JESS FRANCO : tout l'univers d'un cinéaste frappadingue

Cinéaste iconoclaste et imprévisible, Jess Franco est un artiste fascinant qui mérite un topic à lui tout seul. Pour parler de ses films ainsi que tout ce qui concerne son fabuleux univers!


Le monde de Jess Franco est une seule image!

X-312: FLIGHT TO HELL (X312 - Flug zur Hölle) de Jess Franco (1971)

Un charter en provenance du Chili et à destination de Rio de Janeiro s'écrase en pleine jungle amazonienne. Parmi les survivants se trouvent un journaliste, le steward, un dissident politique, un banquier et trois jeunes femmes, dont une ex-tenancière de night-club.
Il se trouve que le banquier a précipitemment quitté le Chili en emportant avec lui une mallette pleine de diamants d'une valeur de plusieurs millions de dollars. De quoi susciter bien des convoitises, notamment de la part de Paco, le steward, qui se rend compte rapidement que le banquier dissimule un véritable trésor.
La survie dans la jungle va donc consister, pour ces sept personnes, à s'unir afin de pouvoir survivre, tout en pensant à ses intérêts personnels, à savoir l'appât du gain, dès lors que chacun va savoir au bout du compte ce que renferme la fameuse mallette.
Sachant qu'en plus un groupe de guerilleros sévit dans les parages, et recherche activement le dissident politique, et que la jungle abrite également une tribu de chasseurs de têtes, le voyage s'annonce comme un périple insurmontable. Dans ces conditions extrêmes de survie, seul un petit groupe sera en mesure de regagner la civilisation.

On a connu Jess Franco beaucoup plus inspiré et complètement fou que ce film plutôt linéaire et classique dans son scénario. Les clichés pleuvent à cent à l'heure et il n'y a aucune démesure ou un grain de folie francoesque dans ce film plutôt assez banal. Il s'y passe néanmoins beaucoup de choses mais l'ennui pointe souvent le bout de son nez. Et ce n'est pas la musique plutôt raté de Bruno Nicolai qui va nous sortir de notre torpeur. Malgré tout, le film est à voir car c'est un long-métrage assez rare dans la filmographie de son auteur, le flm n'ayant jamais été exploité par chez nous. Et c'est toujours un plaisir d'y voir quelques tronches comme Paul Muller et Howard Vernon, même si ceux-ci sont ici réduits à des seconds rôles. On a même droit à Ewa Stromberg, somptueuse dans VAMPYROS LESBOS, qui se trouve ici plutôt transparente et ne nous fait guère profiter de son physique avantageux. C'est par contre la pulpeuse Esperanza Roy qui dévoile ses charmes dans quelques scènes. L'actrice de LA REVOLTE DES MORTS-VIVANTS de Amando De Ossorio y dévoile une présence physique digne des meilleures comédiennes chez Russ Meyer.

Au final, un Jess Franco mineur, plus "formaté" que d'habitude. Cheap mais fun tout de même. Une curiosité!

LE SADIQUE BARON VON KLAUS (La Mano De Uno Hombre Muerto) de Jess Franco (1962) - Crédité comme Jess Frank

Dans les Alpes autrichiennes, un petit village a connu une vague de crimes atroces commis par le Baron Von Klaus. Cinquante ans plus tard, le cauchemar recommence alors que l’on découvre les cadavres de deux jeunes femmes. Les soupçons se portent vers l’actuel baron...

LE SADIQUE BARON VON KLAUS possède les mêmes qualités et saveurs que L'HORRIBLE DOCTEUR ORLOFF, tournée la même année : superbe utilisation du Cinémascopre dans un noir/blanc de toute beauté, mise en scène soignée et musique jazzy raffinée. L'ambiance se rapproche des premiers giallos de Mario Bava, le dépassant même d'une courte période. Le réalisateur utilise à nouveau certains décors de son précédent film.

Si Jess Franco ne réitère pas le miracle cinématographique que fut ORLOFF, son SADIQUE BARON VON KLAUS est une belle exploration d'un univers gothique à souhait, porté par la présence monolithique d'un excellent Howard Vernon (que l'on connaîtra nettement plus excentrique par la suite!).

Le réalisateur développe aussi un érotisme qui, s'il paraît forcément chaste à nos yeux aujourd'hui, est assez audacieux car toujours teinté d'une pointe de sadomasochisme.

Si le film comporte quelques longueurs et un manque flagrant de suspense (on devine assez rapidement qui est le tueur), Franco récompense notre patience par un dernier acte superbe en tout point d'où se dégage un lyrisme morbide qui achève de donner à son spectacle une note macabre du meilleur goût.

La version française du film est néanmoins amputée de sa séquence de pré-générique où l'on voit une main gantée de noir tuer deux jeunes femmes faisant du camping au bord d'une rivière. Il manque également une scène sadomaso où Hugo Blanco torture Gogò Rojo en lui donnant des coups de fouets avant de la suspendre à un crochet et lui brûler la peau au fer rouge!

