Blood and Roses

                                 Flowers always fade when a vampire touches them.

I'll go ahead and get this out of the way. I though Blood and Roses was to be what it reputation suggests: that it is the first lesbian vampire film. Far from it. In actuality, the American VHS version I watched, the spirit of Milarca, an old Karnstein not killed by the vampire raids in the 1700s, takes over the body of a beautiful childhood friend of the Count Leopoldo Karnstein (the handsome, debonair Mel Ferrer, who is a definite charmer and looks the part of a modern aristocrat), her name Carmilla (the goddess, Annette Vadim), eyeing him as a potential conquest. Leopoldo is to marry the lovely Georgia (Elsa Martinelli).

Narrated by Milarca (an interesting touch, I think was done through American distribution to make it more accessible to audiences in the United States and other English-speaking countries), who emphasizes her goals and intentions, we realize--unlike others--that Carmilla no longer exists, having found accidentally Milarca's crypt, hidden in the old Karnstein abbey to be the victim of a fireworks display later during a masquerade ball thrown by Leopoldo, and immediately possessed by the vampire's spirit. So the rest of the film has Milarca setting her sights on attaining the love of Leopoldo, through whatever means necessary.

The film also details how Leopoldo and Carmilla's life-long relationship comes under psychological, emotional attack because of the new woman in his life, fiance Georgia. We see how both Carmilla and Milarca are unable to hold inside their discontent in regards to losing Leopoldo to Georgia...the film offers a unique twist where Milarca sees another way of getting her man. The vampire bite and the fading of the red rose are effectively used as story-telling techniques depicting Milarca's possession, her presence in others she has invaded.

Annette Vadim is the kind of beauty that can captivate even if there's not a great deal of activity in the plot. For instance, she can just move steadily out of frame, at a distance, towards us (such as when a member of the hired help sees her in the Milarca white dress, considering her a phantom), and I watch without blinking. Her character has a melancholy because Leopoldo loves another, the longing for him is obvious. Even he knows: there's a scene where he lies her down on her bed, pecks a few kisses on her face and neck, even gently foreheading her skin as if to say that while he has love for Georgia, thereis an affection for Carmilla.

But, director Vadim doesn't completely shy away from the vampirism aspect often associated with the Karnstein story: a peasant girl who works as hired help for the Count is a victim of Milarca, as is Georgia. The ending has two of my favorite moments in the film: Milarca, using Carmilla, sees a small spit of blood on Georgia's lower lip, giving her a kiss as to take it for sustenance, and then later closes in on a sleeping Georgia as to give the vampire kiss with designs on taking a new host so she can have Leopoldo for herself. With an operatic score from Jean Prodromidès and the lush enviorns of Italy, there's an elegance that Blood and Roses offers, but I'm just not sure this is the kind of vampire story a large viewing public will embrace; a glacial pace (even at the running time of 74 minutes, the film is slow-moving) and not a lot of sex, nudity, or bloodletting normally associated with (and typically known for) this type of genre film.

 This wasn't the film I was expecting at all. I liked it, especially the fireworks igniting German explosions (set during the war) inside the Karnstein abbey during the ball and at the end providing the tragedy of the film, but my expectations were of more eroticism between Carmilla and Georgia, just going by the reputation, (...which, to tell the truth, I should have researched more, but alas...), and that did disappoint.