Matcollis This Movie Can Only Be Described With One Word.

ManiakJiggy This is How Movies Should Be Made

Payno I think this is a new genre that they're all sort of working their way through it and haven't got all the kinks worked out yet but it's a genre that works for me.

Bob This is one of the best movies I’ve seen in a very long time. You have to go and see this on the big screen.

Woodyanders Traumatized trumpet player Jimmy Logan (a solid and likable performance by James Darren) discovers the beautiful dead body of mysterious femme fatale Wanda Reed (smoldering and mesmerizing blonde Maria Rohm) on the beach in Istanbul. Things take a turn for the strange after Wanda shows up still alive in Rio. Logan and his singer girlfriend Rita (a delightful portrayal by the delicious Barbara McNair) soon find themselves caught up in a dangerous whirlpool world of deception and debauchery that also involves predatory lesbian Olga (luscious brunette Margaret Lee), depraved rich playboy Ahmed Kortobawi (Klaus Kinski in peak suavely slimy form), and art dealer Percival Kapp (a brief appearance by Dennis Price).Director Jess Franco, who also co-wrote the abstract, yet intriguing script by Malvin Wald, relates the engrossingly outer story at a hypnotically deliberate pace, does an ace job of crafting an arrestingly far-out, oblique, and enigmatic dreamy atmosphere, pulls off a neat supernatural twist ending, makes nice use of the exotic locations, and delivers a satisfying serving of tasty female nudity along with a sizzling smidgen of sizzling S&M-flavored soft-core sex. Angelo Lotti's stylish cinematography provides a sumptuous bright look and boasts lots of funky visual flourishes. The supremely groovy jazz score by Manfred Mann and Mike Hugg hits the swanky'n'swinging spot. Both Frnco fans and aficionados of oddball 60's psychedelic cinema should totally dig this one.

Paul Andrews Paroxismus is set in the late 60's & starts in Istanbul where jazz trumpeter Jimmy Logan (James Darren) is walking on a beach when he finds the washed up body of a young blonde woman on the sand. Jimmy becomes confused, he recognises the woman as a Wanda Reed (Maria Rohm) whom he briefly met the previous night at a party held by playboy millionaire Ahmed Kortobawi (Klaus Kinski), Jimmy also remembers that he witnessed Ahmed & two of his friends attack & murder Wanda. Confused & scared Jimmy leaves Istanbul & heads for the carnivals of Rio where he meets jazz singer Rita (Barbara McNair) & surprisingly meets Wanda again despite her seemingly being dead. It seems that Wanda may have come back from the dead to avenge herself & punish those responsible for her own murder...This English, German & Italian co-production is known under various titles with the US retitling Venus in Furs the most common although hack Spanish director Jesus Franco originally wanted to call it Black Angel, despite bearing the Venus in Furs title this has absolutely nothing to do with the infamous novel by Leopold von Sacher-Masoch of the same name. Franco was apparently inspired to make Paroximus after a conversation with jazz musician Chet Baker, whoever he is. I will be honest straight away & say that I think Jesus Franco is possibly the worst filmmaker in cinematic history so maybe I am a little bit biased, generally speaking I hate his films & his dull cheap looking amateurish style but having said that I realise he does have fans & they consider Paroximus as one of his better efforts for some reason. Basically I thought it was complete crap from start to finish, it makes absolutely no sense & the sense of surrealism & symbolism that Franco was obviously aiming for ends up making the film incomprehensible & a chore to sit through. Nothing here makes any sense, sure maybe that's what Franco set out to achieve but I just couldn't get into it & felt it was a total mess of badly shot arty surrealism & supernatural ghost story with a hint of musical & soft core porn thrown in to muddy the waters even further. There's also a really strange twists ending that makes no sense & just left me frustrated & annoyed that I had bothered to watch the thing. Paroximus really is a terrible film, Franco does it again with yet another worthless 90 odd minutes.Franco is a such a limited & talentless filmmaker that when he tries to shoot scenes in an interesting & artistic way that symbolize something they just look cheap, lots of random shots of beaches, the sea crashing against rocks, random stock footage of carnivals, various buildings in Istanbul & an apparent liking of the colour red amount to absolutely nothing. There are various uses of slow motion for no reason & the final few minutes are tinted various colours which just looks awful & will have you questioning whether your telly is broken. Even Franco's usual sleaze is absent, apart from a little bit of nudity & a few drops of blood there really isn't anything here of note. Paroximus also features possibly the worst car chase in cinematic history. When over half the film are close-ups of people or random buildings then you know your in trouble, quite simply Franco is not creating atmosphere or drama or a sense of surrealism he is merely trying to waste time with (dull) padding, this film really has nothing to say or has any sort of coherent meaning.Probably shot on the sort of budget that wouldn't buy a round in your local pub these days the colour photography is alright & it's slightly better made than most of Franco's output, apparently shot in Istanbul. The acting isn't the best although to be fair I am sure English dubbing doesn't help matters. Klaus Kinski turns up in a small role while Franco regular Dennis Price is also here & gets an unintentionally funny death scene.Paroximus or Venus in Furs or under whatever title is yet another crap Franco film shot on a shoestring, I just don't understand the guy or why he has any fans at all. His films are just universally terrible & Paroximus is a case in point, surreal & meaningless tripe.

