Vampyres

Bisexual vampire seductresses, roaming a Gothic, secluded countryside, luring unsuspecting men and women into a world of sex, blood, and debauchery? I should’ve loved this, and I wanted to, but Vampyres is hardly the lurid, transgressive film that I expected it to be but, instead, a woefully, regrettably mediocre ‘70s lesbo-vamp flick. What I will say: the atmosphere is well-designed and well-executed, and the film maintains its sensual, dreamlike style and imagery throughout. However, for all its ambitions and indulgences, the excess and the gratuity and the exploitation of it all cannot possibly compensate for a screenplay as thin and forgettable as this. My greatest disappointment lies within the characterization of the undead lovers, Fran and Miriam, whose relationship is at the center of the film, yet is afforded remarkably little substance. Their interactions are few and far between and overwhelmingly physical, with very few or perhaps even no moments of true and honest intimacy, vulnerability, or even meaningful conversation. They feel less like fully realized lovers and people and more like a man’s fantasy of lesbian relationships. The misogyny extends to the film’s treatment of its female victim. The male characters are seduced, sexually engaged, and then, yes, subsequently murdered, but Harriet is afforded no comparable erotic encounter, and, instead, her death is staged as a spectacle of forced nudity and humiliation, her body displayed for the camera and audience in a manner that feels distinctly and palpably different from the treatment of the male victims. I’m hardly a prude, and I am not opposed to depictions of sexual violence within the genre, but I find this distinction rather telling. Also! The performances are flat and unremarkable. The dialogue is uninspired. The lack of narrative momentum is, honestly, impressive, considering the film’s commitment to near-constant sex and violence in its relatively short runtime. Even its more ridiculous and bewildering scenes and moments lack the wit or the self-awareness that might’ve elevated its shortcomings into something camp or entertaining. I know that I am berating this poor film and its makers, but after Daughters of Darkness, I have been spoiled by smart, nuanced depictions of female desire and sexuality in such a manner that not only de-centers men but dismisses them entirely. But ultimately, I don’t need my exploitation films to be sophisticated or even particularly coherent, but I do need them to be interesting. Vampyres has all of the clichés and blood-soaked tools for something sexy and thrilling and wonderfully perverse, yet does little to nothing with them beyond gorging itself on the most easy, superficial aspects of its premise. And, holy shit, the wet, open-mouth, tongue-thrusting kissing in this film is absolutely repulsive.