indicator) making-of documentary as well as a lovely pre-Rape 16 minute short by Rollin called The Far Countries (AKA Les pays loin), 1965.  This will sound familiar: two lovers-to-be (male and female here, rather than the lesbians of Rollin's later work) are lost in a maze of inhospitable city streets unable to find their way to the centre or back out, everyone they speak for help to using unrecognisable foreign tongue, until they effectively locate refuge and settle with one another.  Even this short is treated with great respect in the Indicator set: remastered in gorgeous 1.66:1 B&W, it contains a commentary from the director (prompted at various points by an interviewer), accompanying stills, and a piece in the book.

The Redemption disc does contain Rollin's very first film (The Yellow Loves, AKA Les amours jaunes) from 1958 which does not appear in the new set (instead there is a reconstruction of one of his lost early shorts, L’Itinéraire souvenir), so I am of course hopeful it will turn up on one of Indicator's other releases.  The other thing that the Redemption has to its benefit is the aforementioned Tim Lucas booklet essay, which may be considered quite invaluable.  On the whole though, the extras of the Indicator set far outweighs anything previously.

Even if this lovingly produced package did not contain the title film - just the extras, design, and book - it would be worth the asking price.  Overall, a flawed (from my point of view) beginning for Jean Rollin punctuated by moments of ethereal beauty, Rape of the Vampire has been bestowed with its most significant home video offering, one which will surely never be bettered.  Now, imagine for a second if major studios treated their catalogue titles like this...

Two Orphan Vampires

Two Orphan Vampires (which I'd probably give 2.5/5) has interesting aspects but it's not my favourite of Rollin's and probably could have done with some trimming.  It features the adventures of two blind orphans who regain their sight nocturnally, but also go on the prowl as blood-drinking ghouls.  They become adopted by a priest, but it really is just a cover for their vampiric activities.  It's purely strange fantasy and is not meant to be considered as serious drama.  The score itself works fantastically in some places but is cumbersome in others.  Probably not the best one to start with if you're unfamiliar with Rollin's work (for that I would suggest Requiem for a Vampire, Shiver of the Vampires, or Fascination), but if you are familiar and like what he did in the 70s/80s then this one does hold some value.  There is one standout sequence for me - the cemetery chase (bizarre in many respects) which leads to the two girls discovering a residing vampire who lends them her underground lair for the night.  It's the strongest five minutes or so of the film, oozing supernatural, funereal ambience.

Regarding what Indicator have produced.  Firstly, I'm surprised they've gone with more niche Euro horror titles for their 4K debuts, but as a fan of that area I am not complaining one bit.  The other simultaneous release (which I've also received but not watched yet) is Shiver of the Vampires, and that one definitely is one of my favourites.  Two Orphan Vampires is presented properly in this new edition at 1.66:1.  You have French language and English language audio tracks to choose from, with good English language translated subtitles for the former.  Personally I would not recommend watching the film in English, French is the way to go, but it's fantastic that the choice is there.

The 90s low-budget cinematography does not always make for the prettiest of viewing, although Rollin makes his usual atmospheric use of locations, and there are a couple of inspired moments.  The new 4K transfer retains grain in abundance and detail is as high as might be possible with the film - it looks natural, organic, and probably as fine as it can.   Colours are often subdued so the HDR doesn't have to work too hard.  In comparison with the previous Blu-ray from Redemption, the new disc has a finer and more consistent grain structure with a touch more detail (although I would give credit to the Redemption release for being very good).  The French language track (mono) sounds very clean, and the subs are highly legible.  I'd say Indicator have done a respectful job with this, it is the best home video presentation (previously I bought the Redemption Blu-ray as mentioned, and the Shriek Show DVD before that, which was awful).

The extras list is comprehensive, as you might expect from Indicator, they've put a lot of effort into the filmed work.  The outer package might not be what you anticipate if you're got the likes of Night of the Demon and Swimmer LEs in your collection - the slipcase is much slimmer, closer to the thickness of a normal Blu-ray.  Inside are two components: a digipack style holder for the disc, and a very high quality booklet which overall lends the package a weighty and classy feel.  Indicator have thoughtfully (and other labels producing 'Limited Editions' should take note of the this!) individually numbered the rear side of the outer case - I understand that the UHD is limited to 6000 worldwide and the Blu-ray equivalent 4000.

