Bloody Moon
Starring Olivia Pascal, Christoph Moosbrugger, Nadja Gerganoff

Director: Jesús Franco

Writer: Erich Tomek (screenplay)

90 Minutes 



 "No, Miguel. I'm your sister. We shouldn't start again. Don't you see that people wouldn't let us love each other. It's that... don't you see... it's everybody that's around us, staring at us and judging us."


I'm not entirely sure how to process the madness of Bloody Moon; where do I even start with this? My second Jess Franco film is a drastic turn in both tone and pacing from the previously viewed Vampyros Lesbos. It's a barrage of nonsense that would only make sense on the fringes of a deep dream, one its protagonist seems hopelessly stuck in. Olivia Pascal's Angela is caught between the fallout of a incestuous relationship (not hers, someone else's) and the looming danger of power tools. Her friends are dropping like flies, obviously murdered (how often do people land—back first—on knives, or accidentally decapitate themselves on industrial buzzsaws), totally invisible to anyone not named Angela, and as a result, the film gaslights her brains out. It's both sad and funny at the same time. Mostly funny, as iminent danger lurks around every corner, curtain, and boulder (yes, even the boulders are trying to kill Angela) that situations feel more like ACME springtraps than they do plot points.


Also, in keeping with this off-tilt zany nature of the film, the soundtrack is everything you love about giallo murder scenes, or sex scenes, mashed together and stuck in the loop of a broken record. I don't even know if I actually like what I'm listening to, but it's so relentlessly pounded into my head that I can't stop humming it. All this adds up to make Bloody Moon an insanely good time for anyone a fan of Italian slasher schlock, easily putting it shoulder-to-shoulder with the best wierdest shit from Argento, Fulci and the like.