FW: HAPPY BIRTHDAY, JESS FRANCO!

FELIZ CUMPLEANOS AL TIO JESS!

I can't thank you enough for all the movies and memories....

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HAPPY BIRTHDAY, JESS FRANCO!

FELIZ CUMPLEANOS AL TIO JESS!

I can't thank you enough for all the movies and memories....

View image on Bing

Franco's 80s actors: JOSÉ LLAMAS

In 1979, Antonio Mayans, who had previously acted with Jess Franco on an occasional basis six years before, was part of a theatre company that was putting on a play at the Alfil theatre in Madrid. When, two months later, the production got into money problems, Mayans quit the company on a Saturday. On Sunday he got a call from Alicante to appear in Franco’s first version of Poe’s The Gold Bug (unreleased as yet). The rest, as they say, is history.



Among those Mayans left behind in the acting company was a dark, slender, boyish actor named José Llamas. It seems to have been through Mayans that Llamas, three years after that failed stage production, was to become one of Franco’s regular 1980s players. According to Mayans, Llamas “was very good friends with my wife and daughters, so after a while we had him join the group. He was a very nice man, and almost like an older brother to my daughters. He was also a very good actor, he could dance and sing…” (1).



As part of “the group”, Llamas was assigned anything from minor roles to leads, sometimes on the heroic side, as in Viaje a Bangkok, ataúd incluido (1985) and several antagonists, such as his “Macho Jim” in Los blues de la calle Pop (1983). Strangest of all was Franco’s decision that he fill in the shoes of Bruce Lee in some of the pseudo-martial arts features the director was occasionally and inexplicably turning out in the eighties despite an absolute lack of demand in Spain for homegrown product of this kind, not to mention Llamas’s lack of an appropriate background. The actor certainly looked athletic, had black hair and, as Mayans has said, could dance, but in the words of David Domingo “he’s hopelessly clueless about martial arts” (2). These words are in reference to La sombra del judoka contra el doctor Wong (1982-85), with Llamas credited as “Bruce Lyn” and the real Bruce Lee featuring on the film’s poster!



Since Llamas flourished in Franco’s cinema in 1982, and given his youth and looks, it’s not altogether surprising, perhaps, that he should “graduate” (if that’s the word) to appearing in several of the hardcore features that engaged the filmmaker throughout much of the 80s. In this respect, the actor’s roles include that of the Russian seen dancing to In the Steppes of Central Asia in the 1982 screwfest Una rajita para dos (“What’s the matter?” he tells the girls. “Don’t you like Borodin?”). In the credits of these flicks, Llamas’s name was usually replaced by the facetious porn moniker “Pepito Tiésez”, which might be translated as “Joey Hardon”.



It was these, of all of Llamas’s Franco films, that led to roles for other directors, more specifically in porn movies made by Ismael González and Manuel Mateos, and occasionally in the company of Mabel Escaño and Verónica Arechavaleta, both of whom had acted for Franco.



1987 is the year in which Llamas’s filmography seemingly comes to a halt, unless we count the 1984 El abuelo, la condesa y Escarlata la traviesa, not released until 1992. Both Franco and Mayans are on record as stating that Llamas died in London, and the former adds that he had been suffering from an AIDS-related illness at the time (3). His date of death is, as yet, unknown, but it might have been towards the end of the eighties. He appeared in at least 26 films within a film career spanning half a decade.

José Llamas's imdb entry at:

http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0515635/

(1) Interview with Antonio Mayans conducted by Ferrán Herranz and Francesco Cesari in book Il caso Jesús Franco (2010). Ed. Francesco Cesari. Granviale Editori.

(2) Review of La sombra del judoka contra el doctor Wong by David Domingo (5 June 2008) in blog La abadía de Berzano at: http://cerebrin.wordpress.com/2008/06/05/las-artes-marciales-en-el-cine-espanol-iii-la-sombra-del-judoka-contra-el-doctor-wong/

(3) Interview with Jess Franco conducted by "Chus" and "Al Pereira" (3 March 2002)for Francomanía website at http://members.fortunecity.es/francomania2/