Le film ayant été tourné en espagnol, c'est assez dommage de ne pas pouvoir profiter de la version originale. Si le doublage est tout à fait correct, on regrette tout de même que la chanson dans le bar ait été traduite. Celle-ci est absolument abominable en VF, elle ne correspond absolument plus avec les mouvements de la bouche de l'actrice qui l'interprète.


Le DVD édité par Mad Movies présente le film uniquement en VF dans une copie tout à fait honorable. Malheureusement, celle-ci n'est pas une version "intégrale" qui, à ce jour, n'existe pas en DVD.

LES DIAMANTS DU KILIMANDJARO (La Tesoro De La Diosa Blanca) de Jess Franco (1983) - Crédité comme C. Plaut

Ouais, un film d'aventures dans la jungle africaine, une tribu dangereuse de cannibales, une expédition british pour retrouver une fille perdue lors d'un accident d'avion, une étrange déesse blonde... Voilà de quoi faire! Ben non... Autant le poster est alléchant, autant ce film d'exploitation est d'une fadeur confondante. Jess Franco assure le minimum syndical, à savoir un petit peu de nudité et de la violence bien terne. Tout ceci prête bien entendu plus à sourire qu'à crier au scandale. Le supposé décor où se situe l'action (en Afrique, donc) ressemble plus à un jardin botanique où l'on aurait placé des huttes pour indigènes. La faune sauvage est uniquement tiré de stock-shots volés à des documentaires animaliers et l'ensemble est monté de manière bien hasardeuse. Qui voudrait croire à une attaque de crocodile sur une demoiselle dénudée alors que les plans qui s'enchaînent alternent différentes tonalités de luminosité? Sans parler de la qualité granuleuse des images animalières comparé à celle du film. C'est risible.

Cette mixture pathétique de sexe, de cannibales et de violence n'apportera rien aux amateurs de films d'exploitation. Le film peut tout de même se flatter de posséder les anthropophages les plus lamentables de l'histoire du cinéma. Ils ne font strictement rien, si ce n'est parader avec un masque humain desséché sur leur propre visage. Et, en plus, pas de carnage humain et surtout pas de fiesta cannibale. C'est à se demander pourquoi il porte l'étiquette de mangeurs d'hommes. La violence du film se limitera à quelques morts ridicules dont deux égorgements qui ne se dérouleront même pas devant la caméra. On se consolera néanmoins avec un crash d'avion minable qui ressemble plus à l'explosion d'un pétard chinois que d'une véritable explosion digne de ce nom. Pour finir, les fameux diamants du titre ne sont rien d'autre qu'un maigre sac d'améthystes toutes pourries. Comme trésor, on a largement fait mieux! Il est donc clair que pour les amateurs de films d'exploitation se déroulant dans "l'enfer vert" il vaut encore mieux se tourner vers quelques productions cheap italiennes pour avoir un bon quota de spectacle déviant.

Dans LES DIAMANTS DU KILIMANDJARO, on ne pourra que se satisfaire de la nudité permanente de la mignonne Katja Bienert (une comédienne récurrente chez Franco) dans le rôle de la déesse blonde. Une grande performance où l'actrice passe son temps à écarquiller les yeux, assise sur son arbre. Agée de 17 ans à l'époque du tournage, sa fraîche poitrine dévoilée sans honte est un bon moyen de faire passer le temps.

C'était une production EUROCINE!

BLOOD OF FU MANCHU (The Blood Of Fu Manchu) de Jesus Franco (1968)

Christopher Lee dans le rôle d'un asiatique? Mais oui! Et crédible en plus. Cette petite bobine fauchée, pétrie d'aventures et d'espionnages digne d'un comic book désuet est adapté de l'univers de Sax Rohmer. Franco y rajoute sa touche de "film de prisons" et des femmes lègèrement vêtues. Le tout balancé dans un savoureux cocktail d'humour désuet, de crime incessants, de laboratoires clandestins cachés dans une jungle hostile... L'ensemble, très "carton-pâte" en rajoute dans l'absurdité ambiante. Un régal!

MACUMBA SEXUAL de Jesus Franco (1983)

La princesse Obongo, déesse de la Luxure, use de ses pouvoirs maléfiques pour envoûter un jeun couple de yuppies en villégiature. Ainsi, elle pourra par ce moyen commencer sa conquête du monde en compagnie des forces du Mal...

