A very tired and embarrassed looking Les Tremayne portrays Death himself in this misfired shot at a Bergman homage, courtesy of legendary schlock-slinger Larry Buchanan(ZONTAR, THE THING FROM VENUS, et al).
Death has come for a lovely, small town virgin(Monica Gayle) who has barely had a chance to experience life, but he grants her one more day to live. What she wants to do over the course of that day is hardly a big surprise...
Mannered, though no-less lowbrow sexploitation outing is fodder for a few fortuitous laughs at its bootless attempt to transcend the meretricious nature of its foundations. The decidedly unsubtle material is pitched with a gauzy pisselegance which begs to be ennobled by poetic Left Bank sensitivities. The results are decidedly more grindhouse than art-house(which is just fine, as I see it), though production qualities are, quite surprisingly, fairly solid.
Pretty rare, and pretty likely to stay that way. 4/10
Death has come for a lovely, small town virgin(Monica Gayle) who has barely had a chance to experience life, but he grants her one more day to live. What she wants to do over the course of that day is hardly a big surprise...
Mannered, though no-less lowbrow sexploitation outing is fodder for a few fortuitous laughs at its bootless attempt to transcend the meretricious nature of its foundations. The decidedly unsubtle material is pitched with a gauzy pisselegance which begs to be ennobled by poetic Left Bank sensitivities. The results are decidedly more grindhouse than art-house(which is just fine, as I see it), though production qualities are, quite surprisingly, fairly solid.
Pretty rare, and pretty likely to stay that way. 4/10