Lower Level (1992)

Kristine Peterson probably isn’t a name that is familiar to a number of genre fans however from 1988 to 1997 Peterson helmed a handful of films that should be of interest to genre fans. Peterson cut her teeth working as an assistant director or second unit director on low budget cult classics like Chopping Mall (1982), The Ladies Club (1986), Reform School Girls (1986) and even bigger budget Hollywood productions such as Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure (1989), A Nightmare on Elm Street 5: The Dream Child (1989) and Tremors (1990). In the late 80’s Peterson began directing her own films, the first of which was Deadly Dreams (1988), a psychological slasher with far greater ambitions than other films of its ilk. Peterson followed up Deadly Dreams with the Roger Corman backed erotic thriller Body Chemistry (1990), a film that probably isn’t going to be given any awards for “best original screenplay” but is nonetheless one of the best erotic thrillers to come out of the post-Fatal Attraction (1987) craze. Peterson’s career took some pretty interesting lefts, IE Critters 3 (1991) and Kickboxer 5 (1995), but its clear that Peterson was comfortable working in genre film, namely the horror, thriller and action genres and in 1992 she blended the three masterfully with Lower Level, a brilliant low key little B-thriller that despite its title, is at a higher level than most (pun intended) .

Architect Hillary White (Elizabeth Gracen) returns to her high-tech, high rise office building after her boyfriend Craig bails on their plans for a romantic night out together. Unbeknownst to Hillary, Sam (David Bradley) the night watchman at her building has been harboring an obsession with her for the longest time and has planned a special evening of his own for Hillary and himself. Hillary however doesn’t reciprocate his feelings which sends Sam over the edge and Hillary suddenly finds herself trapped inside her office building with a psychopath who controls the entire buildings securely system and every exit.

While there is certainly a direct to video/late night cable vibe to Lower Level, considering the talent involved it shouldn’t come as a surprise that the film achieves things similar films wouldn’t even think of attempting. With a dependable director like Peterson and the flawless casting of Gracen and Bradley the film succeeds in being escapist entertainment but also a film with more on its mind than what’s advertised. Although a third player re-enters the film about midway through, this is Gracen and Bradley’s show and both steal equal parts of it. Far from being the stereotypical damsel in distress, Gracen’s Hillary is no victim. She’s a fighter, and Gracen, along with being a knockout beauty, has the presence and personality to make Hillary’s strength convincing. A more than worth opponent to Bradley’s Sam. Perhaps best known for his martial arts skills, Bradley can act and much like Hillary not being a standard genre film victim, Sam isn’t a stock ranting and raving maniac. “Sympathetic” isn’t the right word, but there is an obsessive method to Sam’s madness. Peterson doesn’t shy away from psychology, going the extra mile by acknowledging that it isn’t so much Hillary Sam is “in love” with but rather a fantasy version he’s slowly developed in his head having fetishized her for so long. Of course the other star of the film would be the office building with Peterson’s precise and slick direction wasting none of its spacious yet isolating potential including some pretty innovative moments involving elevator shafts.

After Lower Level Peterson would go on to direct only three more features, the action/caper thriller The Hard Truth (1994) which featured an impressive ensemble trio in the form of Michael Rooker, Lysette Anthony and Eric Roberts, the aforementioned, often maligned Kickboxer 5 and finally the music based drama Slaves to the Underground (1997). In between all that she also directed an episode of the CBS/USA series Silk Stalkings in 1992 as well as an episode of the Playboy series Eden in 1993. Lower Level however is easily her best and most accomplished work and although the films feature different subject matter, Lower Level would nonetheless make for great marathon viewing with Peterson’s Deadly Dreams and Body Chemistry as all three seem to occupy the same obsessive headspace. The film went direct to video and probably pay cable back in the day and the film actually did get a DVD release courtesy of First Look Features. Unfortunately that release seemed to go out of print almost as fast as the discs were pressed and as is so often the case goes for ridiculous prices. Thankfully the film is still easy to find on VHS even though it’d be a beautiful thing to see the film get a re-release on DVD as like the best of Peterson’s films Lower Level epitomizes the term “hidden gem” and deserves better than to be hidden in obscurity.

