What a waste of my time!!!

Purely Joyful Movie!

The film makes a home in your brain and the only cure is to see it again.

This film is so real. It treats its characters with so much care and sensitivity.

I am fascinated by simple things: watching a 'feelgood' movie makes you feel good, and the opposite. Yet, this simple process comes from the most astounding mechanism, which props up every aspect of waking life. You pick your friends this way, dream, suffer and love this way—all intuitively, without much conscious thought.Now turn to this film. Franco is sort of a gamble for me. He works so fast, that when cameras start rolling the thing is basically half-formed and taking shape as you watch. This is nice. I don't mean to make any excuses for what the films clearly lack, but it's an interesting way to make films, more loose than usual; what some of the best filmmakers attempt, trying to sneak up to who is really watching. It's a living experience if you can stay mindful. (by contrast to someone like Kubrick or Nolan who puts the vision first, deftly maps everything ahead of time so it reaches you lifeless)So for me, the gamble is squeezing past the sloppy overall vision faster than you can reason. This is staying mindful, by which I mean let yourself be neither numbed nor swayed by the sex or violence or the apparent sloppiness. If you don't squeeze past fast enough, you'll be stuck behind a wall of finding faults, not a fun place to be. If you do, Franco can reward because that is the level where he starts to be intuitively interesting; the idea is to be already on the inside when he starts tethering images. Sometimes when you get there, it's just empty fabric, but sometimes not. The point is that he can work on a semiconscious level, which is not conscious thought and most filmmakers utterly miss. This film gets there better than any of the rest I've seen.The main premise is a woman unsure of herself and reality. The opening scene is in a dungeon where she has a couple tied up and playfully tortures them with a knife, this would be the typical Franco film you are geared to expect but we soon find it's a staged scene, pointing at fabrication. Back home, she performs a striptease for her man but he's bored and rolls to sleep. The next scene is where, dismayed, she walks out as if in a dream and wanders to a seaside castle, where apparently she has another life and a child. More. She suffers from amnesia, and later she pops with others in a party what looks like acid tabs.This is all loosening up reality so we can get to the interesting stuff, simple entry points.So the film is where the woman wanders around in a narrative haze of folded time, not unusual for Franco. But there's more than languid air here. Franco namedrops Godard at one point, I was reminded more of Resnais and later Raoul Ruiz, who was also influenced by Resnais.Men approach her claiming to know her (we presume sexually), but she can't remember. Won't?All sorts of hypnotic images intrude in her story, usually of men who pressingly ask questions about art and pop culture—a Godardian 'loan'. Her man assumes the role of Mickey Spillane and slaps and interrogates her as if she's a film noir dame holding out on him. At the party, the host reads up from a book about the woman as temptress and succubus who seduces, leads astray and drains men. All this reinforces a sense of sexual guilt and suffocation.Superficially, it's about the woman's journey through masculine perceptions of her, boring if you think of it in the Catholic context which the conscious mind of Franco was probably addressing. Superficially, this is presented to us as 'brainwashing' by her man. Bo- ring.What's powerful about this, is wondering a bit about who or what is tethering images into a story. This is beyond conscious control of images, up to you to ponder.From the inside of her dream, you can't separate inside from outside, images simply bubble up in some order. These images are all her own dream, gradually they take the form of violent urges, being in that story gradually she feels more impure. What is causing this to happen? What starts out as her own reverie, is it slowly polluted by these other perceptions? Surely making out with the young girl is her own genuine urge to be apart from men, interrupted by the compulsive desire to kill. Or is it? Is it something her man would fantasize about, who she wants to please? Is she becoming the character imagined of her? Is the self fetching the images or the other way around, the images gradually acquire a self?This right here is the level where Franco is intuitively interesting. It is that semi-abstract space of story not tainted by logical mind, involuntary memory. If you have to see only a single Franco film, make it this or Eugenie De Sade.

