"From now on I hope I never dream those stupid things again." Lina Romay plays Moira, who is in the midst of estranging herself from her husband Cyrus (a truly dreadful, one-note performance from Robert King). Added to that, she is regularly visited by the bloody, dishevelled spirit of her father, Frankenstein. Dubbed in a thick, almost impenetrable Spanish accent (possibly by Franco himself), he instructs his daughter (the timeline of this project is in a world of its own if we are to believe he is the character from Mary Shelley's novel) to revive his creation, named Goddess.
That Goddess (Michelle Bauer) is a nymphomaniac is no great surprise, but she is also a very possessive one. The insatiable, cocaine-addled swinger next door has a plethora of lovers too, and they all fancy middle-aged Moira (whether she likes it or not), which enrages Goddess. They enter into a sadomasochistic relationship of punishment and counter-punishment, with the creature wearing nothing but the trade-mark of many Frankenstein Creations: big boots. Shiny ones.
Written, produced and directed by Jess Franco for One Shot Productions, this is shot entirely on video which, along with the inherent special effects that medium provides, somehow manages to date this production far more than anything Franco produced in the 1970s. The soundtrack ranges from an effective, synthesised funereal rhythm to much-repeated rock music – provided by the band (The Ubangis) Moira plays to herself ad nauseam.
And yet amongst the atrocious film and sound quality, the often incomprehensible Spanish/English which scuppers performances (especially that of Romay, who is otherwise as wonderful and uninhibited as ever) there is something compelling. Amateur home-made film-making this maybe, but Franco offers a genuine nightmare quality to all the disjointed moments and the ham-fisted (!) eroticism. Goddess explains, through a modulated voice, her heart is full of love (ie: sex) but her mind is full of hate. A definite contradictory creation, and an inner turmoil it is easy to sympathise with, especially when conveyed by Bauer's powerful performance.
As I see it, Franco was, by this time in his career, as far from populist film-making as he had ever been, and fulfilled by increasingly micro-budgeted but entirely personal projects such as this. Kudos to him for travelling down this road, and to wife, actress and film-editor Romay for remaining loyal and adding her talent to his vision.
That Goddess (Michelle Bauer) is a nymphomaniac is no great surprise, but she is also a very possessive one. The insatiable, cocaine-addled swinger next door has a plethora of lovers too, and they all fancy middle-aged Moira (whether she likes it or not), which enrages Goddess. They enter into a sadomasochistic relationship of punishment and counter-punishment, with the creature wearing nothing but the trade-mark of many Frankenstein Creations: big boots. Shiny ones.
Written, produced and directed by Jess Franco for One Shot Productions, this is shot entirely on video which, along with the inherent special effects that medium provides, somehow manages to date this production far more than anything Franco produced in the 1970s. The soundtrack ranges from an effective, synthesised funereal rhythm to much-repeated rock music – provided by the band (The Ubangis) Moira plays to herself ad nauseam.
And yet amongst the atrocious film and sound quality, the often incomprehensible Spanish/English which scuppers performances (especially that of Romay, who is otherwise as wonderful and uninhibited as ever) there is something compelling. Amateur home-made film-making this maybe, but Franco offers a genuine nightmare quality to all the disjointed moments and the ham-fisted (!) eroticism. Goddess explains, through a modulated voice, her heart is full of love (ie: sex) but her mind is full of hate. A definite contradictory creation, and an inner turmoil it is easy to sympathise with, especially when conveyed by Bauer's powerful performance.
As I see it, Franco was, by this time in his career, as far from populist film-making as he had ever been, and fulfilled by increasingly micro-budgeted but entirely personal projects such as this. Kudos to him for travelling down this road, and to wife, actress and film-editor Romay for remaining loyal and adding her talent to his vision.