La ocasión (1978)

While José Ramón Larraz may be best remembered for his early British films which consisted of horror/thrillers like Whirlpool (1970), Deviation (1971), Scream and Die (1973), Symptoms (1974) and culminating with Vampyres (1974), Larraz’s Spanish period upon his return to Spain following the death of dictator Francisco Franco really showcased Larraz’s versatility as a director resulting in numerous films in a variety of genres and subgenres. Larraz gained a reputation in Spain for comedies such as Give Us Our Daily Sex (1979) which starred Laura Gemser, La momia nacional (The National Mummy, 1981) and Polvos mágicos (1983) which were quite successful but before that Larraz directed the marital drama El mirón (The Voyeur, 1977), the bizarre The Coming of Sin (1978) which is perhaps the best known film from this period, the spy film The Golden Lady (1979), and the erotic drama Madame Olga’s Pupils (1981). Of course Larraz never forgot about horror and films like La muerte incierta (1977) and Stigma (1980) proved just how valuable Larraz was to the genre along with the notorious satanic sexploitation classic Black Candles (1982). There were others that also proved Larraz could do it all but anyone who’s seen a handful of Larraz’s films can attest too, Larraz felt most at home with thrillers so it should come as no surprise that 1978’s La ocasión is one of the strongest films from Larraz’s Spanish period.

Husband and wife Pablo and Anna return to their beachfront home only to find it trashed after having been broken into. Pablo immediately suspects a group of young hippies that have been staying at the farm next door and is determined to get rid of them while Anna, who isn’t exactly trilled with the group also doesn’t approve of Pablo’s overly antagonistic attitude. Pablo becomes increasingly more annoyed with the group and their antics eventually reporting them to the police in hopes of finally being rid of them for good, that is until the leader of the group decides to pay him and Anna a visit.

Following films like the surreal and superstitious La muerte incierta and The Coming of Sin, La ocasión (The Occasion) really finds Larraz in his element. The film is very much in the vein of his early British films complete with shady characters, isolated locations and ambiguity, although there is an apparent lack of atmosphere which Larraz’s British films contained in abundance but in all fairness to the film this particular story doesn’t necessarily call for heavy atmospherics and what it lacks in atmosphere it more than makes up for in sheer moodiness. Larraz was always a slow story teller and La ocasión is certainly one of his more languid pieces. As always nothing is ever obvious in Larraz’s world and La ocasión is an interesting watch in that for the majority of the film there is never really any clear indication of where the film is heading. While Pablo’s issues with the hippies are obviously at the forefront, Larraz spends an equal, if not more amount of time examining Pablo and Anna’s marriage and Anna’s hints of sexual frustration as well as her slightly conflicted feelings regarding the hippies. By the time the film reaches its third act and becomes a three character piece Larraz finds a way to brilliantly blend every single plot point previously explored leading to some quintessential Larraz intensity and the direction Larraz eventually takes the film results in some fairly twisted sexual ambiguity in regards to Anna’s state of mind which Larraz wisely leaves a slightly unsettling mystery.

La ocasión has proven to be one of Larraz’s most elusive films. Hardly anything has been written about it save for one dismissive review on IMDb and its home video history seems to be a bit of a mystery as well. A quick image search will turn up a clamshell VHS cover for the film that was being sold on a Spanish auction site. The tape was released by one Constan Films, S.A. which also happened to be the films production company, yet its also been said that the film never received a VHS release, that the only available version of the film is sourced from a VHS recording of a Spanish television airing of the film. Interesting to say the least. Image searches will also reveal other items related to the film that were sold on the same auction site as that VHS tape such as the films poster, several sets of lobby cards and a press book. Over the past year or so the film did finally begin to pop up on several torrent sites but for those that still prefer to watch films the proper way there are discs out there for those that know where to look which are more than well worth seeking out and picking up as La ocasión is an intelligent and psychologically ambitious thriller and a film that’s easily recommendable to any serious Larraz fan.