Text by Nzoog Wahrlfhehen

Orloff's missing link: SÓLO UN ATAÚD

Ever since Jess Franco decided to lift the name of Bela Lugosi’s surname in The Dark Eyes of London (1939) to christen his villain for The Awful Dr. Orloff (1961) probably the filmmaker’s first distinctive film, the Orloff moniker has become something of a recurring motif in Franco’s filmography, whether applied to title characters or supporting roles. In the midst of all this we find two “apocryphal” Orloff movies – with Howard Vernon in the role but not under Franco’s direction. Of these the most familiar by far is Pierre Chevalier’s Orloff and the Invisible Man (1971), which feels like a project Franco himself might have undertaken. As for Santos Alcocer’s Les orgies du Dr. Orloff (finished in 1966, released in 1969), this appears to have been seen by mighty few people. Some might regard it beforehand as a missing link in the Orloff filmography; on closer inspection, this is debatable as it inhabits quite a different world from that of Franco and even Chevalier (a contemporary British setting, in fact). And moreover, it only marginally qualifies as an Orloff film at all.

The film that was screened before French patrons as Les orgies du docteur Orloff is really called Sólo un ataúd (aka El enigma del ataúd), basically a Spanish production with some French financing, written and directed by the Spaniard who was later to give us the belated Karloff vehicle Cauldron of Blood (1970) and, as based on a novel by the comic book writer Enrique Jarber, certainly not intended to link with Franco’s Orloff films. Indeed, although Vernon may be present once again in the ubiquitous Coracera castle outside Madrid, the Spanish soundtrack clearly identifies his character – not, by the way, a physician or scientist of any kind – as Dan Gaillimh. Whether this Irish surname was replaced with that of Orloff in the reportedly racier version that played in France is something I don’t know but in any case the French distributors did choose to name it “The Orgies of Doctor Orloff”.



Even if not visibly inspired by anything Franco had made at the time, it may, paradoxically, have inspired Franco himself into making La noche de los asesinos (1976) the following decade as the storyline betrays a distant kinship with The Cat and the Canary. Vernon’s eccentric millionaire, diagnosed with liver cancer, invites his much-hated relatives to his sinister castle (the ubiquitous Coracera, which had also housed Vernon in The Awful Dr. Orloff) to announce that, since he has dissipated much of his fortune, his inheritors will simply share the insurance resulting from his death. Some time after Gaillimh has gone to lie in his coffin, where he is not expected to awaken, the castle guests discover that he has been stabbed in the chest. Whether this has been suicide or murder, either possibility precludes the effectiveness of the insurance and the duly heirs go out of their way to conceal the fact and hasten the burial. Soon, the castle’s remaining inhabitants become subject to various mysterious goings-on: Gaillimh is briefly seen alive by his widow; his corpse reappears mysteriously in sundry places; one of his nephews is shot dead by a mysterious hand but his body immediately disappears; the police receive anonymous calls to the effect that Gaillimh was murdered…



On the whole, this is less a horror film than a mystery thriller whose talkative script is made all the more objectionable by Alcocer’s ponderous direction. The top-billed Howard Vernon is confined to a few scenes while the film itself is dominated by Danielle Godet (the scheming woman from Franco’s Devil’s Island Lovers of 1974), who plays one of the few inheritors not characterised by alcoholism, by religious fanaticism (as in the case of Tota Alba’s role), some colourful neurosis or just plain malice. Most of the characters assembled, in fact, appear to be defined with some broadly stated character trait likely to make them instantly recognizable with each reappearance. Given the convolutions of the plot, maybe this is just as well.

Text by Nzoog Wahrlfhehen

MORPHO ATTACKS!

The scientifically created Wolfman, Morpho (Michel Lemoine), attacks Diana (Janine Reynaud), one of the Labios Rojos in Jess Franco's EL CASO DE LAS DOS BELLEZAS (1967) aka TWO UNDERCOVER ANGELS.  A favorite scene which often makes me wonder if this is qualified as the first Spanish werewolf film, edging out Paul Naschy's LA MARCA DEL HOMBRE LOBO. Franco would bring a more traditional werewolf to the screen in DRACULA CONTRA FRANKENSTEIN (1971).

Interesting that both this and the Naschy films were coproduced by W. Germany. The Spanish version of this is about 15 minutes longer than TWO UNDERCOVER ANGELS and has an alternate musical score.

