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Jean Rollin, {1978} Les Raisins de la mort (The Grapes of Death)

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Les raisins de la mort, 1978

Les raisins de la mort (1978) - Pressbook

AKA The Grapes of Death; The Raisins of Death; The Village of the Living Dead

#les raisins de la mort #the grapes of death #marie-georges pascal #mirella rancelot #félix marten #serge marquand #1970s horror #1970s movies #1978 #jean rollin #zombie horror #pressbook

BLOGTOBER 10/8/2025: THE GRAPES OF DEATH

First of all, this is an all-time great title, and it has a great poster, too! It's all the better that none of this is played for laughs: Jean Rollin's movie actually fulfills the promise of its Steinbeck reference, producing a deadly serious picture about illegal immigrants whose employer exposes them to a dangerous, deranging pesticide. Yes, its main makeup effects seem to be achieved with ketchup and mustard, but if you're willing to play along, the film's earnest performances and dreamy atmosphere more than make up for its flavorful flaws.

Élizabeth (Marie-Georges Pascal) is traveling to the remote village of Roublès -- less a real village, she explains, than a corporate entity; her fiancé Michel employs all of the residents at his vineyard. Her journey is derailed by the sudden emergence of a bizarre plague that causes the eruption of hideous boils and antisocial urges. Intriguingly, while the disease turns men into slavering sadists, it twists the women in more subtle ways, making it dangerously difficult for Élizabeth to know who to trust. Among the film's virtues is Brigitte Lahaie in (I think?) her first serious, non-pornographic role, carrying off a hammy visual quotation from BLACK SUNDAY quite well. As with all of the finer Rollin films -- including THE LIVING DEAD GIRL, which successfully expands on many of the themes here -- THE GRAPES OF DEATH is infused with a sense of terminal loneliness and destructive alienation, plunging the viewer into a mournful fog between saucy scenes of condiment splatter.

I must confess that I feel ill-equipped to talk about Rollin, as he's a bit of a blind spot for me. This is a personal failing; once you make too many movies that mainly consist of half-nude women meandering around in slow motion, I tend to start tuning out. But I know he's important, I have the gorgeous-looking Spectacular Optical tome on him, and I know most of the hits. I just have to make a more honest effort to evaluate him, as THE GRAPES OF DEATH has handily reminded me.