MACUMBA SEXUAL est une sorte de remake de VAMPYROS LESBOS. Il faut, bien entendu, ne pas s'attendre à une réussite égale à son chef-d'oeuvre mais le film comporte suffisamment d'éléments intéressants pour satisfaire les francophiles. On retiendra particulièrement une atmosphère qui navigue constamment entre rêve et réalité. Et aussi un beau duo de comédiennes : Lina Romay et surtout Ajita Wilson, transexuelle de renom! Parfaitement impudique, Lina Romay, portant une perruque blonde, se livre comme jamais... N'hésitant pas à payer de sa personne à travers de nombreuses séquences quasiment pornographiques où sa vulve est offerte aux zooms indiscrets de son réalisateur. Et Ajita Wilson est sublime dans de nombreuses séquences très visuelles, comme celle où elle se masturbe dans le désert avec une idole païenne taillée dans de l'ivoire; et aussi séquence magnifique où elle apparaît avec ses deux esclaves enchaînés. Il serait injuste de ne pas signaler la présence de Jess Franco dans un second rôle : celui d'un extravagant gardien d'hôtel un peu débile qui passe son temps à collectionner des poissons empaillés et à faire le voyeur auprès de sa clientèle féminine.

Avec pratiquement pas de dialogue, MACUMBA SEXUAL est plus une expérience visuelle et sensitive qu'un film traditionnel. Et quel plaisir de voir Franco retravailler sur ses obsessions qui reviennent sans cesse dans son oeuvre. Le réalisateur explore une quasi déstructuration de son scénario et filme des images qui sont directement tirées de rêveries sexuelles cauchemardesques. Les amateurs apprécieront, les autres baîlleront d'ennui et n'arriveront certainement au bout de ses 80 minutes qu'ils trouveront bien longues.

LUNE DE SANG (Die Säge Des Todes) de Jesus Franco (1981)

Aïe! Aïe! Aïe! En 1981, notre brave Jess Franco met son talent au service du slasher avec cette LUNE DE SANG adepte du "body count". Un mystérieux tueur qui décime une poignée d'étudiantes venu suivre des cours de langues dans une école espagnole.

Tous les poncifs du genre sont respectés à la "Franco Style" avec son lot de nudité gratuite et de violence bien graphique. Mais l'ensemble ne fonctionne pas. La faute à qui? Ben, un peu à tout le monde. "Whodunit" pitoyable, distribution affreuse, musique abominable et particulièrement insupportable... Ce ratage complet est carrément une anthologie à lui tout seul. Je suspecte Papy Jess d'avoir voulu foutre le bordel sur une production déjà chaotique à la base. Pour s'en persuader, il suffit d'écouter Jess dans les bonus. C'est assez effarant...et drôle en même temps!

Par contre, le film comporte quelques séquences gores assez réussies avec des effets spéciaux plutôt corrects bien qu'ils aient tout de même pas mal vieillit. On retiendra principalement la mort de la jeune femme avec une gigantesque scie circulaire. C'est la fameuse séquence à retenir du film, qui fut d'ailleurs largement coupé lors de sa sortie en salles aux USA.

THE SEXUAL STORY OF O (Historia Sexual De O) de Jesus Franco (1984)

Si le titre évoque un "classique" français de l'érotisme, cette variation de Jess Franco à plutôt tendance à avoir des relents sadiens qui le rapproche plus de son fameux EUGENIE avec Marie Liljedahl et Christopher Lee. THE SEXUAL STORY OF O représente quand même une approche beaucoup plus esthétique avec sa photographie autant soignée que vaporeuse... On pense parfois au travail de David Hamilton. Pour ce film, Franco s'accorde un casting très "frais" dans le sens où aucun de ses acteurs fétiches n'y apparaissent. Le film reste une de ses oeuvres érotiques les plus accomplies, dépassant de cent coudées le très ennuyeux HISTOIRE D'O de Just Jaeckin. Et le climax du film, mixage choquant de sadomasochisme et de torture transforme cette oeuvre essentiellement érotique en un bouquet final aussi bizarre qu'insoutenable. Une oeuvre majeure pour tout francophiles qui se respecte!

Un entretien avec Jesús Franco à lire absolument!

To know Jesús Franco in person is a mystery, surely the most difficult to disclose for the francomaniac. Uncle Jess greets you warmly, makes some jokes, and to every question he answers with a mix of half-blurred memories, learnt beforehand stories and vague remarks improvised right there on the spot; yet, at the same time, he studies the interviewer, eventually challenging you with his own questions. Soon one realizes that Franco doesn't like to talk about his own films, specially the 20 plus year old ones, preferring instead to talk about other people's films (he's a movie encyclopedia), or the ones he plans to make. And also about music, and that he knows even better than cinema. I cannot remember clearly why we started talking about Miss Death, but he was already talking up the storm by the time I took my tape recorder.


Jesús Franco: …[Serge] Silberman hired me to make Miss Death, but the original idea of the film was mine. These two, Silberman and [Michel] Safra, who produced some of [Luis] Buñuel films, used to work on two movies at the same time, alternating between who the executive producer was; sometimes one, sometimes the other. Money-wise, Cartas Boca Arriba [aka Attack Of The Robots] was more important, as it was more expensive, but Silberman liked Miss Death more.


