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| Venus in Furs (1969) |
Ahmed, a millionaire playboy.
An art dealer named Kapp.
Olga, a fashion
photographer.
Her name was Wanda
Reed.
I really dug that
chick.
...the Riviera Greek Island
Yachting Club Crowd. And I wasn’t in her league. But I wanted to be. And it was
bugging the life out of me.
Man, it was a wild
scene. But if they wanted to go that route, it was their bag.
The narrative dialogue
from our hero is a fun bit of late 60s era slang that I got a good kick out of.
I like to use it when I write my own shit from time to time.
Getting to the goods, for a moment, Venus in Furs (1969) sets
up the basic sexual deviancy, depravity, sadism, and psychopathy that exist
within the nouveau riche of Jess Franco’s films. You can see a play on
torture and sexual sadism (so very Marquis de Sade) watched by a crowd of
onlookers from the wealth and privilege side of the tracks in Jess’ Exorcism. Again in an early
surrealistic film, Succubus, where a
crowd of wealthy beatniks take in a stage performance where a sadist's torture on
a woman and man takes place, applause greeting the performance afterward. Ahmed, pulls his knife, takes a nice stab, and suckles some of Wanda’s
blood. Olga had a bull whip handy and, after her and Kapp tore off Wanda’s
dress, took to lashing her bare back and chest. Kapp seems more content on
taking in the whole scene, getting to rip Wanda’s clothes was perhaps the most
enjoyable part of his time during their rape and murder of this young beauty
with an allure that captured Jimmy Logan (James Darren; I remember when I first
watched this and shouted in my mind, “Hey, that’s one of the scientists in The
Time Tunnel!”) the moment he first saw her, and then later washing up on the
beach. I like that the film sets this off from the point of view of Jimmy who
is totally looking back at what has happened, and this indicates that he’s
never been the same since he first laid eyes on Wanda for the first time.
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