Vampyros lesbos (1971) Starring Soledad Miranda, Ewa Strömberg & Heidrun Kussin Directed by Jesus Franco Written by Jaime Chávarri & Jesus Franco

Come on, you try it too. I'm not kidding. Say it out loud, right now.

Lesbian. Vampires.

Doesn't it make you feel good to say those words? Aren't you just all warm and tingly, like you just had a sip of a velvety Irish coffee, or hot chocolate with a shot of Kahlua in it? There's no getting around it, it's a ridiculously sexy idea. Neck-biting, blood-sucking fiends have always carried heavy sexual connotation; make them hot rug-munchers too and we're in naughty nirvana. Indeed, lesbian vampires predate Dracula, J. Sheridan Le Fanu having penned Carmilla, a story surprisingly blatant in its portrayal of same-sex love, a full quarter of a century before Bram Stoker's novel. Le Fanu's story went on to serve as the basis for Hammer's seminal (heheh, sounds a bit rude) Karnstein Trilogy, which long-time BThroughZ readers (I'm sure there's at least two of you) will remember I wrote about back in issue 4. And, in turn, the Karnstein Trilogy seems to have been the main inspiration behind recent Brit-flick Lesbian Vampire Killers, a lightweight but likeable bit of comedy-horror. But when the chips are down, there is only one true queen of the lesbian vampire movies; one movie that dominates all when it comes to undead girl-on-girl action.

And once again, we're going to say it out loud. Come on, you at the back, don't just move your lips and think that's enough. I want to hear you savour these sweet, poetic words, let them drip from your tongue like honey...

Vampyros Lesbos.

Vampyros Lesbos.

One more time - Vampyros Lesbos.

It may well be the single greatest title in the history of cinema. Everything you need to know about the movie you learn from those two words: you know it's going to be exotic and mysterious, you know it's going to be dark and bizarre, and above all you know it's going to have sexy European vampiresses going gay for each other. What you might not expect, however, is how surprisingly faithful a retelling of Dracula it is, and that it actually works as a piece of fantastical storytelling as well as a bit of sleazy titillation. And, like myself, you may be taken aback to find heading up the cast not just a pretty bit of Euro-totty, but one of the true great forgotten beauties of film history. This is a bit more than your average, garden variety Sapphic soft porn movie.

And how fantastic is it that the man we have to thank is named Jesus?

Jesus Franco, that is; also known as Jess Franco. In case you don't know, he was one of the biggest names in European 'horrotica' (don't you just love made-up genre labels?) in the 1970's, his insanely prolific career stretching out all the way to the present. I won't pretend to be an expert on his movies, having only seen a paltry few of the 190 that he's directed according to IMDB, but based on what I've seen of his work I think I can make the following statements with a degree of authority. One - he likes women. Two - he likes women who like women. Three - he likes them dark, svelte, sultry, and with more than a glint of the devil in their eyes.

And his leading lady here is all those things and more. It is in large part her presence that elevates Vampyros Lesbos above midnight movie novelty to true iconic status, and - sorry, Ingrid Pitt fans - she's far and away the sexiest lesbian vampire we have seen on film yet. She is Soledad Miranda, and it's criminal that the whole world does not know her name.

It may be in part because she died young, a casualty of a car accident within a year of what would to turn out to be her most famous movie, that Soledad never reached the superstar status she deserved. However, there may be another good reason her name isn't all that well known - it's not the name she is credited by in Vampyros Lesbos. Before becoming Franco's muse, she had been scratching out a living as a Spanish starlet, singing, dancing and acting her way to minor celebrity until going into semi-retirement on becoming a mother. When she began working with Franco, presumably concerned over the long-term ramifications of starring in skin flicks, she adopted the nom de plume Susann Korda . It's this name that appears onscreen beneath her extended arms and flowing red silk scarf in the opening titles, before she proceeds to perform a bizarre striptease, transferring her clothing from her own body to that of a most lifelike mannequin, which comes promptly comes to life and falls prey to her vampiric charms. It's a sequence so alluring that Franco saw fit to put it in the movie twice; the second time around set to the film's most memorable piece of music, a heavily psychedelic track which the wolf-eared may remember hearing at Sam Jackson's pad in Jackie Brown. (I mean, how could someone as cool as Sam not be into lesbian vampires?)

