In this exotic Belgian/French/German production, John Karlen, who had spent many years brilliantly playing (the second) Willie Loomis in the cult American horror-soap 'Dark Shadows' here plays newly married Stefan. Danielle Ouimet plays the wife that Stefan seems strangely unwilling to introduce to his mother.They are staying the same hotel is the magnificent and sensual Countess Bathory (Delphine Seyrig), who the desk clerk swears stayed at the hotel forty years earlier and has not changed at all, and her ward Ilona (Andrea Rau). Worryingly, there is a spate of killings around the district, the perpetrator untraceable.Director Harry Kümel deliberately styled Delphine Seyrig's character after Marlene Dietrich and Rau's after Louise Brooks, the leaning to such genuinely iconic style pays dividends because the two figures are striking and make an impression before they have even spoken.As is often the way in the chic European horror films, the locations featured are absolutely stunning. Most of the story place inside the splendid (and yet more than slightly oppressive) Hotel Astoria, Brussels, which lends itself beautifully to the moody timelessness of the piece – even if the Countess does describe it as 'a caravan!' Equally, the pacing is typically leisurely, allowing us to become immersed in the theatrical nature of the titular characters and their world. 'Daughters of Darkness' is very similar in style to 'The Hunger'. Whereas the 1983 film has been slated for 'style over content', this is hailed as a classic. I'm not sure why such double standards should exist.When Stefan does finally telephone his mother and tell her of his marriage to Valerie, 'she' is revealed to be a flamboyant, elderly man – possibly Stefan's boyfriend. After that, Stefan – until now merely volatile – displays violent, resentful behaviour to his wife. Things don't end there. The Countess seduces Valerie and prevents her from leaving, and Ilona falls for Stefan, telling him she is 'afraid.' She has good reason to be, for during a sex-fuelled altercation in the shower (caused by her aversion to running water, which Bathory seems unaffected by), Ilona is killed. Not long after his behaviour spirals, Stefan is also despatched.There is a theme of red running (literally) throughout. Lipstick, nail varnish, costumes and sporadic gouts of blood; sometimes scenes fade to a strangely warm red before the next, reverting to contrasting cold blue colours, begins.As Valerie and the Countess speed through the night to escape the coming dawn ('Faster, faster,' purrs Bathory), there is, inevitably, an accident in which both appear to be spectacularly killed... … except three months later, Valerie, speaking with the Countess's husky voice, appears as well as ever and indulging in her usual exotic lifestyle. Fade to red one final time.A spell-binding film.

Beware as you go into this, it may sound like Hammer but it's nothing like it. It's a chic, stylish vampire film dripping with the most wanton aestheticism. The whole thing exudes the scent of an absinthe dream, the contours of a flowing red dress.Superficially it is about a couple of newly-weds - but who, as the film opens with them having sex in a train cabin, openly declare that they don't love each other - who find themselves stranded in Ostande and move in to a strangely empty hotel for a few days. A countess Bathory arrives there with her female companion, there's also the baffled concierge who tries to stay out of passion's way.I say superficially because the dynamics between the couple is what at first sight seems to be driving the story. The woman is desperate to break out from the limbo of anonymous sex and be introduced, thus be legitimized as a wife and woman, to the man's mother, an aristocrat back in England. The man, on the other hand, is content to derail those expectations and savour the erotic dream he has concocted to inhabit.But of course we come to understand that the narrative is powered from outside. The countess courts both, seducing in the emotional space between them. She personifies that wanton aestheticism right down to her body language. It is important to note that she is played by the actress who starred in Marienbad for Resnais, which this film alludes to; in the mysterious hotel setting with its expansive balustrades, in the twilight wanderings, in the sense of time revoked and sensations amplified.She is the architect of all this, building around these people the desires that will yield them to her. So it is the man's semi-conscious world of secret pleasures, but it's she who is slowly, slyly perverting them. She does this with the malevolent purity of a femme fatale.It does not matter that she is Bathory, or that blood is eventually savored from wrists, this is merely the desire made visible in a way that would appeal to a niche audience. So even though Jess Franco borrowed the velvety sunsets and decadent air from this for Vampyros Lesbos, this operates deeper. It matters for example that she seduces the man into a new obsession with violence, the destructive flipside of eros. It further pries the woman apart from him.Gradually what was a matter of taking pleasure from flesh is spun into something else entirely; again involving flesh but now literally draining from his.It ends with a stunning sequence across countryside roads; a lot of the imagery recalls L'Herbier - who also inspired Resnais - but here more pertinently. The soul has been so withered away from inside, so consumed from the fever of passion, that mere sunlight sends it reeling. Of course we can explain away by falling back to our knowledge of vampire lore, but we'd be missing on the finer abstractions; how, for example, the femme fatale is magically cast into the circumstances that, as we know from our knowledge of this type of film, would precipitate her demise. Nothing else would do after all.If we follow the set of reactions from what at first sight appears like an accident, it can be plainly seen how it all flows from her desire to control the narrative.It's marvelous stuff just the same, the colors, the desolate aura. I just want to urge you to see as more than just an 'artsy vampire flick'. Save that for Jean Rollin.