Emma, puertas oscuras (1974)

One of the most fascinating things about watching the work of a cinematic auteur is witnessing the gradual creation of a self-contained cinematic universe. Not only is it fascinating but rewarding also when the films are viewed in chronological order, being able to see the beginning of both narrative and visual motifs, said motifs being expanded on and eventually perfected, noticing how one film relates to another, things of that nature. José Ramón Larraz was one such auteur who unquestionably created a highly personal universe. Larraz is a particularly interesting case in that with his first film Whirlpool (1970) he essentially laid all his calling cards out on the table, the isolated countryside setting, shady and hedonistic characters clearly hiding some form of ulterior motive, a prevailing sense of mystery and an approach to sexuality that was both visceral and psychological. What’s incredible is that even with Whirlpool being his first film Larraz clearly had a pretty good handle on all these things and would continue to expand upon them with subsequent films like Deviation (1971), Scream and Die (1973) and Symptoms (1974) , which for all intensive purposes is the culmination of everything Larraz began with Whirlpool. Somewhat lost in the shuffle of all those films is Emma, puertas oscuras, a transitional piece that found Larraz again expanding on his obsessions while also adding some new elements making for one curious little film.

Emma, a young woman is seriously injured in a hit an run accident. Silvia, a psychiatrist who witnessed the accident gets to know Emma at the hospital where Emma is recovering and the two became very close. So close in fact that Silvia offers to become Emma’s legal guardian and adopt her upon her release from the hospital as Emma has no known family. The accident however has changed Emma, leaving her with severe abandonment issues  causing her behavior to become erratic and violent and Silvia’s threats of sending Emma back to the hospital push Emma, razor in hand, over the edge and out into the country on her own.

Sandwiched in between Scream and Die and Symptoms, Emma, puertas oscuras (Emma, Dark Doors) is the logical bridge between the two films utilizing the slasher components of the former while flirting with the psychology of the later. While the film isn’t nearly as psychologically sophisticated as Symptoms its nonetheless a precursor in the way it explores Emma’s separation anxiety and her fear of abandonment which leads to violence. The majority of the first half of the film is made up of Larraz’s focusing on the loving yet somewhat contentious relationship between Emma and Silvia and as always with Larraz nothing is ever spelled out entirely making the nature of their relationship all the more fascinating. Although its not as overt as in Symptoms there are some clear hints of lesbianism and sexual tention between the two which Larraz perverts with the fact that Silvia is technically Emma’s adopted mother. Per usual Larraz tells the story in a leisurely fashion only to give a nice jolt by way of Emma’s nasty scissor and razor attacks and a bizarre dream sequence. Its during the third act where the films slasher side takes over and where it really begins to recall Scream and Die with Emma’s survival (predatory) instincts kicking in and Larraz brilliantly setting the action in an abandoned hotel. The perfect setting for Larraz’s trademark atmospherics to make an appearance which give these moments a classical, gothic feel, a technique Larraz would return to in future films like Stigma (1980) and Deadly Manor (1990).

One of the most interesting things about Emma, puertas oscuras is that it was a Spanish production made right in the middle of Larraz’s British period. The locations and vehicles seen all throughout the film make it clear that it was shot in England, at least the overwhelming majority of it was so its interesting that the film was funded with Spanish money especially considering Larraz having left Spain years before due to censorship. Another fun fact is that two years prior lead actress Susanna East (who by the way is excellent in the titular role of Emma) appeared in Ken Russell’s Savage Messiah (1972). Larraz fanatics will no doubt instantly recognize red headed actor Andrew Grant in the role of a hippy that makes the mistake of trying to take advantage of Emma late in the film. Grant of course played Tom, Karl Lanchbury’s accomplice in rape and voyeurism in Whirlpool. Emma, puertas oscuras is another one of Larraz’s films that remained elusive for some time having been (presumably) only released on Spanish VHS until it began to pop up online in recent years much like Larraz’s La muerte incierta (1977). English subtitled discs are now out there, sourced from that Spanish VHS tape and its a film that Larraz fans would benefit from seeing as its ultimately a film that would end up becoming a fitting piece in Larraz’s cinematic puzzle.

