Eugenie… The Story of Her Journey into Perversion (1970)

floating just out of reach, so that Eugenie—and sometimes the viewer—cannot be certain whether she is awake, dreaming or being manipulated into believing the nightmare is her own fantasy. The household servants watch this corruption from the edges, adding jealousy, frustration and an uncomfortable sense that everyone knows the rules except Eugenie. What initially resembles a decadent ménage à trois gradually reveals itself as preparation for something more organised and sinister. When Dolmance and his oddly costumed disciples arrive to conduct Eugenie’s “initiation” according to their worship of de Sade, the playful Euro-sex atmosphere curdles into ritual humiliation and violence. Christopher Lee has limited screen time, but his cold authority hangs over the picture like a black cloud; he makes depravity sound almost respectable simply by delivering it in that magnificent voice. Franco’s direction is unusually controlled, using widescreen compositions, red-lit rooms, soft focus and sudden bursts of cruel imagery rather than chasing a conventional thriller pace. Bruno Nicolai’s restless mixture of lounge music, jazz, electronic sounds and mournful vocals completes the narcotic effect. It is sexy in places, unpleasant in others and finally rather melancholy—a film about innocence being dismantled by people who treat another human being as material for an experiment.

This is pure turn-of-the-seventies European decadence: modern villas, fashionable clothes, private beaches, cocktails, strange cigarettes and wealthy bohemians behaving as if morality were an embarrassing relic. Shot around Barcelona and the Catalan coast, it uses bright Mediterranean scenery as a wicked contrast to the darkness inside the house. The vibe moves from sun-dazed holiday fantasy to soft-focus fever dream, then into something closer to an erotic horror ritual.

Marie Liljedahl gives Eugenie a wide-eyed, vulnerable beauty that makes her seem genuinely outmatched, though her slightly dazed performance also fits Franco’s dreamy approach. She is frequently nude and photographed with an unmistakably appreciative male gaze, but it is Maria Rohm who really commands the screen: cool, statuesque, topless and confidently predatory, she can turn a quiet smile into a threat. The film offers extensive female nudity, lesbian caressing, three-way softcore action, voyeurism, whipping and sadomasochistic ceremony, but no hardcore sex. It is less interested in anatomical detail than in the dangerous allure of surrender—and in watching Rohm prove that an icy blonde with good posture can be far more intimidating than any man holding a whip.