la mort vivante

  1. Psycho by Alfred Hitchcock, 1960.
  2. Lorna the Exorcist by Jess Franco, 1974.
  3. Possession by Andrzej Zulawski, 1981.
  4. The Strange Case of Doctor Jekyll and Miss Osbourne by Walerian Borowczyk, 1981.
  5. The Living Dead Girl by Jean Rollin, 1982.
  6. The Fly by David Cronenberg, 1986.
  7. Twin Peaks: Fire Walk with Me by David Lynch, 1992.
  8. The Witch by Robert Eggers, 2015.
  9. The Neon Demon by Nicolas Winding Refn, 2016.

Films that end with a woman’s sublime or abject experience. Inspired in part by a post by batarde.

“Whatever is fitted in any sort to excite the ideas of pain, and danger, that is to say, whatever is in any sort terrible, or is conversant about terrible objects, or operates in a manner analogous to terror, is a source of the sublime; that is, it is productive of the strongest emotion which the mind is capable of feeling.”

A Philosophical Inquiry into the Origin of Our Ideas of the Sublime and the Beautiful by Edmund Burke, 1757.

“The corpse, seen without God and outside of science, is the utmost of abjection. It is death infecting life. Abject. It is something rejected from which one does not part, from which one does not protect oneself as from an object. Imaginary uncanniness and real threat, it beckons to us and ends up engulfing us.”

Powers of Horror by Julia Kristeva, 1980.


Mondo Digital: Many of your films contain a great deal of sex and blood, but they are also romantic and sweet at heart. Do you think this is what sets apart your work from other fantastic and horror cinema?

Jean Rollin: You put your finger on it. For me, it’s impossible to make “gore” without emotion. If there is no love, passion, there is no film.

Je ne suis pas quelqu'un d'exceptionnel. Je ne suis pas quelqu'un qu'on appelle pour sortir dehors, encore moins quand il fait froid. On ne me regarde pas. Les autres ne s'arrêtent pas. Je ne suis pas la pluie qui fait chier les gens, je ne suis pas le soleil qui les éblouie. Je ne suis pas le vent, je ne suis pas une tornade; je ne laisse aucune cicatrice, aucune marque de mon passage. Je ne suis rien, je ne suis même pas le vide car le vide se ressent. Même le silence est plus bruyant que moi. Même la mort est plus vivante que moi.
Je ne suis rien.
Je crois que c'est ce qui me définit le mieux.
—  lespiquresaines