Gone, But Not Forgotten

With all the hyperbole and manufactured outrage at criticisms of her, it is easy to forget that Maggie Thatcher wasn't the only notable person to shuffle off this mortal coil of late.  Indeed, I managed to miss the most significant death - at least as far as this blog is concerned - that of legendary Spanish director Jesus Franco.  Almost as divisive a figure as Thatcher, Franco was either a terrible hack with no directorial talent who churned out exploitation pictures on a production line, or he was a misunderstood cinematic genius working in the low budget milieu of exploitation.  My experience of Franco's movies encompasses both extremes.  Vampiros Lesbos and The Bare Breasted Countess count as two of the most tedious movies I've ever tried to watch, (I couldn't finish the first, whilst I found myself fast-forwarding through endlessly repetitive scenes of a naked woman flailing about on a bed in the latter), whilst Dracula, Prisoner of Frankenstein and The Erotic experiences of Frankenstein were enjoyably demented pieces of surrealism.  According to the late producer Harry Alan Towers, for whom Franco directed many of these films, the Spaniard was originally a jazz trumpeter who tried to make movies as if they were jazz compositions.  Which explains the strange, free-wheeling style of his films, where narrative takes a second place to a barrage of often barely connected imagery. 

Sometimes this technique worked, more often than not it failed, leaving the finished films disjointed, unable to establish any real rhythm or momentum.  However, on rare occasions it could produce a minor classic.  A few weeks ago I watched what is often considered to be Franco's masterpiece, Venus in Furs, made for Towers in 1969 and released in 1970.  As I intend to eventually cover it as part of the 'Forgotten Films' thread, I won't go into detail, but suffice to say that, for once, Franco's fragmented style perfectly suits the narrative, producing a off-kilter, dream-like feel, which is entirely apt for the subject matter.  Never as dull as Vampiros Lesbos, or as demented as The Erotic Experiences of Frankenstein, Venus in Furs is an intriguing and entertaining picture.  But Franco wasn't the only notable to die, almost unnoticed, in the past week, or so.  The fine Irish actor Milo O'Shea also recently passed away.  I can't believe that his death hasn't stirred more comment than a few obituaries.  Familiar from both TV sitcoms and films, possibly O'Shea's most relevant performance as far as we're concerned was as the scientist Duran Duran in Roger Vadim's film adaptation of Barbarella.   Unusually playing a villain, it's a highly enjoyable performance from O'Shea.  So there you have it - two people probably worthier of state funerals than the milk snatcher, but who, sadly, have slipped away virtually unnoticed by the world.