This will be the last release you would ever need of this latter day Rollin, I'm quite sure of that!  A fine debut to 4K for one of the best boutique labels.

Schoolgirl Hitchhikers

If this title makes you think that this film should be banned then you're probably expecting a bit too much!  The narrative follows a couple of wandering young women ('natch - this is a Jean Rollin film after all) who look a little older than schoolgirls to me, although would still probably pass for university students.  Milling through the beautiful French countryside they discover an apparently abandoned chateau where they decide to spend the night exploring each other's bodies, etc.  They don't realize that a gangster is sitting around downstairs waiting for a couple of colleagues, but when one of the girls does bump into this guy she uses the opportunity to explore his body as well.  However, when the other gangster shows up with some sort of mistress who seems to run the show, they find that their pick-up - some expensive thieved jewels - are missing.  Immediately they suspect the two girls, so they go off to capture them (they left the same morning), bring them back and torture them into talking.  One of them escapes and acquires the 'skills' of a bungling local private detective and before long everybody is mixed up in a mystery of missing jewels, exposed flesh, and misunderstandings.

I wanted to see this one for years, ever since I read about it in a 90s copy of the essential obscurity review magazine Is It Uncut?.  It goes without saying that this film (known in French as Jeunes Filles Impudiques and directed under his porn pseudonym of Michel Gentil) abandons the horror elements of Rollin's better known work but remains undeniably a product of his eccentric imagination.  During the mildly titillating lesbian activities early on it looks like it could get boring - 80 minutes of sex is not of much interest to me in a film.  But fortunately Rollin brings in lots of idiosyncratic plot quirks that keep boredom at arm's length.  There are some mild elements of violence although I was surprised to find one aspect of the torture scenes had me looking away from the screen, and it wasn't even gory!  One of the main girls is Joëlle Coeur, a tarty but attractive young thing who also turned up in Rollin's Demoniacs.  The other actors here are typical props in the Rollin universe - functional without ever straying into award-winning territory (or anywhere near).

I picked up Redemption's US Blu-ray of Schoolgirl Hitchhikers with some hesitation after reading about cine-wobble.  Unfortunately it is present and quite distracting although thankfully not for the entire film, which would have made it completely unwatchable - I'd say it makes up around 40% of the shots at an estimate, and takes the form of a slight frame-to-frame jittering that is noticeable (and probably discounts trying to view this on a very large screen).  It's a terrible shame that this couldn't have been corrected (I suspect it would be either too time consuming and/or expensive for something with minimal target audience) but I am still glad to own this one.  There is occasional print damage, which I've no problem with personally, and the colours are washed-out/pasty, but these factors at least give it that currently in vogue grindhouse feel.  The film is presented in full HD at around 1.66:1 and detail is pleasing.  The French language mono audio is fine and English subtitles are good (I much prefer watching foreign language films on Blu-ray because subtitles actually look like normal text rather than Spectrum graphics!).  Nothing else is really provided as extra material except a few trailers (no booklet like the other Rollin releases) so this is fairly bare-bones all round.

This film has a little bit of a sense of humour (especially once the idiot detective and his strangely young pig-tailed female assistant are introduced), with a couple of fairly attractive lead girls and an intertwined plot about gangster theft and a mistress that seems like she wandered out of Fascination.  It's not a bad little piece but receives a frustratingly inconsistent disc release from what is otherwise one of my favourite companies.

Upcoming Jean Rollin Blu-rays, Wave 2

Great news: following the recent batch of five Jean Rollin titles released on Blu-ray by Kino/Redemption (four of which I now have) they've now announced for May a further three titles: Rape of the Vampire/Viol Du Vampire (his first B&W feature, which effectively began life as a short film and was later extended), the much more interesting (IMO) Demoniacs, and one of his crowning acheivements Requiem for a Vampire.  Can't wait!