Was La casa de las mujeres perdidas another Jean Claude Carrière's idea?
No, there's a confusion about this. I invented the story and sent it to Jean Claude for writing a treatment, but he didn't feel capable of doing it and sent it back. But it was not the exact story of the film, it was the same world, the same characters, but not the story.


Were you fond of Godard's Alphaville? Cartas Boca Arriba portrayed some similarities…
Of course! Godard's my favorite director ever. I've no problem admitting this. At least, not anymore.


And do you like everything he's made so far? He has changed a lot since then.
That's one the reasons I like him so much. I like open-minded, innovative people. His Histoire(s) du Cinema are fucking great, the Holy Bible of cinema.


You frequented the Paris Cinémathèque. Ever met Godard personally?
I did, but not in the Cinémathèque. I frequented the place to watch movies, not to chit-chat with anybody. Back then, there were the Capulade and the Café de Fleur, two cafés frequented by misfits and dissidents; that's where I met not only Godard, whom I consider the most important director of his generation, but also [Jean-Pierre] Melville, another very inventive man, along with some less significant guys. But, do you know that the first thing Silberman asked me to shoot was a film to be signed by Max Ophüls's son, Marcel? That cunning motherfucker knew Marcel was still very unskilled and expected me to make it for him, anonymously. 'Bollocks to that!', I told him. I was a beginner myself but I wasn't going to do such a thing, no way. That film ended up being Peau de Banane [aka Banana Peel], with Jean-Paul Belmondo and Jeanne Moreau.


I recently read an old interview where Truffaut spoke wonders about Berlanga, but said nothing good about Bardem.
Sure, Truffaut was politically correct, highly literate and progressive ideas but was not a man of the left, was half ... half baked or something. I always liked a lot more Godard. People use to stick them all in one basket but they had nothing to do with each other, either ideologically or cinematically.


Those were pretty intense times for you. From France you came back to Spain to work with Orson Welles, no less…
Yes. I've always been on good terms with many great people [laughs]. But, as I've said lots of times before and I'll keep saying in the future, it's Juan Antonio Bardem the one I owe the most. He gave me a job as his assistant back when I was a nobody. I didn't even have a permit to work, any shit like that. I think Juan Antonio liked me so much, above all, for political reasons. I was a Marxist, something that opened some doors for me and, of course, closed some others: there was no way the right-wing could stomach me.


That's when you began being known as a famous iconoclast.
No, that's when I began to be famous. Full stop. But, frankly, I prefer to be seen as an iconoclast than as a henchman of the regime.


Starting with your film Necronomicon, in 1968 you moved forward in your directorial style toward sheer abstraction. Were you possibly a bit fed up of orthodox cinema?
I never wanted to do orthodox cinema, but was either that or staying at home doing nothing. Initially Necronomicon was going to be a simpler thing than what it ended up being, but the Spanish censors read and reproved the script. Censorship was fucking inflexible back then. Those morons! "… there's a problem with page 7, you're not allowed to shoot the scene crossed out in red"… That shit. The German coproducer then suggested that I work on the film just with him and I said, yes, let's go ahead. He gave me total freedom to do whatever I wanted within the confines of the story, and that meant mental liberation for me.


Actually, We Are 18 Years Old is a less spoken about movie but it's structure was very modern for the times.
I think it still is. And you haven't seen it in it's entirety.


No?
No, you've seen a chopped off version. The original was 10 minutes longer and has never been shown. The justification of the character of the fugitive, Luis Pena, was cut. With the cuts they gave me he looks like a gangster and a bastard, and he was not. The guy asked the girls for help in good manners, because he has escaped from prison, and they face the dilemma of not knowing what to do. All three did very well. There they put scissors, and also the relationship between the angelic boyfriend of one of the girls, the youngest. And they also cut the final scene, which was more explicit, much clearer to the public.


It's amazing how that film summarizes nearly everything you've done. A 50 year career compressed into one movie: resolutive women, acid sense of humour, film noir, monsters, psychological drama, cartoonish characters…
Yeah, absolutely. It's a trailer of my whole career [laughs].


I suppose this wasn't planned at all…
Of course not, but those were the things I had in my head since I was 10. I've never shared the idea that movies must tell the story of two people who meet, that they're young, or old, have a house someplace, or have fallen out with their auntie or whoever… No; I've always refused that any of my movies will be like that. Actually, not one of them, and I've made more than 200, deals with such subjects. Back then all films were like that, and the public were puzzled by the fact that mine were not. Definitely not.


