Thirst (1979)

An offbeat and interesting variation on the vampirism theme from Australia, Thirst was part of the Anthony I. Ginnane stable of “Ozploitation” horrors that boomed in the late 1970s and early 1980s. Like a lot of Ginnane’s films it was directed by a relative newcomer, in this case Rod Hardy who used the film as a stepping stone from television to the big screen, going on to direct the TV mini-series of 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea (1997) and Nick Fury: Agent of Shield (1998) starring David Hasselhoff as the Marvel secret agent.

Successful young professional Kate Davis (Chantal Contouri) is abducted by a strange group calling themselves “The Brotherhood” and imprisoned in what appears to be a health spa known as The Farm. She is told that she is descended from the notorious Elizabeth Báthory and The Brotherhood, an elite society that lives on human blood, want her to join them. She refuses and discovers that The Farm is a facility for bleeding docile victims, “blood cows.” Against the wishes of the more compassionate Dr Fraser (David Hemmings), Dr Gauss (Henry Silva) and Mrs Barker (Shirley Cameron) ply her with hallucinogenics, what they call “psychic engineering”, hoping to break her will.

1979 was a bumper year for screen vampires with the likes of Werner Herzog’s Nosferatu: Phantom der Nacht/Nosferatu the Vampyre, John Badham’s Dracula, Stan Dragoti’s Love at First Bite, Jean Rollin’s Fascination and Harry Hurwitz’s Nocturna all doing the rounds during the year. Australian horror cinema rarely featured vampires, particularly during that golden age of the 70s and 80s, so Thirst is something of an anomaly, and a fascinating one at that. The Brotherhood claim not to be supernatural beings (they dislike the word vampire and walk about in daylight though how we’re supposed to reconcile their claims with fangs that appear and disappear and the occasional set of glowing red eyes isn’t clear) but rather “a superior race of people” who consume human blood as “the ultimate aristocratic act.”

The Farm, from which it’s impossible to escape and which is populated by drugged, mind-controlled inmates, regaled by bland PA announcements, feels not unlike The Village from TV’s The Prisoner (1967-1968). It’s also vaguely reminiscent of Alain Jessua’s Traitement de choc/Shock Treatment (1973) (which also features a medical facility where humans are farmed to service the wealthy) and looks forward to the scientific approach to vampirism taken by Joe Ahearne’s Ultraviolet (1998).

There are some rough edges on show here, be it Brian May’s music which is as intrusive as it often is, or some of performances that leave a lot to be desired, particularly Contouri who often seems out of her depth and disengaged from the proceedings. But there’s more that’s effective, including great turns from Shirley Cameron as the sinister Mrs Barker and the always watchable Hemmings, who stuck around in Australia to work with Ginane again on Simon Wincer’s Harlequin (1980). Henry Silva isn’t given a lot to do except attract US viewers and meet a rather silly death falling from a helicopter to be fried alive on some high tension electricity pylons.

Other ticks in the pro column include Vincent Monton’s lovely scope photography, the artist’s colony at Montsalvat north of Melbourne makes an impressive location for The Farm and John Pinkney’s script which not only brings some interesting twists to the long in the fang vampire story but is also shot through with a dark streak of humour. There’s something creepily funny about the bland geniality of The Farm’s tour guide showing new vampires around their source of nourishment, for example. He’s slightly uncertain as to what The Brotherhood actually are – the glowing red eyes are a very silly touch that the film would have been a lot better without but there’s a nice and amusing adherence to the old ways by these technologically advanced undead. They still engage in strange rituals (one of the unforeseen side effects of drinking human blood is that it turns imbibers into classically trained singers who boom out arcane chants in perfect pitch) and the Gothic trappings of The Brotherhood’s inner sanctum contrasts nicely with the hi-tech sterility of the of The Farm itself.

The lengthy hallucination sequence in the middle of the film as The Brotherhood drug Kate in the hope that they can find a chink in her psychic defences is particularly well done. Hardy refrains from overtly psychedelic nonsense, instead layering increasingly odd happenings over what appear at first to be quite normal everyday commonplaces. Kate initially seems to have been freed and is enjoying a picnic with her boyfriend Derek (Rod Mullinar) – himself later abducted as part of The Brotherhood’s plans – but after biting into a chicken leg which then bleeds, things take a satisfyingly delirious turn of events. Kate is subjected to a shower of blood, finds herself revisiting her unhappy childhood and encountering a melting corpse as the walls begin to crack and crumble around her.

Like other Ginnane films, like Patrick (1978) – whose eponymous star Robert Thompson turns up here in a small role as a Brotherhood agent – Snapshot (1979), Harlequin and The Survivor (1981) there’s little here beyond the accents to suggest that it’s actually set in Australia. This didn’t particularly go down well in Australia where Ginnane’s nakedly commercial approach to cinema rattled the cages of those who thought that the newly popular homegrown industry should be aspiring to higher things. But there’s no denying that the films are strangely effective and were popular overseas if only among a small nut ever-growing cult following. Thirst didn’t perform terribly well at the Australian box office but has in recent years been more favourably received.