Two days after getting married in Switzerland, Valerie (Danielle Ouimet) and Stefan Chilton (John Karlen) travel by train to take a boat to England to visit Stefan's mother at the Chilton Manor. However, the train has to stop in Ostend and the couple lodges in the royal suite at a seaside hotel. The concierge Pierre advises that the place is empty since it is out of season and they become aware of three murders in Bruges.In the same night, the Hungarian Countess Elizabeth Báthory (Delphine Seyrig) arrives in the hotel with her secretary Ilona Harczy (Andrea Rau) and Pierre swears that she had been in the hotel forty years ago with the same appearance. When Valerie and Stefan cross the path with the mysterious countess, their lives are affected by the woman. Meanwhile a retired detective (Georges Jamin) snoops at the hotel suspecting that the countess may be the serial-killer that drains the blood of the victims to use as elixir of youth. "Les Lèvres Rouges", a.k.a. "Daughters of Darkness", is a weird and stylish vampire film. The story is very erotic and keeps the sexual tension along 100 minutes running time. Stefan is a sadistic homosexual weirdo and his "mother" is actually an effeminate man. The Countess is a lesbian vampire that wants Valerie as her protégé and mate. The film was shot only during the night and has a beautiful cinematography. My vote is six.Title (Brazil): Not Available

Erotic Euro-horror of the 1970s, which kind of began with a fascination for lesbian vampires parading around mixing nudity and violence in fixating web. Going a long way to make that happen, depended on what actresses you could get to allure an audience. The stylishly classy, but voluptuously psychosexual art horror "Daughters of Darkness" wins out on all counts, despite some convoluted plot mechanics. Quite unconventional, as it's a slow-burn Gothic story driven by its concentration on exploring characters (richly melancholy, tragic and sadistic if still having an ambiguity to it all) and arranging edgy, if almost fairytale-like atmospherics. There's something slightly unsettling about its tone, but while explicit it's done in a low-key manner. An unforgettable Delphine Seyrig is beautifully mesmerizing as the infamous "Scarlet Countess … Bathory" --- who bathed herself in the blood of 300 virgins for eternal youth. It's hard to take your eyes off Seyrig. An enticing Andre Rau with her striking facials (large eyes) and bob haircut plays the countess's young companion. These two characters come across a newlywed couple (John Karlen and Danielle Ouimet) staying at the same empty seaside hotel during the dead season. The countess soon becomes fascinated with the couple, especially with the wife. Director Harry Kumel crafts out an exquisitely surreal looking nightmare, where the detailed art direction (the eerily grand hotel and hauntingly isolated locations) is just as important as the story and performances. Visually captivating (like the powerful positional work in the climax), Eduard Van Der Enden's spaciously offbeat camera-work is distinctly framed in a sense if your peering in or sensually intruding while the unhinged music score is seductively expressive.