It had to hurt a lot of box office disaster that was TENEMOS 18 AÑOS ...
Rather than box-office flop I was hurt because of the doublecross against me. If the movie wasn't qualified as second B, which prevented the normal local premiere, it would have worked normally, the proof is that when I made the next, Labios rojos, that did not occur. I made Labios rojos as fast as I could because I was convinced that if a second film doesn't work well, things would go much harder for me. And it had a mediocre reception but it was fine, because this time I hadn't the entire board of bastards against me. The only one who defended me was Jose Luis Dibildos, which was my friend and liked the movie, he defended it as he could, but all the ministerial establishment was ready to fuck me, so it was helpless.


You've had to go through utter shit since day one thanks producers, censors, politicians… you name it. But, did you think anytime of calling it a day?
Quit cinema? Fuck no! Never. I've been in trouble plenty of times with motherfuckers of all sorts, but the fighting and the arguing just spurred me on to keep working. This ain't an easy world, the struggle is continuous, but I'm a fighter and never accepted shit from anyone. The proof is that none of my 200 plus films have been made with funds from the Ministry of Culture nor any other governmental organization. No one else in Spain can say the same. So what happens? Well, not applying for a subvention allows me to tell them to fuck off when this or that person says they don't like what I do. Look, I don't consider myself a genius. I know I've made some so-so movies. But I always made them the way I wanted to.


This ethos of yours, obviously came with some consequences.
Yes. I had no choice but to leave Spain, something I never regretted. I wasn't allowed to do my job. There were two films I was trying to do; years later I finally had the chance to make one of them, Obscene Mirror, but the truth is that it was much more virulent and cabrona back when I first planned it. And I fought tooth and nails for the other, Los Colgados, which was never made. They didn't allow me to. It was based on a novel by a writer named Bruno Traven, which I liked for his harsh, uncompromising style; my french coproducer, who was pretty useless most of the time, had obtained the legal permission to turn it into a movie, but it was a trap from the very beginning. The Ministry didn't say no at first, they just treated me paternalistically like I was a dumb kid. "Are you really willing to get yourself into this mess?", shit like that. But in the end it was approved. I had the French and a Spanish coproducers, a cast already assembled… Everything seemed to be on the right track. Then, few days before start shooting, as scheduled, I received an official notification telling me, in general terms, to stick the movie up my arse. The powers that be decided to forbid it. Out of sheer anger, I decided to make another movie right away, one that wouldn't bother those sonofabitches. "A vampire flick", as I told the producers. I took them along to see [Terence Fisher's] The Brides Of Dracula, they loved it, and that's how I made Gritos En La Noche.


Which was a big success.
Big as fuck. An awesome success. From then on I was only asked to make horror movies. That's why I say that not being allowed to film Los Colgados ultimately determined the rest of my career.


But why have you never retaken the film?
Because my aim is to make it as it is. It's a great, harsh story, one of Traven's most virulent. I'm adamant to make it regardless of my age. But ask any director, they'll all tell you about the many films they have in the closet, waiting. On a certain occasion Buñuel told me that the unexpected success of El Fantasma De La Libertad brought him the chance to work on 4 or 5 movies he had written years before and nobody ever backed him to make. It's absolutely necessary never to give up.


It's a question of knowing how to get around the producers, isn't it?
No, no. Producers don't know shit about nothing. They're fucking clueless and really don't care.


Who do you consider the most professional and capable you've ever worked with?
Samuel Arkoff and Roger Corman's team. Definitely. Those were people who really knew about cinema, how to sort out problems, see the potential of a proposed new project and give you enough space to work. Corman helped me immeasurably when I was making Venus In Furs and Justine de Sade, two films with high production values; both rank among the most expensive I've ever made. I struck up a good friendship with one of his assistants, Steve Previn, production manager and brother of [composer] André Previn. Steve was a really cool guy and gave me a hand plenty of times. Corman aside, the best producer I've ever had was Artur Brauner, whom I worked with on Vampyros Lesbos, She Killed In Ecstasy and many others. [Jess puts out his cigarette, which he has barely smoked, and fires up a new one; I'm off guard and Jess shoots out a question of his own.] Have you seen my latest movie, La Cripta De Las Mujeres Malditas?


Yes. I saw it in Paris, during the retrospective on your career held last year by the Cinémathèque.
And what's your take?
Very radical…

You mean it in a pejorative, or positive sense?
For me, it was an experiment in anti-cinema. The film charges against all the usual cinematic elements: script, photography, lightning…That's right. Fuck it all to hell.


And there are some mirrors set up to show that no filming crew is present. Not even you; like as if the film was being made spontaneously by its actual characters.
Aha, the same principle as in Sex Is Crazy, in which you can perfectly see the director reflected in the mirrors. That was tongue-in-cheek, while in this new movie is done very seriously, taking it to the extreme. It makes me happy you've understood my movie so well; most people don't, because it revolves around a pretty complex idea. Another movie of mine I think you would like is Vampire Junction. And my next one, which I'll make within five minutes or two months, I don't know. Not later than two months, though. I want to go over the top with it.


