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Jayce

@jayceb.bsky.social

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  1. It just fascinates me. James Whale’s triumph duology, already ancient in cinema’s relentless timeline, rendered in the tasteless, the obscene, the masterfully lowbrow.

    The Frankenstein monster whips a nude couple in a satanic BDSM scene with cock shots galore, like.

    Dr. Frankenstein over his latest creature A vampire woman feeding in the middle of the castle grounds Dark figures in a dungeon lit with red light A nude couple being flogged by the Frankenstein monster who is wearing nothing but pants and boots 

The Erotic Rites of Frankenstein (1973), JesĂșs Franco
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  2. As ever a showcase of genuine low budget auteurship, Franco spins the trilogy’s dream state into a proper hallucination four-way crossroads for Hammer trash, classless giallo, Pier Palo Pasolini, and Ed Wood. A perdition of classic cinematic horror realized in auditory fever and heightened porn.

    A woman vampire
 bird
 thing A nude woman posing for a painter Dr. Seward in a red haze The Frankenstein monster strangling a vampire 

The Erotic Rites of Frankenstein (1973), JesĂșs Franco
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  3. JesĂșs Franco’s Erotic Rites of Frankenstein is sublime garbage, excellent dreck. In the finale of his “Universal monsters” trilogy, his inscrutable spin on the Frankenstein family wages war against a cult of sex maniacs and songbird vampires who turned the iconic monster into their horned-up gimp.

    The Erotic Rites of Frankenstein (1973), JesĂșs Franco
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  4. But the framing conflict (and final “moral”) is laughably lowbrow stuff. Watching the duo backwards didn’t help, but it really is more of an appetizer for its much better (and much more insane) successor.

    Definitely feels like the rot in Kuei Chih-Hung’s soul was Fulci’s Hong Kong equal, though!

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  5. Worthwhile watching just for seeing The Boxer’s Omen writhe and wriggle as a half-thought larvae within this one’s wilder wizard battles of Buddhism and dark sorcery, and Lee San-Yip’s cinematography is really beautiful stuff, terrific color theory and thoughtful clash of crystal and with prism.

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  6. Kuei Chih-Hung’s Bewitched (1981) is not at all what I was expecting. A slow creeper, playing into dread and far less into its sequel’s cracktastic batshittery. Excellently fucking gross black magic staged beneath lens flare rainbows, but something of a moody chore to get through to the good stuff.

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  7. This stop motion adaptation of the War of the Worlds radio broadcast has been one of my favorite things for ages. Just wonderfully made with phenomenally kitsch tripod models.

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