Macumba Sexual
1981, Spain, Directed by Jess Franco
Colour, Running Time: 77 minutes
DVD, Region 2, Anchor Bay, Video: Anamorphic 2.35:1, Audio: Dolby Digital 5.1
Jess Franco has polarised audiences more than most over the years, largely due to the variable quality and the extremely subjective nature of responses elicited by his inordinate amount of movies, the actual quantity of which probably the director himself isn’t sure of. Whether he’s specifically a talented director or not is difficult to say: his output seems to swing between admittedly very good (Eugenie… The Story of Her Journey Into Perversion) the bad but still quite enjoyable on some level (Oasis of the Zombies; yeah I know everybody else hates it!) and the plain painful to watch (Down Town). If he’s an incompetent film-maker then why has he occasionally produced a minor gem, and similarly if he’s adept then why does he in other instances manage to create such horrific cinematic car wrecks? Macumba Sexual in my opinion falls somewhere around the middle of the scale: a simplified story appears at first glance to be merely an excuse for near-hardcore pornographic imagery, such is its abundance. Perhaps it is, but it may be worth looking deeper. Lina Romay was to Jess Franco what Dianne Keaton/Mia Farrow (etc.) has been to Woody Allen and Brigitte Lahaie was to Jean Rollin, and here she takes principal role (Alice, the actress billed as “Candy Coster“) as an estate agent enjoying a beach holiday with her husband. He’s attempting to write a novel while Alice sunbathes hoping her boss won’t disturb her. But of course she quickly receives a phone call asking her to visit a nearby island to sell some property to a resident princess who’s interested in buying abroad (shades of Dracula). Reluctantly heading off to the remote island, and leaving the husband to his book, she’s somewhat perturbed to find the princess is the same woman who’s been haunting her dreams for weeks. It’s not quite clear whether Alice is kept prisoner but for a while she’s explicitly seduced by the princess and her servants before being found washed up on the beach by her husband. What she doesn’t realise is that her husband has been having similar visions and, quite intrigued by her possibly false story of being violated, he takes off without her to the island so he can see or experience for himself whether what she’s told him is the truth.
Aside from Romay’s seemingly perpetually naked body the main thing this film really has going for it seems to be Franco’s forte: its surreal dreamlike atmosphere supplemented with symbolic imagery that may or may not be randomly chosen. Franco didn’t have access to the greatest actors on the planet (though some of them aren’t too bad) so their often offbeat performances actually contribute to his strange visions in this case. Pacing is sombre, again a contributory factor to the mood’s overall effect while a large portion of the running time is filled with surprisingly explicit shots involving almost all of the cast; more surprising is the fact that the BBFC passed it uncut in Britain, presumably this being partly because they probably feel that a film such as this will attract the smallest of audiences over here and is of minimal ‘threat’ to public morality. Then again, I’m not exactly familiar with current attitude towards hardcore so perhaps Macumba Sexual isn’t as edgy as it once might have been. Like Mansion of the Living Dead, which is almost a companion piece to this film, there’s the feeling that the characters are in a lost universe, such is the feeling of seclusion, and this of course works in the story’s favour but whether the viewer can enjoy such a journey is purely dependent on his/her temperament on the day along with their tolerance for unusual slices of cinema. While the film is technically superior to much of Franco’s other work - cinematographer Juan Soler must surely take significant credit for this, plus the tribal soundtrack is acute - some will still look at this a piece of horse manure. I don’t personally think it’s a supreme work of art by any measure but there is something alluring about the film and its expedition through surreal, sexually charged territories.
Taking the new master created by Severin in the US as a source, Anchor Bay have a very good transfer on their hands here. As aforementioned the film is uncut, presented in an anamorphic 2.35:1 aspect ratio with original Spanish audio (reportedly there was no English dub available anyway), sound options as Dolby Digital mono or a quite unnecessary 5.1. The twenty minutes or so of interview footage on the Severin disc is omitted but considering the low price of the boxed set that Macumba Sexual inhabits one can’t complain and Anchor Bay should receive some commendation for bringing obscurities to British soil, regardless of how many or how few people actually admire such work.