Even more than with La Cripta…?
Much more! It's about an erotic showgirl whose act is her making love to herself. Gradually she begins to fall in love with herself, gets jealous and eventually commits murder. On herself. Ain't it cool? I want to count with Fata Morgana and Carmes Montes to make it, though it's gonna be difficult 'cos they've fallen out with each other. I really like Fata Morgana; in some scenes she's as compelling as Soledad Miranda.


You've always had a knack for finding and directing actresses. Soledad, Lina Romay, Fata Morgana…Yes, just like George Cukor [laughs]. That's because I love women passionately. They're smarter, braver and more sensitive than us men. We are all a bunch of chickens and assholes. Lina and I started up together 30-something years ago and our life together has always been great.


Tell me your favourites
Soledad, Lina, Fata Morgana and perhaps Diana Lorys, who was superb in Nightmares Come At Night.


Let's talk a bit about the Marquis de Sade.
I discovered his works back when I was a child. His books were forbidden but on sale at the second-hand bookstores in
San Bernardo St .

Along the years you've adapted Sade's stories on several occasions. What did you find so attractive? I don't think it is sex.
Sex is for me the less interesting part; furthermore, he treated sex in a not-that-serious way. Sure, Sade would laugh his ass out if he could hear what people think about him. No, I loved the writing itself, that was much like [Octave] Mirbau's. His was a literature that was somehow excessive but also sharp and gutsy. The man was a genius. From among the films I've made based on one of his stories, my favorite one is Eugenie de Franval, with Soledad Miranda. The film depicts a very authentic and "sadian" relationship, and both Soledad and Paul Muller are splendid in their roles.


And what's you take on the adaptations made by others? Pasolini's Saló, fo example.
Utter crap. I loath Pasolini. There's some good moments here and there, but the general context of the movie… Screw it. And Cy Enfield's [De Sade]… What a pile of shit! I nearly finished it myself. I was asked to, but the project lacked any consistency from the very beginning. Quite strange, because Enfield was a good director; Zulu, for example, is a movie that I like. In my opinion, the only director who really got anywhere close was Klaus Kinski. Paganini which was an irregular and crazy film but had many superb things.


You always got along well with each other.
He was a truly brilliant guy! Very intelligent and with a great sense of humor. The problem was that people usually got off on the wrong foot with him. Those poor little Italian producers thought he was an asshole because on this or that occasion he fucked them up forcing them to stop halfway through the shooting of a movie. As an actor he wasn't always at his best, but he could be fabulous when he felt like it. Remember my adaptation of Justine? You cannot do it better than Klaus.


And what about that group of left-wing, intellectual erotic filmmakers of the era like José Benazeraf, Alain Robbe-Grillet…?
Come on, man! Don't put them in the same box! Benazeraf was what the Frenchs call a marchand de soupe, a fraud. He was technically capable but had no real talent. Robbe-Grillet, on the other hand, was pretty smart and a very, very good writer.


In your films there are things that sometimes recall Robbe-Grillet's.
I think so too. I've never tried to deny or get rid of the influences I received from different authors. Why should I? All great writers in history took from others. Shakespeare did. But that's not theft, it's influence, and if there's something of your own you can add, that's the icing on the cake.


The main difference is in that Robbe-Grillet's cinema was intellectual and pedantic but with a popular touch, while you make popular cinema with occasional intellectual or pedantic touches.
Well… I don't think my films are pedantic. But I'm certain that plenty of things have been said about me, but never that I'm a bonehead. I think that's evident. People can like or dislike my cinema, that depends on their tastes; but there's no stupidities in it. I'm gonna tell you a secret… I have some bloody great music by Friedrich Gulda to use in a film. He was the composer of the title music of Necronomicón, an absolutely wonderful pianist from Vienna who sadly passed away some years ago. Before he died he sent me a letter giving me the rights on some pieces of his music from the era on which he played the piano and conducted a weird symphonic jazz orchestra. I want to use part of this music in the film I was referring you about; a concertino in four parts. Wanna hear it?


Yeah, sure.
Linita! Could you play the Gulda? [Lina Romay shows up and starts searching through a huge pile of CD's loosely resting on some shelves; eventually she gives up, accuses Franco of being messy and leaves the room]. I also have an hour of music by Iron Maiden to use. They offered it to me when we met in London.


Whoa. How the heck did you met Iron Maiden?
[Laughs] Isn't it great? It was by sheer chance. Back then they were living in the outskirts of London. I got to know them through Derek Parsons, a wonderful film editor I worked with in my Count Dracula. We all got along very well. We talked a lot about music and, finally, they said that if I wanted to use that stuff of them, I was free to do it. Well, to be precise they gave away their songs to [producer] Tomás Lesoeur, initially for a planned remake of The
Awful Dr. Orloff.

