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This was my second Jess Franco film, one of his
earlier black-and-white thrillers; often considered among his very best.
Despite being an obviously low-budget production, the film actually
looks pretty slick for all that. This seems to have been an interesting
period for Franco: his films from this era are easily the most
accessible and readily enjoyable. Still, there are definite hints of
what was to come, even in this film where the accent is on a somewhat
disturbing use of violence but also on the seductiveness of (female)
sexuality.
The plot of the film is quite simple, if improbable, and Franco would
apparently borrow freely from its themes and images for many years
afterwards (SUCCUBUS [1967], VAMPYROS LESBOS and SHE KILLED IN ECSTASY
[both 197
). Jean-Claude Carriere contributed to the script and while the
film is closer in spirit to Franju than Bunuel, he manages a few
distinctively surreal touches – as when Irma Zimmer (Mabel Karr)
‘tames’ the rebellious Nadia/Miss Death (Estella Blain) by using a
whip and a chair, as if she were a wild circus animal; or the fistfight
at the climax which suddenly turns into a good old-fashioned
swashbuckling routine. As a director, Franco rises to the occasion with
any number of eerie and unusual compositions – though the film does
not entirely escape his trademark haphazard ‘style’. Other visual
assets here would have to be: the photography, which is smooth for a
change and satisfactorily ‘expressionistic’; and the production
design, which maintains a good balance between ‘old’ (Dr. Zimmer’s
castle and country-house) and ‘new’ (Dr. Z’s laboratory, full of
hilariously impractical gadgets, and the cabaret where Miss Death
performs her act). Daniel White’s music, while not exactly imposing,
provides the perfect underscoring for Franco’s wild romp.
The film features several memorable sequences, often involving
heart-pounding chases (Miss Death pursued in the empty theater by the
hypnotized criminal Bergen; Dr. Moroni’s fog-laden close encounter
with both Miss Death and Irma Zimmer before he is dispatched) or graphic
violence (Irma Zimmer’s botched ‘suicide’ which leaves her
facially scarred; Mrs. Moroni’s death, by having her head plunged
through a window-pane, ten years prior to Dario Argento’s DEEP RED
[1975]!; Dr. Vicas’ train seduction and eventual assassination at the
hands of Miss Death). Also notable, of course, is Miss Death’s weird
and kinky dance routine - complete with fetching outfit!
The cast was not made up of star names but they all acquit themselves
nicely, particularly Mabel Karr who is quite convincing – and even
demands pity – in her obsessive quest for revenge; Howard Vernon, the
epitome of sleek villainy, though his presence is all too brief; and,
above all, Estella Blain who is sumptuous throughout (aided a great
deal, of course, by her character’s all-important ‘wardrobe’).
The film contains several in-jokes and references to other films which
Franco may have admired and subsequently been influnced by: during Dr.
Zimmer’s first appearance, the phone rings and Irma says after
answering that it was Dr. Bresson calling that “un condamne` a` mort
s’est eschappe`” (a condemned man has escaped). It is an unexpected
and amusing nod towards Robert Bresson (certainly among France’s
finest film-makers ever and one of my personal favorites) and that which
is arguably his greatest film, more commonly known as A MAN ESCAPED
(1956). Furthermore, Louis Feuillade’s legendary seven-hour serial LES
VAMPIRES (1915-16) is homaged by naming the leading character Irma
(after that film’s most memorable character, Irma Vep, who frequently
sported sultry costumes herself) and Miss Death’s dancing at a
night-club recalls an early scene in Feuillade’s Silent serial as
well. Somehow I suspect that these references may be Carriere’s doing
(who could hardly fail to be aware of these two directors and their
movies, especially the latter’s which were highly regarded by the
Surrealist movement) rather than Franco’s, but I could be wrong.
Franju’s LES YEUX SANS VISAGE aka EYES WITHOUT A FACE (1959) – an
established influence on Franco’s THE AWFUL DR. ORLOFF (1961) – is
also referenced here in Irma’s facial decompositions (which recall the
ones suffered by Edith Scob in Franju’s film), while Irma’s killing
of the hitch-hiker and disposing of her body in the river is strikingly
similar to that film’s opening sequence. Of course, the laboratory
sequences in DR. Z are a loving nod towards the Universal monster films
of the Thirties.
When a film is as enjoyable as this one, its faults – thematic as well
as technical – are hardly worth criticizing, as these can often be
pinned down to budgetary/time constraints. So, now I’ll rush on to my
thoughts on the DVD proper: the film is presented in French (which is
what the actors are apparently mouthing) and it is a reasonably
effective track, giving the whole a distinctly ‘European’ feel. Both
the film’s OAR and its running time have been the subject of
controversy over the Internet these last few days. There are definite
traces of overscan here, for even the menu screens are visibly cramped.
The quality of the video and audio on this disc are excellent for the
most part; unfortunately, the film’s closing moments are marred by
excessive pops and crackles on the soundtrack (these are also present on
the English-dubbed version). The extras, while not plentiful, compliment
the film superbly; particularly of note are the 15-minute featurette on
Franco (giving a nice, if understandably skimpy, overview of his
career), the informative biographies and, of course, the ‘amusing’
Easter Egg – which shouldn’t be too hard to find now! I don’t
quite know what to say about the ‘extra’ scenes featured in the
“Stills Gallery” section: these could just as well have been
publicity shots, or perhaps were scrapped prior to release; it’s true
that the film runs for only 83 minutes when the ‘original’ Spanish
version was somewhere between 86 and 87 minutes long, but that could be
because the transfer was made in PAL mode (after all, Mondo Macabro is a
UK-based company).
This film has certainly whetted my appetite for more films from this
early phase of Franco’s career. It seems that the only ones that are
available on DVD are THE AWFUL DR. ORLOFF (unfortunately, I’ve already
missed watching the original Spanish-language version of this one –
which I understand to be considerably longer – twice so far!), THE
SADISTIC BARON VON KLAUS (1962) and DR. ORLOFF’S MONSTER (1964).
Though I recall opinions on the other two as being pretty mixed, I would
still like to know if they are cut as well?
I’m not quite sure which of the two Francos I prefer at this stage:
while THE DIABOLICAL DR. Z is certainly the more enjoyable (and
straightforward) one, EUGENIE…THE STORY OF HER JOURNEY INTO PERVERSION
(1969) is obviously the more profound – and thus mature and personal -
work. That said, they have both earned their well-deserved place in my
collection – and, at long last, the (negative) barriers surrounding
the Franco ‘myth’ have been dealt a blow, even if they are still a
LONG way from being struck down…though I don’t know if I’d REALLY
want to do that in the first place!
-- Reviewed by Mario and Roderick Gauci, copyright
2004
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DOCTOR Z
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