Fascination

1979, France, Directed by Jean Rollin
Colour, Running Time: 81 minutes
Review Source: Blu-ray, Region A, Kino Lorber; Video: 1.66:1 1080p 24fps, Audio: LPCM 2.0

Among those that have seen and dislike Jean Rollin’s work his skills behind the camera are undoubtedly in question. His movies may sometimes come across as clumsy or amateurish with his performers usually only vaguely aware of what constitutes good acting. But he continued to direct films over a three decade period with regularity, and aside from stopping off at one or two other genres along the way he generally drifted between porn and fantasy horror often amalgamating the staples of his two specialist areas with wanton disregard for established trends. Could there have been something more to this man and his material than tits and cheapo vampire teeth? By 1979 he had established himself as a prolific director in both porn and erotic vampire cinema, and Fascination would seem like a collision of the two at times with less overt emphasis on the latter than his earlier works. In the middle of rural France there’s a castle where two attractive females - Eva and Elisabeth -waste away their days, waiting for some initially unspecified event. Elsewhere a group of bandits have robbed some poor sod carrying a fortune in gold and are about to make off with it when an argument splits their group and Marc makes off with the bag having betrayed his fellow criminals. After a struggle with his hostage he is located in the woodland by the other thieves and is forced to take refuge in the aforementioned castle, where he meets the two girls. Threatening them with his, er, gun the women appear to be distinctly unperturbed by his aggressive attitude towards them. Meanwhile the other bandits are keeping a safe distance from the castle effectively preventing Marc from leaving while waiting for their chance to launch an attack. It becomes apparent that Eva and Elisabeth are awaiting the arrival of a posse of bourgeois females in the middle of the night for some sort of ritualistic meeting. Unable to leave due to the gun-toting bandits outside and now unwilling to leave anyway due to a notable degree of sexual enticement from Eva, Marc is destined to be swept up in the strange activities that are about to take place in the castle.

While Rollin’s commonly used theme of vampirism is evident in this film it’s not visible to the point of fanged, blood-sucking people being present as it was in movies such as Le Frisson Des Vampires. This serves to provide both an interesting new slant to his favourite subject as well as removing one of the things that newcomers may have previously found hard to digest: very odd looking vampires. It takes a subtle backseat as Rollin crafts a surreal world in which Marc becomes enslaved, notably signified by the meteorological shift that takes place as he gets closer to the castle - the area is surrounded by mist. Eva and Elisabeth are gorgeous young women and obviously reflective of his regular theme of two female companions as protagonists that invades almost every Rollin movie. That Marc is trapped in a house with these two indicates that Rollin is purely recreating his own sexual fantasies on film and I think it’s this exhuming of the creator’s own omnipresent dreams that helps lend the work its share of artistic authenticity - beneath the surface there’s a tangible beauty here that’s difficult to fake. Eva is of course played by Brigitte Lahaie, star of a large number of porn flicks during the seventies including a few of Rollin’s, and her range of ‘skills’ is utilised in Fascination wherever possible without descending the story into outright hardcore. Her relationship with Elisabeth is slightly more complex than what we see on screen, this being hinted at when the latter displays a certain amount of suicidal jealousy upon Eva’s demonstration of sexual affection for Marc, though who she’s actually jealous of is quite ambiguous - perhaps it’s anybody when attention is not being directed at her. Marc himself is essentially a fool, a man who’s devoted himself to crime even to the point of stealing from other criminals and he wades into the girls’ world with a sense of arrogance that will eventually be stripped, and as such there is also an air of morality about the story that is flimsy but lurking around nonetheless. Possibly more important than individual characters though is the surreal ambience that surrounds the situation that they find themselves in - it’s an odd world that has the boundaries between itself and reality blurred. Rollin’s landscape photography and exceptional use of locations here is, as ever, exemplary. Whether that’s a happy accident is for the viewer to decide I suppose. It’s also worth noting also that the haunting and doom-laden music used in this film is among the best used for any Rollin venture and aids the visual material in several significant scenes. The most suitable approach to Rollin’s work is to forget about cinematic convention, remove expectation of complete verisimilitude, and sit back to witness the strange events of a place that surely can’t exist. Fascination is actually a better starting point than many of his other films and one of his best all round.