By the way, I want to ask about the music library you used in the 70's especially on labels like Musique Pour L'Image, and composers such as Daniel Janin, Jean-Bernard Raiteux, Jean Claude Pierric ... how that worked?
It was music that I knew before, not that it was looking for a tent like to Benichou, who knew him as a guitarist as well.


Hey, what a voluminous script you have there: El Hombre Que No Estuvo Allí. What is it about?
What is it about? It's an abstraction, like Necronomicon. What was Necronomicon about? Lina and I finished this not long ago, still haven't shown it to anyone. It won't be an expensive film to do. For this type of productions I have an American producer, Kevin Collins, and a French one, Lesoeur. This script is among my weirdests, in the vein of Sex Is Crazy; I think Kevin will like it more than Lesoeur, who's a bit of a more primitive person.


I've read some of your scripts, such as the El Castillo Rojo and A través del espejo, which reads more than like a novel.
El Castillo Rojo was never finished. I started to shoot at the end of another movie but never could finish it. Partly was shot in a residential area of Calpe by Ricardo Boffil, a fucking great site. I played there the villain. And screenwriting as a novel is something I often do. Nobody has to tell me how I should write a screenplay, that pisses me off.


How much time do you usually spend writing a script? And how much do you like the process of writing?
It depends. This one, I made it in two months. Writing is something I really enjoy, but actually there's no process in cinema I don't like. This includes editing, which is essential work and maybe the hardest. I learnt a lot about editing from Orson Welles, a master in the matter who could perfectly spend three full years editing a film, changing this and that, never happy with the results. I used to be with him in the editing room, watching him work and picking up bits and pieces of film from the floor. That motherfucker was incredibly good: three days after having a sequence finished, perfect in my opinion, he would show it to me again rearranged to even better results. Orson said that movies are ductile. That's perfectly legit to stretch, cut, shrink the celluloid, to play with that physical item that is a piece of film.


Many of your movies show a clear influence of Welles, regarding lightning and framing.
His was a classic expressionist lightning, nothing new. Watch Campanadas A Medianoche [aka Chimes At Midnight], that's enough proof. Do you know that there are only incandescent lights on that movie? No more than some voltaic arches and screens. That's what gives the film a lightning so special.


In the El Hundimiento de la Casa Usher you did that kind of light.
Exactly, expressionist lighting. Also I got there I as an operator, and worked like a bastard, but overall the photo of my films is almost all mine.


Now, thanks to DVD's, we can really appreciate the photography of many your films.
In the past I've been treated very badly by the goddamn Spanish laboratories, the worst in the world. It didn't matter how good the original photography was, 'cos they would ruin it anyway. Not being the owner of the negatives, I've been fucked up by the labs plenty of times. But, yeah, that's right, DVD's are great. Have you seen the latest remastered version of M, by Fritz Lang? It's 100 times better than the version we knew. The lightning, the direction, the cast… Amazing. And [Coppola's] The Conversation. I saw it again on DVD and still is a superb film.


And the nowadays cinema, what do you see that you liked?
I really like the French, as Pitof, a mad genius. And I see many TV series, such as Jerry Bruckheimer's, which are all great.


What do you think of Michael Bay?
He is a modern Cecil B. DeMille, with awesome special effects and everything, but little interesting guts for me. I also like Tarantino, not Robert Rodriguez, who is nearly as good. Lynch is a director who I like sometimes but think he's very uneven. Sometimes he has awesome findings, sometimes goes like cheap. The same with Tinto Brass, at first I was interested, but he went useless.


I'm going to ask you for some lost titles or at least surrounded by some confusion. Lascivia, does it exist?
Yes, it was finished.


Sida, La Peste Del Siglo XX
We run out of money. Never finished.


Explain me all that mess with El Hombre que Mató a Menguele and Gente del Río…
I started to make a movie called River People (Gente del Río), in which a retired Mengele appeared, played by a great Howard Vernon. But the producer wanted to give more importance to the character of Mengele, but in the fashion of a tacky Andrea Bianchi's action flick. But I didn't want to ruin character, which is a sinister and sordid guy, you have to give him another treatment, not like the bitch in the corner. So I eventually quit the project. Gente del Rio was a film about fishermen who live in a village in Central America and know that Mengele is living there but no one dares to approach him. Then a group of fishermen try to hunt him. And the film is the struggle to get that bastard killed. And they succeed. It was based on people I met in Brazil, former Nazis living like gods in some big villas, and I wanted to show the clash between those nazis and the humble people of the river. But I didn't finish it, because it wasn't good enough and I didn't want that film to show up somewhere on video. Almost all the material I did with the Italians went that way, they fucked with me a thousand times, everything went wrong and that's why I've never admitted that as my work.


That was the same case as Justine Lady Lujuria, the Joe D'Amato recut?
No, but D'Amato, as far as it goes, was a professional guy and very nice person. But this film was made at the time of the Carnation Revolution in Portugal. But then when I did the first cut I wasn't satisfied so I quit. Lina was terrific, but the movie was very poorly managed.


