| Janine Reynaud | ... | Lorna Green | |
| Jack Taylor | ... | William Francis Mulligan | |
| Adrian Hoven | ... | Ralf Drawes | |
| Howard Vernon | ... | Admiral Kapp (as Howard Varnon) | |
| Nathalie Nort | ... | Bella Olga | |
| Michel Lemoine | ... | Pierce | |
| Pier A. Caminnecci | ... | Hermann | |
| Américo Coimbra | ... | The crucified actor | |
| Lina De Wolf | |||
| Eva Brauner | |||
| rest of cast listed alphabetically: | |||
| Jesus Franco | ... | Writer (uncredited) | |
| Karl Heinz Mannchen | ... | Partyguest (uncredited) | |
| Daniel White | ... | Piano Player (uncredited) | |
Directed by | |||
| Jesus Franco | |||
Writing credits(in alphabetical order) | ||
| Pier A. Caminnecci | writer | |
Produced by | |||
| Pier A. Caminnecci | .... | associate producer | |
| Adrian Hoven | .... | producer | |
| Karl Heinz Mannchen | .... | executive producer | |
Original Music by | |||
| Friedrich Gulda | |||
| Jerry van Rooyen | |||
Cinematography by | |||
| Jorge Herrero | |||
| Franz Xaver Lederle | (as Franz Lederle) | ||
Film Editing by | |||
| Frizzi Schmidt | |||
Art Direction by | |||
| Peter H. Krause | |||
| Carlos Viudes | |||
Makeup Department | |||
| Irmgard Forster | .... | makeup artist | |
Production Management | |||
| Robert Gaffron | .... | production supervisor | |
| Karl Heinz Mannchen | .... | unit production manager | |
Sound Department | |||
| Hans-Dieter Schwarz | .... | sound | |
Camera and Electrical Department | |||
| Howard Vernon | .... | still photographer | |
Costume and Wardrobe Department | |||
| Karl Lagerfeld | .... | costume designer: Janine Reynaud | |
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| Full cast and crew | Company credits | External reviews |
| News articles | IMDb Drama section | IMDb West Germany section |
Whereas Felini is content to betray his films to almost coherent plot and the shameful act of playing his hand too early, Jess Franco smothers his visual media idiom with layers upon layers of fantasy and dream sequence. Not only does the main character, whom I refuse to give a name to, tip-toe through the film's haze in a daze of somnambulant wonder, but her steely stare and enigmatic dialogue can almost conjure up feelings of confusion. We are watching a film where the protagonist almost has no identity at all, so should we feel guilty for feeling that the film has no plot at all? I think Franco achieves his aim here, for Succubus is a barrage of buzzwords all done with smoke and mirrors. I was so impressed I almost kicked the television in through sheer jealousy.
His artistic vision is such that his contempt for his audience is to be commended. Why else would he insert a party sequence where a dwarf and a transvestite dance, a girl asks for her doll back, and a man in a suit reads beat poetry? It was only logical that everyone started acting like dogs, for here Franco is showing us that we are all animals at heart. In a show of unison, I was foaming at the mouth at this sequence, like a rabid dog. In this magical scene, Franco relentlessly throws pretension in our faces until we are left with nothing but animalistic feelings of rage and hate.
The scene with the dummies is also of note. Here, Franco is clearly, blatantly showing us that we, that is those who paid money for Succubus, are the real dummies. The performance art, where people are chained to posts, is also an obvious metaphor. Franco is the one holding the knife (representing this film), and we, the audience, are the ones tied to the posts, helpless, enduring the torture. Truly, this man cannot but stand head and shoulders above his contemporaries.
I may be beneath such a visionary, because I don't quite understand the technique Franco employs to actually stretch time within a film. The back of the DVD said this film was about 72 minutes long, but somehow, probably because I was lost in such a fantasy world before me, this film seemed to last twice that length. Franco is so good at his art that even time cannot withstand his power.
Succubus doesn't quite reach the heights of White Cannibal Queen (amazing parable of man's fight against technological progress why else would the jungle be so obviously set in a park), or The Devil Hunter (words fail me with this one the struggle of the African man against the white invader If you don't get that by Al Cliver fighting a naked, circumcised man then you simply aren't watching), but I think here, by riddling the dialogue with pop culture references, Franco truly makes a film that is beyond criticism.
I give this film a one. Franco has no need for ratings. His films are beyond ratings. And what's beyond the beyond? Nothing. Therefore: Jess Franco's films should get ratings of 0.