As this is a Jess Franco film, it isn't surprising to learn that there are at least three versions. French, Spanish and Italian. In the Spanish version, the always excellent Howard Vernon plays Ana's father, and it is his spirit that leers through the mirror. In the French version, Vernon all but disappears and scenes featuring Lina Romay replace Vernon's death throes, and it is her spirit – that of Ana's sister Marie – that causes all kinds of hallucinogenic problems.
Ana Cohen is played by wonderful Spanish starlet Emma Cohen. A musician and singer, Ana provides an innocent presence, which is a rarity in a film at this stage of Franco's career. This makes her descent into that of a mindless killer more pronounced.
Of the two variants I have seen, I prefer the Spanish 'director's cut' version. It undoubtedly flows better, and we get a much sharper sense of horror with Vernon's suicide (complete with bulging eyes and protruding tongue) and his subsequent calling to her, seemingly from beyond the mirror. I can understand Franco's decision to replace this with images of Romay (I wonder how Vernon felt about this?): firstly, his fascination with her (which is understandable), and secondly as a means to attract more exploitative interest (which is useful – although Romay's scenes aren't restricted to titillation; they are fairly graphic and intrusive). And yet Romay, wonderful though she is, provides a distraction away from the story and although her scenes are inserted with smoothness, she nevertheless exists on the periphery, so we don't feel the sense of closeness between her and Ana like we do with Vernon.
All that aside, this is quite a haunting piece of work, occasionally poetic by Franco's standards, although afflicted with his heavily meandering directorial style at times. The rolling gardens and spacious rooms offer us a chance to buy into Ana's serene surroundings and upbringing, whilst her scenes in a jazz band could have done with a lot of pruning.
The inevitable smashing of the mirror is far more interesting in the Spanish version seeing, as we do, the final image of a hanged Vernon caressing his naked daughter, followed by the inexorable splintering of glass. In the French version, of course, Vernon's character never hung himself and therefore the climactic scene had to be shorn of 80% of its impact.
The Obscene Mirror then: difficult to find, sometimes heavy-handed in its direction and overlong in places, but beautifully acted (especially the baleful Cohen) and rather haunting.
Ana Cohen is played by wonderful Spanish starlet Emma Cohen. A musician and singer, Ana provides an innocent presence, which is a rarity in a film at this stage of Franco's career. This makes her descent into that of a mindless killer more pronounced.
Of the two variants I have seen, I prefer the Spanish 'director's cut' version. It undoubtedly flows better, and we get a much sharper sense of horror with Vernon's suicide (complete with bulging eyes and protruding tongue) and his subsequent calling to her, seemingly from beyond the mirror. I can understand Franco's decision to replace this with images of Romay (I wonder how Vernon felt about this?): firstly, his fascination with her (which is understandable), and secondly as a means to attract more exploitative interest (which is useful – although Romay's scenes aren't restricted to titillation; they are fairly graphic and intrusive). And yet Romay, wonderful though she is, provides a distraction away from the story and although her scenes are inserted with smoothness, she nevertheless exists on the periphery, so we don't feel the sense of closeness between her and Ana like we do with Vernon.
All that aside, this is quite a haunting piece of work, occasionally poetic by Franco's standards, although afflicted with his heavily meandering directorial style at times. The rolling gardens and spacious rooms offer us a chance to buy into Ana's serene surroundings and upbringing, whilst her scenes in a jazz band could have done with a lot of pruning.
The inevitable smashing of the mirror is far more interesting in the Spanish version seeing, as we do, the final image of a hanged Vernon caressing his naked daughter, followed by the inexorable splintering of glass. In the French version, of course, Vernon's character never hung himself and therefore the climactic scene had to be shorn of 80% of its impact.
The Obscene Mirror then: difficult to find, sometimes heavy-handed in its direction and overlong in places, but beautifully acted (especially the baleful Cohen) and rather haunting.