Has anything changed for you after receiving the Spanish Academy's honorific Goya award? Are you having more job offers now?
I've never had offers from anybody. Nothing has changed, it never does. This is the way it always has been. I do what I do, at my own expenses and risks. If someone likes it, fine; if not, I don't give a shit.

Ce que j'ai lu (les 2/3) de l'interview est rigolo, mais c'est écrit dans un anglais très approximatif (même les questions) au point d'être parfois incompréhensible.

En plus, je ne connais pas du tout les films de Franco, et je n'ai pas la motiv suffisante pour en voir, assez convaincu que ça ne me plaira pas.
C'est terrible, non?

C'est au point où j'en ai en soldes au magasin, que je ne vends pas.

Pour commencer, j'ai du mal aujourd'hui à regarder des films des années 70-80 que je ne connais pas déjà, et parfois même à revoir ceux que je connais... Alors de la série B à Z hispano-européenne.

Oui, c'est même assez terrible.
En fait, je trouve plutôt triste que un "retour en arrière" dans l'histoire du cinéma que tu ne connais pas, te sois si pénible à effectuer. C'est comme si plus aucun film du "passé" que tu n'as pas vu ne trouvait grâce à tes yeux.

Pour ma part, c'est dans ce genre de cinéma que j'y trouve mon plus grand intérêt. Car, à défaut d'être des oeuvres brillantes et/ou parfaites, c'est un cinéma constamment surprenant et rafraîchissant. Bourrée d'idées, d'audaces visuelles et narratives sans parler de l'originalité que l'on y trouve. Aujourd'hui, la majorité des oeuvres du cinéma sont toujours engoncées dans des formules préétablies qui n'offrent plus du tout ce petit grain de folie, de surprise, d'inattendu. C'est d'un conventionnel souvent endormant et guère palpitant. Mais bon, ça c'est un autre débat...

Jess Franco, la personnalité, est passionnante à écouter/lire. Après, pour ses films, je doute en effet que cela te plaise... Tu n'en as vraiment vu aucun? AUCUN?

Surprise!

En faisant du rangement au magasin, je suis retombé sur un exemplaire en soldes de VAMPYROS LESBOS, et du coup, j'ai craqué.

Je ne vais pas faire durer le suspense: j'ai tenu 20-25 minutes.

Première mauvaise surprise: ce DVD anglais présente le film en allemand sous-titré en anglais, alors que le film se passe intégralement (pour le début en tout cas) en Turquie, et surtout qu'aucun des acteurs ne semblent avoir tourné dans cette langue.

Du coup, j'ai très vite eu le sentiment de subir une punition, de voir une version décalée de la version originale.

Ensuite: tout ça est d'une pauvreté extrême, et assez laid.

Ca me faisait penser à un film porno très cheap dans lequel il n'y aurait jamais de scènes vraiment porno.

Les acteurs et actrices jouent mal ou de manière minimale, la mise en scène, successions d'inserts "surprenants" et de plans zoomés et dé-zoomés, est ultra pénible et, en gros, il m'a très vite semblé que l'effort que j'allais investir pour essayer de comprendre ce film ne serait pas récompensé.

J'ai très vite ramené le film au magasin.

Non, Jess Franco, ce n'est pas pour moi.

Décès du réalisateur annoncé aujourd'hui: http://cultura.elpais.com/cultura/2013/04/02/actualidad/1364897929_540393.html

Triste jour. Je salue cet homme qui aura vécu en véritable rebelle durant toute son existence.

Le gros décès qui m'attriste le plus ces derniers temps. C'est vraiment triste mais faut se dire que le p'tit Jessie est partie rejoindre sa Lina à lui et que là-bas en haut il a dû se trouver une caméra pour filmer sa chatte dans tous les sens.

J'ai appris que la Cinémathèque française va lui rendre hommage lors d'une prochaine soirée bis. Je suis aux aguets. J'en serai, c'est clair! Je ne voudrais manquer ça pour rien au monde!

Clairement l'un des meilleurs films de Jess Franco, Venus in Furs baigne dans une atmosphère onirique et envoûtante sublimée par une musique jazzy et disco elle aussi totalement hypnotisante. A travers l'histoire d'une vengeance d'outre-tombe, le long-métrage offre une expérience purement sensitive, parvenant à transporter le spectateur dans une autre dimension, si tant est que l'on accepte de se laisser immerger dans l'univers très particulier du réalisateur. Et comme l'indique Alain Petit dans les bonus du dvd, Venus in Furs fait partie des "films de coeur" du metteur en scène, en celà qu'il y injecte une dimension irréelle en lien direct avec sa sensibilité artistique. Une oeuvre majeure dans ma poursuite de la découverte de la filmographie du réalisateur espagnol (vu qu'il a réalisé plus de 200 films, ça me laisse encore de belles soirées en perspective).