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She Killed In Ecstasy
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1970; color
Directed by Jess Franco
Starring: Soledad Miranda, Fred Williams, Howard Vernon, Paul Muller, Ewa Strömberg, Horst Tappert & Jess Franco
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As previously mentioned on the BMB, She Killed In Ecstasy is one of three films made by prolific director Jess Franco during a brief period of time in the late '60s / early '70s starring one of the most fetching females ever to grace a film, Soledad Miranda. (She also co-starred, amongst a strong ensemble cast, in Franco's Count Dracula.) The other two, The Devil Came From Akasava and Vampyros Lesbos, have both been reviewed on the BMB previously; as to why this one was skipped over, I have to say I don't know. But today we're going to fix that. The plotline of this movie is not unlike one of my favorite non-Soledad Miranda Franco films, Diabolical Dr. Z. In fact, now that I think about it, Howard Vernon plays essentially the exact same character in both - that of a bug-eyed, stodgy, arrogant dude whose job includes dashing the hopes of promising doctors via his seat on a medical board. Which is exactly where our story begins. It's not exactly where the films begins though, so maybe we should start there. Prior to any plot development we see the credits roll over a series of Mutter Museum calendar-esque shots of medical oddities. (Always a good idea to kick things off with a dead baby in a jar, yes?) Then we get our first glimpses of the ever lovely Miranda traipsing about an architecturally stunning, ridiculously elaborate, ocean side estate. As she stands at the shoreline, gazing off into the distance, she slowly begins to tell the tale of her woe via voice-over (well, in this case sub-title-over) aided by a series of flashbacks, including scenes of her marriage to a typically European looking dude with a nasty scar above his lip. We learn that she is happy, oh so terribly happy, and lip scar guy looks pretty happy too. Who wouldn't be with a wife as hot as her! (Plus she's obviously got other, less tangible talents - I mean, there's no way she bought that metal necklace / bra contraption or the purple floor length crocheted cape off the rack at the mall.) But their marital bliss is soon to be shattered as the newly wedded fella prepares for the seaside medical congress that will decide his fate. The young doctor, you see, is some sort of scientific renegade, bent on advancing medicine by keeping fetuses in jars… or using said jar fetuses to find a cure for cancer… some kinda shit like that. At any rate, once he stands before the four man committee - which is made up of one woman and three men (including Vernon and, of course, Franco himself) - that will judge his research, his joy is soon turned to horror as they repeatedly insult his work and his very character. This makes scar lip guy go all gongwipdu and regress into some sort of fugue state. From here on he spends all of his time lying in bed, mumbling to himself about the medical board, and rebuffing his wife's advances. Until one fateful night when he jumps up, runs into the bathroom and slits his wrists. (I'm sure the Mrs. would have stopped him but, apparently, she's a heavy sleeper.) After she discovers her husband's body she does what any totally hot, totally grieving widow would do, she uses her total hotness to totally seduce and then totally kill each of the men; and the one blond lesbian broad as well. (Played by Ewa Strömberg, who also appeared in Vampyros Lesbos. She has the best, most kitchsy, post-coital death scene of the bunch by the way, featuring Soledad Miranda smothering her with a giant plastic pillow.) In the end killing these people does not help revive her dead husband, nor does it ultimately mend her severely broken heart. But it does makes for a hell of a memorable movie and, appropriately, the movie has a hell of an ending. (Suffice it to say, there won't be a sequel.) Needless to say - but since we're here, we might as well say it anyway - highly recommended!
—Bunny
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