Sexus (1965)

AKA L'enfer dans la peau (Hell in the Skin)

Ever the belligerent type, it was José Bénazéraf’s contentious attitude that led him to directing films. Bénazéraf started in the film industry in the late 50’s as a producer but began to feel that he could direct a film that was better than the ones he was producing. Despite the fact that the majority of Bénazéraf’s filmography consists of adult features having turned his attention to the hardcore market in the 70’s, Bénazéraf’s early features all feature several signature stamps setting them apart from all other films being made at the time and are near impossible to mistake for the work of any other filmmaker. These films run the gamut from the moody eroticism of his debut feature L'éternité pour nous (Eternity for Us, 1963), trangressive gangster films like Le concerto de la peur (The Concert of Fear, 1963) and 1966’s Joë Caligula (banned by the French censors, a decision which is often cited as playing one of the biggest hands in Bénazéraf eventually transitioning into adult films), espionage thrillers like L'enfer sur la plage (Hell on the Beach, 1966) and surreal unclassifiable oddities like Le désirable et le sublime (The Desirable and the Sublime, 1970). Combining the best elements of both L'éternité pour nous and Le concerto de la peur, 1965’s Sexus is not only one of Bénazéraf’s masterpieces, but its a film that epitomizes Bénazéraf’s radical early black and white period.  

Virginie, the daughter of a wealthy man is kidnapped in broad daylight by Carl and Pierre, two gangsters who plan on demanding a ransom from her father in exchange for her safe return. Not long after arriving at their chateau safe house the situation becomes tense with the arrival of a third gangster, the sadistic Francois and things become even more combustible after Carl attempts to rape Virginie, causing dissention within the group while the entire time Virginie finds herself becoming more and more attracted to Pierre.

Although Bénazéraf had already proven to have great handle on similar material as evidenced in the aforementioned L'éternité pour nous and Le concerto de la peur, Sexus (La Nuit Plus La Longue, The Longest Night) is for all intensive purposes where Bénazéraf really perfected his style. Sexus is perhaps the “purest”, for lack of a better term, of Bénazéraf’s early films as what he had explored in previous films really came to a head in Sexus. A classic example of accomplishing a lot with a little, Sexus is as minimal as a film can get yet it is also one of Bénazéraf’s most fully realized films which isn’t always the easiest thing to pull off with a film that feels as random and improvised as this does. The randomness however works very much in the films favor and only serves to heighten the tension that Bénazéraf establishes almost immediately. Sexus is perhaps the moodiest of all of Bénazéraf’s films with Bénazéraf preferring to let the actors faces set the mood rather than dialogue. What also makes Sexus a special film is its overt weirdness with characters behaving inexplicably, the twisted relationship that develops between Virginie and Pierre, an out of the blue S&M strip show and a political discussion that has nothing to do with anything. The films oddness is further pronounced by the insane free jazz score by the brilliant Chet Baker which despite contrasting greatly with the films otherwise brooding quietness couldn’t have been more appropriate for a film like this.

One of the most notable things regarding Sexus is that it was picked up for American distribution by cult film legend Radley Metzger’s Audubon Films who were responsible for renaming the film “Sexus”. Metzger, an admirer of Bénazéraf’s stated in a 1973 Film Comment interview “He really has a feel for making an erotic movie. There's a degenerate streak in his films, which he lives. You literally can smell the film. It's a gift. And he has impeccable taste in choosing his girls.” Nonetheless in the same interview Metzger admitted to cutting about 40 minutes of the film claiming “It was a style that might go today, but it seemed very slow then. We were trying to give our audience a little more commercial entertainment, so I compressed the thing, took out a lot of the pauses.” Another important thing about the film is it happens to currently be the only Bénazéraf film to have an official uncut DVD in release in North America courtesy of Video Dimensions. The DVD features two short films as extra’s, Paris Eyefuls (1958) and Strip (1965) both dealing appropriately enough with strippers. Though neither were directed by Bénazéraf they make for an interesting watches. Needless to say the DVD is a must have as Sexus is a pivotal film and required viewing for anyone interested in Bénazéraf and would make for a perfect starting place for newcomers.