Witnessing the exotic dance in a club with her boyfriend is Linda (Ewa Stromberg). Haunted by recurring dreams of a woman identical to the dancer - it must be said, there are worse recurring dreams to be haunted by - she soon finds herself sent by her employers to the remote home of one Countess Nadine Carody, to discuss legal affairs or some shit. (Come on, don't act like that part of it is actually important.) And what do you know - when she meets the Countess reclining in the midday sun in big black shades and a little white bikini, it's that very same dancer/dream woman. In the Dracula paradigm, Linda could be seen as Mina and Jonathan Harker rolled into one; both the object of the vampire's desire, and the one brought into the vampire's circle to take care of business. (In fact, if we're prepared to be honest about the novel, Jonathan Harker is really both of those anyway - remember Dracula declaring to his three foxy brides, "This man belongs to me!" - but I digress.)

And yes - Nadine is a vampire who sunbathes. Far from the gloom of many a vampire movie, Vampyros Lesbos is positively drenched in sunlight, the screen shimmering with the hazy heat of the Turkish setting. And thank Jesus (Franco) for that, as it would be a poorer film indeed without that early sequence of the female leads swimming together then lying naked in the sand. It's a good a reason as any for the vampire to be sun-proof. Indeed, one of the most entertaining things about watching a lot of vampire movies is seeing which rules are used and which ignored. Sometimes sunlight kills, sometimes fire kills, sometimes even running water does the job. And remember the debate in From Dusk Till Dawn as to whether or not silver is anything to do with vampires? Sometimes all of them work, sometimes only some. I guess it keeps things from getting too stale. In this instance, however, pretty much all the rules are disregarded, the only method of dispatch being to pierce the brain, according to exposition guy Dr Seward. Yup, in that instance it seems Franco couldn't be bothered to create a new name, allowing the head of the lunatic asylum to keep the same moniker he had in Dracula. That same asylum is home to the Renfield of the piece, Agra (Heidrun Kussin), another slave to Nadine's unspeakable sexual power. And we can hardly hold her at fault for that.

And of course, it's not just the traditional vampire rules that Franco sees fit to disregard. Vampyros Lesbos seems to be the work of a director determined to subvert all the rules of conventional film. Surrealism seeps through near enough every frame, seemingly random cutaways to scorpions crawling and kites flying thrown in willy-nilly, and a narrative that's all over the place. Augmenting this freakiness is the soundtrack, as previously stated a psychedelic circus of sound, encompassing guitars, sitars, brass sections, Moogs and much more besides. Add to this the fashions - in particular Andres Monales as Linda's boyfriend, looking every inch the 70's porn star cliché with his pencil moustache, polo neck sweater and semi-bouffante hair (seriously, if this guy was slipping you the dick it's no wonder you'd crave the clam) - and it's nigh-on impossible to disassociate Vampyros Lesbos to the time it was made, leading many to dismiss it as mere camp. While I'm not about to dispute that the movie is indeed campy, I will play devil's advocate by saying that the abstract approach is appropriate here, given that the whole thing is seen through the eyes of Linda under the dreamlike influence of Nadine. Like any good dream, it's almost never clear as to what is real and what is imagined, and to try and interpret everything you see logically is an exercise in futility. Yes, this might seem a strange line of defence coming from me, considering that within this same issue of BthroughZ I'm critical of Italian horror for its excessive weirdness. What can I say - it's a matter of balance. Argento gives me characters I neither relate to nor care about; Franco gives me naked Soledad Miranda. Naturally, I'm leaning toward Franco.

It's fair to say that Vampyros Lesbos is a genuine one-of-a-kind movie. Though it features vampirism, it's not really a horror movie, nor is it quite sexually explicit enough to be classed as a porno. And while Franco may have continued pumping out movies that blend the sexy and the scary, with the likes of Female Vampire, Virgin Among the Living Dead and literally dozens more, I think it's safe to say he's never come up with anything quite so memorable and captivating as this, his masterpiece. Would things have been different had his ethereal leading lady not vanished into the ether so soon? We can but dream... and if those dreams should consist of Soledad Miranda and Ewa Stromberg kissing in the nude, interspersed with incongruous images of scorpions, kites and other such random shit, they'll be dreams well worth remembering.