Falconeer Anyone claiming that cult filmmaker Jess (Jesus) Franco was a hack, obviously has never seen his masterpiece, "Venus In Furs" aka "Paroxismus." Mind-bending, visually stunning tale of a jazz musician obsessed with the beautiful blonde woman, murdered as he watched, during an S&M session that went too far. Already haunted by her memory, he becomes lost in a hallucinatory World when her nude body washes up on shore. and the world in which he finds himself might..or might not be Hell. Very original concept at the time, an idea that has been imitated countless times since, in such films as David Lynch's "Lost Highway." The dreamlike jazz score is as sensual as the images on screen. The scenes in Istanbul, where the adventure begins and ends, are beautiful and chilling, and sexually charged images played against the backdrop of Mosques and Islamic chanting make for a bizarre and unsettling experience. Actor James Darren is perfectly cast in the main role of the trumpet player. Darren, who was an acquaintance of jazz legend Chet Baker, based his character on the horn player, imitating his mannerisms and way of speaking. Barbara McNair is wonderful as the lounge singer, who tries to save Jimmy Logan from his inescapable fate, and of course Maria Rohm inhabits her role as the 'Venus in furs,' back from hell to avenge her death. And who can forget the piercing blue eyes of Klaus Kinski, as Ahmed..the Turk with a taste for sadomasochistic sex. What a cast! "Paroxismus," with it's unique editing, camera work, framing, lighting etc is something that should be studied in film classes; it is that good. This is what cinema is all about.

chaos-rampant As likely to be heralded in certain circles as a preeminent figure of stylish erotic Eurohorror as he is to be dismissed as a hack-of-all-trades and purveyor of Eurotrash, often both at the same time given his gargantuan and largely uneven filmography and depending where your affections lie, Jesus Franco if nothing else at least can't be brushed aside easily. If Oasis of the Zombies gives valid claim to the second, Venus in Furs does the same with the first.A jazz player discovers the body of a woman washed up in a beach in Istanbul. Weirdness ensues. Not really 'meaningful' weird, the kind of weird that suggests a certain insight to be gleaned from closer inspection, but 'captivating' weird, 'hallucinogenic' weird, the kind of weird where you buy the ticket and are happy to be simply swept along for the ride. The movie seems disjointed at first, haphazard, low-key voice-over narration transporting us through time and space back and forth until plot and story cease to exist in any one given level. Yet it doesn't take long for a sort of inner rhythm and flow, jazzlike and hypnotic, to emerge. Suddenly we're in a ritzy party and Klaus Kinski is peering wide-eyed into the camera. The dead woman is now alive, scantily dressed and being flogged in a dimly lit basement by Kinski and two of his friends. From Istanbul to Rio back to Istanbul, the strange woman seems to be exacting some kind of revenge while she keeps a love affair with the horn player on the side.For all the casual languid randomness, Franco seems to know what he's doing. Not narrative speaking so much as in terms of atmosphere and overall ambiance. The camera constantly zooms back and forth, the movie pulsating with a jazz vibrato. Shots from the primary narrative (the actual story) are later repeated inside a flashback (fantasy? reverie?) making the boundaries between present and past tense blur hopelessly, turning the linear into cyclical. Something which is further compounded by the bizarre ending where I think Franco reaches for more than he can grasp and comes up mostly with straws. That combined with the little epigraph superimposed over the screen brings the movie down a notch because it reduces the heady surreal noir that precedes it into a "so it was all..." conclusion. By openly stating what we've been suspecting, that everything exists in someone's head and adheres to the fragmented laws of dreams and memory, Franco robs us of the pleasure of understanding for ourselves.Thirty years down the line Venus in Furs is more likely to appeal to fans of Alain Robbe-Grillet and David Lynch than Eurohorror hounds, the emphasis here being on mysterious rather than grotesque.