Hoo, boy, I don't even know where to begin with this one! Jess Franco's "Succubus"--his first of four films in 1967 alone, in a career oeuvre that as of this date contains around 190 (!) pictures--takes a sharp turn from the director's previous pictures, many of which ("The Awful Dr. Orloff," "The Sadistic Baron von Klaus," "Dr. Orloff's Monster" and, especially, "The Diabolical Dr. Z") had been perfectly lucid, imaginatively shot, beautifully photographed B&W minimasterpieces. "Succubus" is a film that is almost impossible to synopsize, much less figure out...even more so than Franco's "Venus in Furs" (1968). The only other films I can compare it to, in my limited experience, as far as surrealism, "trippiness" and the ability to both dazzle and frustrate the viewer are concerned, are Jaromil Jires' "Valerie and Her Week of Wonders" (1970) and perhaps Alejandro Jodorowsky's "El Topo" (1971). But "Succubus" is a much lesser film than those other two, and infinitely more boring and pretentious (capital "P"). The film seems to concern an S&M nightclub performer named Lorna (played, it must be granted, with some authority by model Janine Reynaud) who may or may not be a hell-sent succubus or perhaps merely a psychotic serial killer. Or perhaps Lorna is only dreaming. Or fantasizing. Really, it is hard to say for sure, and anyone who speaks with great authority regarding this film is full of hooey, as even Franco himself, during a 22-minute interview on this fine-looking Blue Underground DVD, admits to not understanding his own movie! He excuses this, though, by remarking that Jean-Luc Godard once told him that a picture does not have to be understood to be successful. Oy gevalt. Making matters worse is the fact that Reynaud herself is a completely unsympathetic/unattractive performer, although still kinda sexy (perhaps future Franco muse Soledad Miranda would have worked better here). Among the assorted bits of strangeness that the film dishes out are some weird word-association games, a pianist playing his instrument while looking at a math book, an LSD party, some very mild lesbianism in a room full of mannequins, and the fact that the picture seems to have been edited with an eggbeater. On the plus side: some dreamlike soft-focus photography, pretty scenery of Portugal and Berlin, and some strikingly beautiful images, such as lovers viewed through a fish tank (but signifying what?). Equal parts tedious and fascinating, the film was slapped with an "X" rating in the U.S. back in '69 ("X" for "Excruciating"? "Exhausting"? "Extremely hard to follow"?), its trailer proclaiming "The most unusual picture of the year...perhaps, of years to come." In a picture filled with so much ambiguity, that statement, at least, is decidedly true. Get some ergot-based derivative inside you and see for yourself!

I am a Jess Franco fan. I like the way his intuitions work. He just starts: the story is made up as he goes which imparts a sort of random cosmology behind what we see. But the thing that makes it work for me are his cinematic intuitions. There isn't any artifice or guile, no film school magic. He just takes the camera where he thinks his eye would go before it occurs to the narrative self go there.So even though the stories are cheap, and the images often pornographic, it has a cinematic integrity to it that cannot be denied.But not so here, in his most "professional" movie. Oh, the story is random enough, and has his trademarks: minds controlling other minds, performances within the film, adoption of older film references, movement in life as movement through sex. But the camera is controlled by someone without the vision he is known for.And the actress, though duly redheaded, is two hard decades too old, and twelve disappointments too severe.You should pass on this one.Ted's Evaluation -- 1 of 3: You can find something better to do with this part of your life.

Even though there's a repertoire of over 180 films to choose from, this 'Succubus' is often named as THE best Jess Franco film. Heck, even the legendary filmmaker Fritz Lang counts 'Succubus' among his personal favorites. So, maybe it's me but I thought this was a dreadfully boring and overly confusing movie. The opening is great, though, and shows Janine Reynaud performing an SM act on stage. It's all downhill from here, unfortunately. Reynaud's character is a maneater who eventually kills her lovers in some sort of trance. Franco had a decent budget to work with and spends it well on nice locations, beautiful photography and a mesmerizing musical score. This COULD have been his greatest film indeed, if it wasn't for the lame and uninteresting story. It's supposed to be psychedelic but I'd say sophomoric is a better term to describe what's shown here. Half of the time, you don't have a clue what's going on or what exactly is said so even the short running time of 80 minutes seems to last ages. This most certainly isn't Franco's best film according to me. I wouldn't even recommend it to die-hard exploitation fans. If you're looking for more superior Jess Franco film, try to get your hands on 'Las Vampiras', 'The awful Dr. Orloff' or 'Female Vampire'.