THE RAPE OF THE VAMPIRE
Blu-ray. Redemption.

Jean Rollin's debut feature is a strange, often confused affair that will probably leave most viewers baffled. It does, however, offer hints of where his remarkable career would go, and has much to fascinate within its confused whole.

Originating as a short film designed to play support to another feature, the film was eventually expanded to feature length, taking the form of a two part story – though part 2 is a more or less direct continuation of part 1. It's loosely plotted, but initially tells the story of a psychoanalyst who visits a chateau where for women live, believing themselves to be vampires. They've been convinced of this by superstitious villagers, who then descend on the chateau to stop the 'vampires' escaping.

As the film progresses, it gets stranger and stranger, what little coherent story there was falling away to a series of dream-like moments involving real vampires. Characters disappear and then reappear later with no real explanation, everyone seems to be in a trance-like state and the film's tenuous grasp on reality rapidly falls away.

It sounds a mess, and in many ways it is. But if you can adjust your mind to accept Rollin's free-form narrative and not worry about anything making sense, then there is much to enjoy here. While the film betrays the technical inexperience of all involved – the focus is often off, for one thing – it offers up a series of startlingly striking images, some haunting moments and an atmosphere of such complete weirdness that it becomes oddly compulsive. The film is closer to a series of artistic vignettes than a regular narrative story, and is as close to the scattershot unpredictability of a dream as any film you'll see.

Despite the crude English title, The Rape of the Vampire (Le Viol du Vampire sounds so much more elegant!) is not remotely exploitative – the nudity, while frequent, is restricted to boobs 'n' bums, and is entirely non-sexual, while the action scenes are a knowing pastiche of B-movies, serials and horror clichés, twisted and deconstructed to the point where they seem almost deliberately undramatic.

This is hardly the Rollin film to use to introduce new admirers, but for those already attuned to his unique style, it will be a fascinating, trippy experience, and one that shows his remarkable visuals could work just as well in black and white as in lurid colour.

Redemption's Blu-ray has the usual impressive extras – a fascinating documentary about the film, video interviews with Rollin and star Jean-Loup Philippe and – best of all – two early short films by the director. Les Amours Jaunes (1958) is a decent if ordinary student piece, set in Rollin's usual coastal location, but Les Pays Loin from 1965 is remarkable – two people find themselves somehow lost in a strange city where no-one speaks their language, and the 16 minute film follows their adventure. It mixes crime movie pastiche with a very Rollinesque sense of alienation and detachment, and makes you wonder what he might have made if not confined to the softcore horror world. Worthy of the price by itself, the film is a very welcome addition to this impressive package.

DAVID FLINT

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