The Iron Rose
Review by Mari Lynne Rupp

There was once a time when movies weren't just about gratuitous violence and titty-shots. There was a time when dialogue was more than a link between gory death scenes.

The Iron Rose was filmed during this wonderous, and too-short period, with well-thought out dialogue and poetry, linking scenes filmed with care and well-thought out camera work.

This is a more cerebral scare, the hand creeping up your back and grasping the base of your neck, when you think you are alone, courtesy of Jean Rollin, of "Zombie Lake" fame, and many vampire sexploitation films.

Two young lovers picnic and frolic in the cemetary for too long, until darkness falls, and they can't find thier way out. Madness descends, and takes hold, causing them to panic, fight, and hallucinate, until morning comes and brings a shocking end to the lovers tryst.

It's a shame M. Rollin didn't keep with the tradition of the slow, disturbing scare, rather than follow in the footsteps of the less-cerebral American horror film makers.