LA CASA DE LAS MUJERES PERDIDAS

Thanks to Nzoog I finally go the chance to screen one of Jess Franco's more obscure, but worthwhile, titles, the 1982 Golden Films Internacional production, LA CASA DE LAS MUJERES PERDIDAS. A difficult to describe blend of social satire, melodrama, erotic interludes, thematic and character references to Shakespeare's THE TEMPEST and KING LEAR, Cervantes' DON QUIJOTE DE LA MANCHA and even Ingmar Bergman's "island" films. That's a heady blend for sure and Franco would remake it, as BROKEN DOLLS, in 1999. After a cursory view I would say I prefer LA CASA... but the final scene of the demise of the father in BROKEN DOLLS is, for me,  one of the most memorable scenes of the director's digital oeuvre. 

CLASIFICADA "S"

A haunting piano sonata co-written by Franco and Rebecca White weaves through the film which opens and closes with shots of the Ocean. One could say the director's invocation of the Oceanic quality of cinema and his own oeuvre. It concerns the degeneration and final destruction of the Mendoza family. It's a kind of chamber cinema piece with only five characters excellently played by Antonio Mayans, Lina Romay, Carmen Carrion, Tony Skios [Antonio Rebello] and especially Susana Kerr [Asuncion Calero] whose developmentally disabled shrieks maker her one of the most indelible characters in the Franco canon. Franco developed the script with Bunuel's collaborator, Jean Claude Carriere, who also adapted CARTES SUR TABLE (1966), but he remains uncredited on the print I saw. 

Desde (Lina Romay) and the mysterious hunter (Tony Siios)

The main problem with this film is it attempts to infuse what is essentially a CLASIFICADA "S" item with ambitious literary/dramatic elements. That could be seen as a good thing, or very misguided. In fact, the film presents the director as his most inspired and misguided.  Did the target audience appreciate it? Who exactly was the target audience? The use of limited space, the Techniscope framing, and the flow of images, however, are arresting. I will have a lot more to say about this film in the future.

 The print Nzoog sent came from the Barcelona Channel but the film can also be downloaded. I would suggest to try and find an English subtitled, high quality, OAR print because the dialogue, aspect ratio and use of colors are key to appreciating this. Franco has said this is one of his most iconoclastic films (that's saying something!).

According to Franco "...it's a story of manners...bad manners! It looks like Bunuel's THE DISCREET CHARM OF THE BOURGEOISIE, yet it's different totally different. It mostly concerns la petite bourgeoisie" [Jess Franco, 1986. Quoted from OBSESSION: THE FILMS OF JESS FRANCO--p.153.]

Thanks again to Nzoog for helping me to see this. 

(C) Robert Monell, 2011

Franco's 80s actors: CÉSAR ANTONIO SERRANO

In Franco’s adventure film En busca del dragon dorado (1983), this one-movie actor was assigned the arguably thankless task of combining the spirit of Bruce Lee with that of Anne Libert’s birdwoman Melissa from La maldición de Frankenstein (1972). Although given top billing, under the fake Chinese-sounding name Li Yung, Serrano, has relatively few scenes as the ghostly “martial arts genius” who emerges deux ex machina to provide the two girls who are the film’s central characters with some help. When he does appear, it is in the form of the disconcerting (some would say unwittingly comical) figure of the “kung fu eagle”, who, accompanied by overdubbed bird screeches, either outstretches his arms into a wing-like flutter or essays some vague kind of cod-martial arts when confronted with villains.


In En busca del dragon dorado, set in an indefinite or imaginary country in Eastern Asia, with myriad Spanish actors (including Franco himself) doing their best to look Oriental, Serrano at least was a bona fide Asian, and moreover from a country once under Spanish dominion. Antonio Mayans, who dubbed in the voice of Serrano’s character, has said the following of him:

“It was me who chose the main actor [of En busca del dragon dorado]. I once went to the Rock-Ola disco to see Alaska [singer] and he worked as the doorman there. He was a Filipino, although we were looking for somebody Chinese. At first he took it as a joke and did a little karate number on me. I later took him to a gym for an audition and we finally hired him.”*


Caption: César Antonio Serrano, immersed in his grotesque “Kung Fu eagle” act.

• Interview with Antonio Mayans by Chus and Al Pereira for the Francomanía website at http://members.fortunecity.es/francomania2/entrevistamayans.html

[Text by Nzoog Wahrlfhehen]