Two Orphan Vampires (1997)

Jean Rollin may have made a name for himself with his highly personal take on vampires in the early to mid 70’s with films like The Rape of the Vampire (1968), The Nude Vampire (1970), The Shiver of the Vampires (1970), Requiem for a Vampire (1971) and Lips of Blood (1975) so its interesting that Rollin took an extended break from vampires after having been incensed over Lips of Blood having been meddled with and edited into an adult feature titled Suck Me Vampire. Following Lips of Blood, Rollin helmed a slew of unique films in various subgenres ranging from the slightly vampiric Fascination (1979), zombies in The Grapes of Death (1978) and The Living Dead Girl (1982), the cold, Cronenbergian Night of the Hunted (1980) and The Escapees (1981). Rollin was also a prolific writer and in the mid-1990’s began a series of five books revolving around the characters of Henriette and Louise, the two blind orphan vampires which would eventually lead to Rollin’s return to vampire films when he decided to adapt one of his own books to the screen resulting in Two Orphan Vampires the film. Despite the fact that the film was Rollin‘s first vampire film in 22 years, the film has been neglected somewhat since its release when compared to his earlier vampire films which is unfortunate as the film is one of Rollin’s purest and most poignant.

Henriette (Isabelle Teboul) and Louise (Alexandra Pic) are two blind orphans living in a church owned orphanage. What the nuns who oversee the orphanage are completely oblivious too is the fact that once night falls Henriette and Louise’s sight is restored and along with it comes a taste for blood. The two eventually leave the orphanage after being adopted by a doctor who hopes to one day cure their blindness. Once out of the orphanage, Henriette and Louise’s bloodthirst as well as their penchant for troublemaking grows and the duo’s nightly adventures become more violent and dangerous as they encounter various other creatures of the night.  

Two Orphan Vampires (Les deux orphelines vampires) is an interesting film in the sense that it essentially sees Rollin taking the style of his 70’s vampire films and transporting it into the 90’s, the main difference being the downscaling of the eroticism often found in his 70’s works. Setting that aside Two Orphan Vampires is still unquestionably a Rollin film. The pacing this time around is a little more languid even by Rollin standards and yet never once does the film become boring. In fact the leisurely pace couldn’t have been more suitable for the random nature of the film and the orphans surreal run-in’s with other fantastic creatures like a hunted she-wolf, a lonely, mournful ghoul and most memorably, the “midnight lady”, a powerful vampire-like creature sporting large bat wings, just one of many quintessentially Rollin visuals seen throughout the film and oftentimes with the screen saturated in blue as it being the color the orphans see in. The film is also one of Rollin’s most satisfying when it comes to his usual devise of having a film centered around two females with Henriette and Louise being two of the most fully realized of Rollin’s reoccurring “two girls” motif, thanks in no small part to the fantastic performances of Teboul and Pic. Its never revealed just what the relationship between Henriette and Louise is and it didn’t need to be, their sisterly devotion and beautifully poetic exchanges of dialogue is both convincing and touching ultimately making the film all the more powerful.

During this period Rollin wasn’t in the best of shape suffering from kidney disease which forced him to undergo dialysis treatments which prevented him from traveling to shoot the scenes taking place in New York City which were handled by assistant director Jean-Noël Delamarre. Another mishap taking place on the set involved Véronique Djaouti, the “midnight lady” who also doubled as the stills photographer for the film. While they may not look it on screen, the bat wings her character wore were so heavy that during filming for one of her scenes she cracked two vertebrae, although she soldiered on through the entire scene. On another somewhat negative front, composer Philippe D'Aram doesn’t look back on his soundtrack for the film too fondly referring to it as a “demo” rather than a finished film score due to the films miniscule budget which is a shame as the music is one of the films strongest attributes. Two Orphan Vampires might not be as highly regarded as Rollin’s 70’s vampire films but in the grand scheme of things it is undoubtedly one of Rollin’s most important films as not only did it mark his return to the subgenre where he found his style but in true Rollin fashion the film is a journey into the fantastique featuring two of his finest protagonists making it a film that lingers in the mind long after its over.

