Review: The Velvet Vampire (1971)

(aka Cemetery Girls)
Directed by: Stephanie Rothman
Starring: Celeste Yarnall, Michael Blodgett, Sherry Miles
Written by: Stephanie Rothman, Charles S. Swartz, Maurice Jules
Music by: Clancy B Glass III, Roger Dollarhide
Country: United States
Available on: Blu-ray (Shout Factory)
IMDb

The Velvet Vampire is cult favorite director Stephanie Rothman’s follow-up to her hit The Student Nurses (1970), both of which she made for Roger Corman’s New World Pictures. This film didn’t have quite the impact of its predecessor, but it’s become pretty well-regarded since its release. It falls right in that sexy female vampire sweet spot of the early ‘70s, though this is entry is unique for a few reasons: (1) it’s set in a desert, primarily during broad-ass daylight; (2) it’s American, while most films of this ilk were being made in Europe; and (3) its definition of “vampirism” is loosey-goosey. The core setup is familiar, though (and quite similar to Belgian product Daughters of Darkness, also released in 1971), in which a newly married couple whisk off to an exotic retreat to spice up their marriage and find themselves seduced by a vampire and her companion. Celeste Yarnall, newly divorced and looking for a paycheck, jumps into the role of vampire seductress and does an excellent job, easily holding her own amongst the Brigitte Lahaies, Soledad Mirandas, and Delphine Seyrigs of the world. Her two co-stars, however, really muck things up. Michael Blodgett as the husband is too rigid and aloof, with dead eyes that I couldn’t stop focusing on, and Sherry Miles is just terrible. Neither one of them do a remotely feasible job playing off of Yarnall’s sensuousness or understated menace — and no one looks like they want to be doing any nudity, which would be fine if there weren’t a lot of nudity. Compared to its contemporaries, The Velvet Vampire is also remarkably flat and devoid of atmosphere, which is just disappointing since Rothman could have easily romanticized the desert through its beautiful sunsets and blooms and solitude. But everything is dusty and scalding and unappealing. The score, which mixes ominous synths with folksy acoustic guitar, is really great and carries the mood as best it can without the visuals doing their share. The idea that a woman who’s been burdened with a blood disease so long that she’s convinced herself she’s a vampire is unique and interesting, but that info is also just thrown in at the end, and by a character who very well could be lying. Yarnall is doing what she can to carry this, but it’s just not as sharp, sensual, or dangerous as other films targeting the same market during this time.

Overall rating: 6.5 out of 10