Everyone looking to get out of reading the book by watching the movie, be warned: Jess Franco’s Venus in Furs has absolutely nothing to do (plot-wise) with the novel of the same name. This, of course, makes sense, as Franco himself has explained that he developed a script and then was forced to attach the title to it for marketability’s sake. What’s interesting, though, is that, while the plots of the two works have absolutely nothing in common, Franco’s film nevertheless has the same spirit as the novel with which it shares its title. By combining scenes of delirious sensuality, vicious cruelty, and sensually fetishistic observance, Franco has created a startlingly beautiful film that works just fine on its own terms.

As Venus opens (that sounds just a little dirty, doesn’t it?), we meet a young American jazz musician (James Darren) in Istanbul who has wandered from his house out onto a beach. Clawing through the sand, he unearths a trumpet while his voice-over narration tells of how he has been ensnared by the spell of a beautiful woman (the luscious Maria Rohm). Noticing a corpse on the beach, he runs to it, and finds that it is the body of this very woman. Flashing back, we find ourselves in an Istanbul club where the young musician sees the woman, Wanda (Rohm’s character’s name is one of the few direct references to von Sacher-Masoch’s novel that appears in the film), being tortured, abused, and finally murdered in a back room.

Distraught, the musician flees to Rio de Janeiro and begins playing in nightclubs. Once there, he is surprised to meet most of the participants from the bizarre sadomasochistic murder—including, most notably, the dead Wanda. Despite her warning that he stay away from her, the man finds himself unable to resist her charm even as she becomes tied closer and closer to a series of deaths—all involving those who tortured her in the club in Istanbul. So what exactly is going on? Who is Wanda? What is the source of her charm? And, most importantly, wasn’t she supposed to be dead?

Considered by many to be Franco’s chef d’oeuvre, Venus is a solid little picture that, while not my favorite film of Franco’s, is nevertheless still one of his best. Admittedly, though, for the unprepared, Venus might take a little getting used to. The film’s pacing can only be described as rather languid, which is, of course, not at all a bad thing, though if one were looking for a typical psychedelic European sex romp, one might be sorely disappointed. Venus definitely has a very dreamlike atmosphere about it, which is one of its charms; it’s deliberately paced and obsessively observant, which would make it not unusual for a person to get so involved in the delirium of what’s going on that he loses track of the narrative. Indeed, I found myself having to go back a time or two just to ascertain how I’d gotten to where I was from the last point I could vividly remember. The cover’s right: Venus in Furs is “trippy as hell,” and in the best of ways.

Nevertheless, the film is not without a few flaws. The story, for instance, is perhaps a little too simplistic to be optimally entertaining; however, considering that this is basically a “style over substance” film, that is understandable. What’s more annoying is a rather nonsensical and completely pointless twist ending that I definitely could have done without. Along with this, several of Maria Rohm’s hairstyles (at least, from a 2005 perspective) serve to up the film’s Goofy Factor a little too high at points. The film also feels noticeably restrained for a Franco picture; while it includes plenty of nudity, things are always kept rather carefully above-the-belt. Of course, this is not a problem in and of itself, but Venus is pervaded by a sense that Franco is itching to go further than his financers are willing allow.

Indeed, Franco corroborates this in the disk’s main supplement, a 20-minute interview titled Jesus in Furs. In addition to talking about production restraints, Franco gives some background on how the project came about (apparently, producers wanted to adapt Venus in Furs, Franco wanted to do a story about a jazz musician, and they reached this “compromise”), what it was like working with various actors, and how he was inspired to make Venus.

Moving on, we next come to an 11-minute audio interview with star Maria Rohm, whose reminiscences are played over a slideshow of behind-the-scenes stills, posters, and photos of her. Talking about how she got into acting, her feelings on cinematic sexuality, and “Uncle Jess” on the set, Ms. Rohm comes across as a thoroughly likeable woman and a very entertaining interviewee.

Next up, we get the requisite Blue Underground still galleries and a theatrical trailer for Venus in Furs. Finally, things conclude with a fantastic bio of Jess Franco written by Video Watchdog’s resident Franco scholar Tim Lucas. Running 11 PDF pages, Lucas’ article reads like a film class paper; it’s clear that he has an encyclopedic knowledge of Franco and an absolute passion for the man’s work. While I’ve recently been warming to Franco (I previously wasn’t much of a fan), these well-written liner notes definitely got me excited about him; they effectively argue the notion of Franco’s work as a continuum and make a case for the man as an artist. Perhaps I sound like I’m gushing, but these really are fantastic liner notes that will prove an entertaining read for Franco’s fans and perhaps an eye-opening analysis of his oeuvre for his detractors (of which I am now no longer one; chalk up one official conversion for Mr. Lucas!).

While nothing in the world could compare to the Franco bio (okay, now I’m exaggerating), Blue Underground’s release of Venus in Furs is nevertheless all-around a job well-done. While I might not quite consider it Franco’s masterpiece, Venus is nevertheless a solid piece of cinema from a very intriguing artist, presented lovingly in a beautiful new transfer by one of a cult film fiend’s best friends, Blue Underground. Do yourself a favor and check it out.