Paula-Paula (2010)

Jess Franco’s name may be synonymous with many things to both fans and detractors alike but of the most crucial and defining aspects regarding Franco’s career was his adamant belief in artistic freedom. Not just simply freedom from censorship although that was certainly critical, but the freedom to film any idea without compromise or pandering to any group. Franco knew the importance of having final cut probably better than any other director after having his films meddled with by producers and distributors over the years and having multiple versions of his films exist. Regardless of the fact that Franco’s later period digital films are some of if not the most unpopular films he ever made, the advent of digital video technology not only made the process of filmmaking easier but Franco was finally given the complete creative control he always strived for and despite the fact that there were still certain cases of a film getting two different versions released, the films from this digital period represent Franco at his most pure with no filters. Perhaps no film of Franco’s better represents this freedom better than 2010’s Paula-Paula. Shot almost entirely in Franco and Lina Romay’s own apartment, Paula-Paula is easily Franco’s most experimental, inaccessible and alienating film and its also a film that would eventually mark the end of an era as it sadly features the final screen appearance of Lina Romay.

Paula (Carmen Montes), an exotic nightclub performer is arrested after the murder of her lover and fellow nightclub performer who also happens to be named Paula (Paula Davis). After being questioned by detective Alma Pereira (Lina), Paula is left on her own and begins to recount in her head the events that led her to where she is now, although in her delirious mental state Paula’s memory quickly grows increasingly surreal and twisted with the line between truth and fantasy becoming more and more blurry.

There seems to be two schools of though when it comes to Paula-Paula, that the film is either a hallucinatory glimpse into a disturbed psyche or Franco simply messing around with a digital camera for about 67 minutes. In all actuality, its a bit of both. Paula-Paula represents Franco at his most abstract, setting aside narrative almost immediately in favor of letting the visual take over. Franco claimed the film was inspired by Robert Louis Stevenson’s Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde which actually makes sense in context yet this is a film where narrative only begins to matter after the film has ended. Its really a fascinating way of telling a story, or rather not telling a story, at least during the course of the actual film. Again, Franco shot the majority of the film in his own apartment and in some ways the film could be considered a full length version of a psychedelic nightclub performance seen in so many of Franco’s films set to a brilliant jazz soundtrack. The film was scored using recordings by Friedrich Gulda who of course composed the music for Franco’s Succubus (1967). Franco was given a CD of recordings by Gulda’s estate and conceived  the film around the music. “Free jazz filmmaking” so to speak, a label which becomes even more accurate when considering the films excessive visuals with Franco constantly digitally altering and distorting the imagery which recalls the digital experimentation seen in films like Vampire Blues (1999) and Vampire Junction (2001).

Franco made clear his mentality behind the film during the three interview segments featured on Intervision’s DVD. The first segment is a simple introduction for the film but the second and third are where it really gets interesting. The second interview in particular as it features Franco giving his opinions at the time on contemporary filmmaking and its really inspiring to hear Franco praise the younger generation of enthusiastic filmmakers who are doing it for the love of cinema just as he did. The third segment is Franco discussing Paula-Paula and again, its inspiring just to listen to his excitement over the film. Franco praises the cast especially Carmen Montes and rightfully so as Montes was one of Franco’s greatest discoveries during his later period and proved herself more than worthy to follow in the footsteps of the likes of Lina and Soledad Miranda. Franco even goes so far as to claim that Paula-Paula is his strangest film! In a sense its hard to argue with the man. Paula-Paula isn’t the type of film that’s going to bring a Franco detractor over to the other side and it has the potential to drive away even those who defended Franco’s One Shot films. It really doesn't matter though as the spirit  in which it was made and the fact that it was Lina’s last film ultimately make Paula-Paula one of Franco’s most important films.

