Kiss of the DamnedEvery year around Halloween, stores spring up selling various costumes, all sorts of shapes and sizes. Among these are costumes are always the perennial favorite, the sexy vampiress, which is really more akin to lingerie than something to wear for trick-or-treat; Kiss of the Damned is a little something like that. The film is a gothic vampire movie, more in the vein (sorry) of Anne Rice's books, with vampires who more resemble models, with perfect bodies and designer clothes than the flesh-eaters crawling through the mausoleums. They prey upon their quarry, but look so good in the ennui-filled interim.
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Kiss of the Damned draws stylistically from the giallo-style of Italian horror of the 1970s, by filmmakers like Mario Bava and Dario Argento, where style is the subject, and the experience is not so much driven by plot as the kind of evocation the sounds and images, which the erotic vibe running through is meant to conjure up. I've heard it said that all poetry is about two things: sex and death. While the poetry of Kiss of the Damned might be the kind to be spoken in smoky cabarets with snooty berets and turtleneck-clad attendees snapping their fingers in applause, it does bear that familiar juxtaposition of both themes via the vampires portrayed here. There is Djuna (Joséphine de La Baume), the lonely, serene, even angelic vampire, her empty evenings filled with video rentals at the local store near her palatial retreat in the countryside estate in Connecticut. Watching old films is her pastime, filling the immortal hours, until she makes eyes with Paulo (Milo Ventimiglia), the handsome screenwriter who is taken by her beauty, her lilting French accent, her facade of vulnerability. There is an electric spark between them, something primal, something which draws them to one another, which binds their fate, which leads Paulo to accept Djuna's nature...and embrace it for himself. She tries to drive him away--revealing herself to him--but it is not enough, and the fixation--the allure--is cemented in him; Paulo's old life is over in the throes of passion. La petite mort, indeed. Djuna helps Paulo to understand his new identity, as he becomes aware of new things in his heightened sense of awareness, something hinted at earlier on their first date...the acute sounds of rustling leaves, birds chirping, thunder roaring with ferocity. Djuna does not claim to invite him into her life, but she does make her true self known to him in a revealing way. Somehow, she manages to chain her arms and legs to her bed, leaving her prostrate; the intention is so that she cannot hurt Paulo when the hunger overtakes her, but the whole scenario has all the trappings of a bondage game, one which Paulo identifies as a kind of seduction, consciously or not. Djuna's writhing is a blur between the feral and the orgasmic, and the final nail in the coffin of his resistance giving way--after all, there are worse ways to spend eternity than with a gorgeous vampire companion.
Djuna and Paolo's undead honeymoon begins in earnest, only to be interrupted by the incursion of Djuna's wild sister--and fellow vampire--Mimi (Roxane Mesquida), the thin wedge of the real world of darkness in which Paolo is now a citizen. Djuna tries to give Paolo a sense of community by introducing him to her fellows in sanguine high society by taking him to an upscale gathering at the New York City apartment of the apparent leader of the clique, Xenia (Anna Mouglalis). This revealing meeting identifies this subculture as one not of lurkers in darkness, but of high-powered movers and shakers, people who--if you didn't know they were vampires--you might mistake for politicians, which would be worse. They are a haute couture brand of bloodsucker--replete with a predominance of French accents, as well--who sneer at humans as beneath them, much like one would expect from upper crust snobbery in general...only they are literally a breed apart. And yet, this collective subscribes to a code of conduct, even if it is a flimsy one. Mimi's erratic and psychopathic behavior is barely tolerated by the collective, less so by her sister who sees her for the threat she is. Djuna and Mimi represent polar opposites of this vampiric spectrum, with Djuna as the controlled repression of her hunger, Mimi as the uncontrolled chaos, fueled by a destructive urge. Mimi wants to cause ruin, and actively seeks ways to cause suffering to those around her, be it by brazenly engaging in her bloodlust in the back alleys outside of nightclubs, or tempting those restrained vampire allies with virgin blood, which apparently drives them wild. When Paolo's agent, Ben (Michael Rapaport), finally tracks his erstwhile client down at Djuna's residence, he is pleased to see him happy and working on a script with action and thrills in it. Ben tells Djuna that he used to get mad at Paolo for sticking to only writing "artsy" content, stuff that wouldn't sell. This comment is a bit of a self-knowing assessment of Kiss of the Damned; the film is filled with sexy moments, erotic stimuli, true, but it avoids building up to massive set pieces and "good versus evil" encounters. The world of the vampires in this film is one of eternal beauty, a gothic fantasy where the sun is to be avoided, as it just wreaks havoc upon their perfect complexions.
Recommended for: Fans of a titillating and beautiful vampire film, where the vampires get blood all over their faces, but never on their designer clothes. The ambiance and mood will remind those attuned to giallo horror of its roots, the soundtrack occasionally thrums along with a sly and sexy, familiar kind of groove.
Djuna and Paolo's undead honeymoon begins in earnest, only to be interrupted by the incursion of Djuna's wild sister--and fellow vampire--Mimi (Roxane Mesquida), the thin wedge of the real world of darkness in which Paolo is now a citizen. Djuna tries to give Paolo a sense of community by introducing him to her fellows in sanguine high society by taking him to an upscale gathering at the New York City apartment of the apparent leader of the clique, Xenia (Anna Mouglalis). This revealing meeting identifies this subculture as one not of lurkers in darkness, but of high-powered movers and shakers, people who--if you didn't know they were vampires--you might mistake for politicians, which would be worse. They are a haute couture brand of bloodsucker--replete with a predominance of French accents, as well--who sneer at humans as beneath them, much like one would expect from upper crust snobbery in general...only they are literally a breed apart. And yet, this collective subscribes to a code of conduct, even if it is a flimsy one. Mimi's erratic and psychopathic behavior is barely tolerated by the collective, less so by her sister who sees her for the threat she is. Djuna and Mimi represent polar opposites of this vampiric spectrum, with Djuna as the controlled repression of her hunger, Mimi as the uncontrolled chaos, fueled by a destructive urge. Mimi wants to cause ruin, and actively seeks ways to cause suffering to those around her, be it by brazenly engaging in her bloodlust in the back alleys outside of nightclubs, or tempting those restrained vampire allies with virgin blood, which apparently drives them wild. When Paolo's agent, Ben (Michael Rapaport), finally tracks his erstwhile client down at Djuna's residence, he is pleased to see him happy and working on a script with action and thrills in it. Ben tells Djuna that he used to get mad at Paolo for sticking to only writing "artsy" content, stuff that wouldn't sell. This comment is a bit of a self-knowing assessment of Kiss of the Damned; the film is filled with sexy moments, erotic stimuli, true, but it avoids building up to massive set pieces and "good versus evil" encounters. The world of the vampires in this film is one of eternal beauty, a gothic fantasy where the sun is to be avoided, as it just wreaks havoc upon their perfect complexions.
Recommended for: Fans of a titillating and beautiful vampire film, where the vampires get blood all over their faces, but never on their designer clothes. The ambiance and mood will remind those attuned to giallo horror of its roots, the soundtrack occasionally thrums along with a sly and sexy, familiar kind of groove.