DAY 29. Free space!

I was trying to think of a movie I could watch to fill my free time and remembered that, somehow, some way, I had an unwatched Lina Romay movie. It’s kismet because yesterday I was looking back at my review of Jack the Ripper, and I had not succumbed to the Stockholm Syndrome of being pulled into the cinematic universe of Jess Franco. In fact, I wrote that I didn’t understand why people loved his movies so much. 

What was I thinking?

Rosa Maria Almirall Martinez was still in high school five years before this movie was filmed, not yet taking the stage name Lina Romay, not yet being the muse of Jess. Also not yet taking on even more stage names — “I’m Lina Romay when I have brown hair, Candy Coster when I have blonde hair, and Lulu Laveme when I have red hair.” — or leaving her husband for Jess. 

But in 1975, Lina was in a ton of movies, including Female Vampire and Barbed Wire Dolls. Here, she may play the “Rolls-Royce Baby,” but she’s really an idealized movie version of herself. The film begins with her shaving herself with a straight razor, which could give one the notion of sharp steel blades against young flesh because one tends to think big and obsess when watching Lina Romay movies. 

That said, this isn’t a Jess film, even if he may have directed a scene or two (I’m no Stephen Thrower, so I can’t just pull that knowledge out; Ian Jaye did say, “Right out of the gate when asked about this movie Dietrich says that he co-directed it with Jess Franco and that Lina was on loan from him, which is at odds with what most have believed about this film for years. It was commonly held that Franco was not involved in making this movie at all.”). Instead, it was directed by Erwin C. Dietrich, a former actor who moved into directing krimi films like The Strangler of the Tower before turning to adult films, where the money always is.

At some point, after touching herself and taking photos like cosplaying Sylvia Kristel in the wicker chair from Emmanuelle, Lina gets worshipped by Eric Falk (Mad Foxes), whom we’re introduced to when he does full-frontal karate. She then decides to head out in the titular luxury car, picking up a variety of men, from truck drivers to hippie hitchhikers, while he sulks in the car. Some of her lovers include Roman Huber, Ursula Maria Schaefer and Kurt Meinicke. 

Those are just facts; as for whether this is a good movie, all I have to say is that I had it playing in the background while I was in a meeting and audibly gasped the moment Lina appeared. Her giant eyes, her porcelain skin, just knowing it’s her… somehow Franco — and by extension Dietrich — were able to take what they loved about her and share it with the world, which is really the finest example of the sharing-caring paradigm I can imagine. 

I love that there are reviews that claim this is boring. Lina Romay wears lace and a big hat, staring right at you through the camera, fifty years ago in our time, gone from our realm of existence, but still vibrant, still young, still alive. 

You’d gasp too.