Releasing the likes of Fascination on video cassette in the UK during the nineties was something that helped Redemption become a respected distributor of lesser seen genre material. Many of the flicks they unleashed on their niche audience were almost impossible to see at the time and they quickly became a favourite of those who could appreciate cinematic obscurities. Unfortunately they failed to grasp the possibilities of the digital era when DVD arrived and their disc releases were consequently difficult to admire with boundary-pushing companies like Blue Underground and Synapse appearing on the horizon. Fascination was their very first UK DVD some time near the format’s infancy so most issues can be forgiven considering DVD took a few years from conception to be perfected. The problem is that even years later their discs had hardly evolved and thus the only thing going for them was their obscure content - hardly an accolade in a new era.  Anyway, their release of Fascination was correctly letterboxed though without enhancement. It looked reasonably detailed with copious print damage and some washing out of colours. Audio was in the MPEG format, something that was adopted to a small extent at the birth of DVD but quickly became overshadowed and eventually snuffed out all but completely by the much more marketable Dolby Digital. It served its purpose and was at least in native French with functional subtitles for those of us whose grasp of continental tongue extends only to bon jour. Dark Side magazine later joined forces with Redemption to release the film on a double pack (limited to availability through the magazine) with another of Rollin’s greats, Requiem Pour un Vampire, though the claimed anamorphic enhancement provided no benefit due to the fact that it was from the same master.

Thankfully Stateside company Kino have teamed with Redemption to remaster this (along with several other of the director's movies) in high definition - image quality jumps significantly on the Blu-ray, with strengthened colour schemes and wonderfully naturalistic detail without being excessively sharp; indeed, on occasions there is an authentic haziness during certain sequences.  Running at 24 frames per second the accurately framed full HD picture, often an immersive joy to behold, is accompanied again by original language French (uncompressed two channel mono) with clear English subtitles as an option (no English language audio track is present).  Also present are two highly desirable softcore outtakes (with Lahaie) totalling around fifteen minutes and apparently shot if the film was required for export to more liberal territories, plus a twenty five minute documentary about Rollin that I originally saw broadcast on British TV surprisingly.  Finishing off this awesome package are the trailers to the five films initially released under Kino's Rollin series and a very attractive booklet (unfortunately the same as the one included with the other discs, but welcome nonetheless).  With this Blu-ray Disc, Jean Rollin's work looks and feels better than ever - this is the way this material was meant to be experienced, and is easier to appreciate with the respectful job that Kino have done.  If you're a Rollin fan, get this captivating film on Blu-ray immediately; if you're not, consider opening your mind and putting your toe in the inviting waters - you may find yourself jumping in completely.

Upcoming Jean Rollin Blu-rays

Kino Video are releasing a batch of Jean Rollin movies on Blu-ray over the next week in the US. Jean Rollin is one of those love or hate kind of directors, sort of in the same ballpark as Jess Franco to an extent, though possibly a little more consistent (which is not saying too much). From his early movies (the sixties onwards) Rollin mixed eroticism and vampirism in unique and idiosyncratic ways, creating microcosms that stood several yards away from anything most other film-makers were doing around the time or even since.  The films are easy for many to dislike, possibly coming across as a little amateurish or downright strange, but if you get into them there is much in way of Gothic sex-charged delight to be had.  Like many directors, he lost his way later on (mainly from the mid eighties onwards) but the legacy of his early work survives.

In the distant past, Redemption did UK fans (including myself) a great favour during the nineties when they unleashed a number of Rollin's movies on video cassette (and even video CD!).  Later on reasonable DVDs were issued, obviously improving on the old tapes but leaving something to be desired as the modern hi-def age approached (Requiem for a Vampire in particular was a bit of a mess).  Finally there is something to really celebrate!  The first five (of hopefully many more) that Kino are releasing are some of the director's best movies, each having been mastered in high definition with French and English language audio options, a duplicated booklet, and extras including interview material with the director.  They include (chronologically) The Nude Vampire, Shiver of the Vampire, Iron Rose, Lips of Blood, and Fascination.  All of these are absolutely essential if you have any appreciation for Jean Rollin, and I'll be picking all of them up as soon as my bank balance will permit it.  Kino's website for further info can be found here.