Vampire Junction (2001)

The weird west subgenre is one of the most fascinating in fantastic fiction. While the term “weird west” is a blanket term that can be used to describe works that blend westerns with various other fantastic genres, it’s the horror genre that makes the perfect tag-team partner for westerns. The mythology of the American old west with its ghost towns, mysterious nomadic drifters, things of that nature along with the consuming nature of the frontier landscapes are tailor made for horror, and one facet of the horror genre that works particularly well within a western environment is vampires. In film the most famous example would of course be Kathryn Bigelow’s brilliant Near Dark (1987), a film which set a new standard for not just horror/western hybrids but for vampire films in general. John Carpenter also masterfully fused vampires and westerns together with Vampires (1998) and Carpenter has admitted that Vampires was his excuse to finally do a western. No stranger to westerns having directed one of his own, Jaguar (1963), Jess Franco made his entrance into the weird vampire west during his divisive days with One Shot Productions. The resulting film was 2001’s Vampire Junction, a film that is so utterly bewildering not only is it unlike any other vampire western to come before or after it but it also achieves something astonishing by being of the oddest films in Franco’s entire oeuvre.  

Upon arriving in a small southwestern town affectionately refereed to as “Shit City” attempting to interview a famous doctor, journalist Alice Brown (Lina Romay) is immediately taken aback by the fact that the town seems to be almost entirely abandoned. After finally meeting the doctor, she becomes even more perplexed by his odd behavior, as well as the odd behavior of the few locals she encounters. Not long after settling in, Alice begins to have strange dreams, the only constant being the appearance of two mysterious vampire women. Alice’s dreams soon cross over into realty as she discovers that the town has been overtaken by vampires who intend to add Alice to their ranks.

Vampire Junction is a perfect example of the idea of Franco’s films existing within their own universe. The concepts of time and space are completely alien to a film like Vampire Junction. In fact the entire film seems to be taking place outside of time in an alternate dimension in that “Shit City” seems to be stuck in the old west, yet modern technology such as cell phones and lap tops are featured prominently throughout the film along with characters dressed in old west attire driving modern cars. Its an interesting clash of visual styles and neither one cancels out the other, in fact it only adds to the feeling of “Shit City” being some kind of netherworld of sorts trapped in between time periods. The pink punk rock wig, a mainstay of Franco’s One Shot days, worn by one of the two vampire women is also quite the sight when seen in an old west styled town. While nowhere near as visually excessive as Vampire Blues (1999), Vampire Junction does at times see Franco continue to experiment with filters and image distortions and the digital look of the film has a certain charm to it and actually works in the films favor by piling on to the surreality especially whenever the vampire women are on screen. It also has to be pointed out that this film does yet again feature Spanish actors speaking heavily accented English although its never completely unintelligible, Lina does especially well and turns in a good performance as well.

For some reason Vampire Junction was first released in the States by Sub Rosa in an edited 84 minute version on VHS. It wasn’t until 2004 when they finally released the 97 minute uncut version on DVD which featured a memorable and entertaining segment featuring Linnea Quigley giving a sneak peak at DVD’s for Mari-Cookie and the Killer Tarantula (1998) and Blind Target (2000). Actually that DVD can still be found for decent prices which is amazing in itself considering how much some of the original DVD’s of Franco’s other One Shot films tend to go for ever since going out of print. Naturally Sub Rosa also released the film as part of the “Vampire Lovers” double feature along with Vampire Blues and again in the “Deviant Lust” multi-film set along with Mari-Cookie and the Killer Tarantula, Red Silk (1999) and Blind Target. To say Vampire Junction is one of Franco’s most unpopular films would be a massive understatement. While Franco’s One Shot films tend to get thrown under the bus most of the time, reactions to this one have been particularly harsh with most being unable to look past the miniscule budget and limitations associated with such things, some even naming it Franco‘s worst film. Of course there are exceptions and the select few that can appreciate this period of Franco’s might want to take a chance on braving this junction’s waters.