Pierre Radamante (Olivier Rollin) tries to help a beautiful young woman (Caroline Cartier) who is being pursued by people wearing creepy animal masks and brandishing guns. Pierre is unable to save the woman from being shot and captured. He follows the masked people to their headquarters- a club where his father, Georges (Maurice Lemaître), is a member. Pierre sets out to discover what is going on inside, and finds out that his father and his associates are experimenting on the beautiful woman: they believe she is a vampire and that, through her, they will be able to achieve immortality.
Jean Rollin's The Nude Vampire doesn't deliver on its title: she's never actually nude, always draped in one of the director's trademark pieces of coloured chiffon, and she's not even a vampire. What the film does deliver are plenty of seriously strange and surreal sequences, none of which make much sense, but which are so totally bizarre that the film still proves a fairly entertaining experience. The random weirdness includes a woman in a red wig and plastic nipple cones dancing to bongo drums, women with white faces, bindi dots and blue nipples, a pair of twins who dress in identical bizarre outfits, an artist's model who busily fondles her breasts, Georges' bizarre collection of mutilated toy dolls, rituals involving sacks placed over the head, and a suicide cult. But Rollin saves the best for last, the final scene (which takes place on the same beach that is in the majority of his films) involving inter-dimensional mutants who are the next step in human evolution.
The whole film is summed up perfectly by an exchange of dialogue between a couple of Georges' associates: "Do you understand any of this?" says the first guy. "Not really," comes the reply. It makes me suspect that Rollin knew what an incomprehensible mess this really was.
Jean Rollin's The Nude Vampire doesn't deliver on its title: she's never actually nude, always draped in one of the director's trademark pieces of coloured chiffon, and she's not even a vampire. What the film does deliver are plenty of seriously strange and surreal sequences, none of which make much sense, but which are so totally bizarre that the film still proves a fairly entertaining experience. The random weirdness includes a woman in a red wig and plastic nipple cones dancing to bongo drums, women with white faces, bindi dots and blue nipples, a pair of twins who dress in identical bizarre outfits, an artist's model who busily fondles her breasts, Georges' bizarre collection of mutilated toy dolls, rituals involving sacks placed over the head, and a suicide cult. But Rollin saves the best for last, the final scene (which takes place on the same beach that is in the majority of his films) involving inter-dimensional mutants who are the next step in human evolution.
The whole film is summed up perfectly by an exchange of dialogue between a couple of Georges' associates: "Do you understand any of this?" says the first guy. "Not really," comes the reply. It makes me suspect that Rollin knew what an incomprehensible mess this really was.