Blood of the Virgins (1967)

In the cosmogony of low-budget vampire flicks, hip young hedonists are forever finding their fun and frolics interrupted by droll and dire demands from the forces of darkness. The plot dynamics of the endearing and diverting Argentinian trifle Blood of the Virgins (1967) are no great departure from any other twisted tales of love-generation party kids stranded on their way home from the ski lodge and taking refuge in a musty mansion that they fear is, and later wish was, long abandoned. The enduring pleasures of this long-lost South American offering of unabashed cinematic kitsch stem from its joyous celebration of blood-suckers and bouncy-breasted girls.