Directed by Stephanie Rothman. Written by Maurice Jules, Charles S. Swartz and Stephanie Rothman
A real medley of styles, Stephanie Rothman’s The Velvet Vampire is first and foremost a jab (stab?) at straight people, especially narrow-minded ones, delivering onto us two protagonists we can’t help but hope die in this story of a monster who preys on the horny and unwitting.
Michael Blodgett plays Lee Ritter and Sherry E. DeBoer plays Mrs. Ritter, Susan. They’re at an art exhibit, trying to “understand” the art when they come across Diane LeFanu, a dark-haired temptress, brought to life by Celeste Yarnall. Once Lee’s tucked his stiffening manhood under his belt and wiped the drool off his chin, he offers Diane a drink, and Susan just barely manages to shout that she’d like one too before they leave her behind.
It doesn’t take much on the part of Diane to convince Lee to come visit her at her house out in the desert and to bring Susan with him. Susan’s obviously not a fan of their weekend plans, but does come along. Then mysterious things start happening and they grow suspicious of Diane’s intentions. Diane, on the other hand, seems to enjoy the increasing tension between the unhappy couple.
A little artful and quite the B-movie, The Velvet Vampire has some line readings that’ll make you snort, some jump-scares, and even a dream sequence that’ll make you wonder why great stretches of the movie are so artless. A movie driven forward by horndog husbands and the seductive women who have an easy time taking advantage of them, it also has plenty of lust, skin, and adults doing adult things, including a good bit of voyeurism.
Add stereotypical horror movie antics and you have something far from sophisticated but still a little eye- and ear-catching in its funkadelic production design and synth-pierced country soundtrack. Diane has a wardrobe to die for, featuring flowing red-dresses with bell sleeves, a feathery pink nightie, just to name a few ensembles, and much of the interiors of The Velvet Vampire is a fun blast from the past.
Like taking in the horizon of the California desert, you can see the story wind its way from miles off, so it’s in moments that The Velvet Vampire stands out, many of which take place in a dream space, or something that resembles it. For a movie with grotesque violence and agonized people, it’s also very sensual at times, and Yarnall’s performance as an enigmatic siren, alluring yet slightly aloof, is the source of much of that sensuality.
It’s in contrast to her that Mr. and Mrs. Ritter come off as petty people trapped in their heteronormative relationship that’s founded on narrow-minded traditions and easily undone. Worst is Lee, who almost bullrushes temptation, scarcely forgetting to let go of his wife’s hand before reaching out for other women, but it’s through Sheryl that The Velvet Vampire offers subversion, opening up a conversation of sexual liberation against the established norm.
That sexual liberation is the sizzle on The Velvet Vampire and offers some staying power along with some of its trappings. A simple film, elevated slightly by a cheeky outlook, some inspired moments, and some fine costuming.
Mikkel Frederiksen 