Spermula (1976)

Ingenuity, overt eroticism and sweet snippets of satiny skin can improve anything, even old and established myths. Think of the vampire archetype. Wouldn’t the story be more appealing on an instinctual level if instead of a fanged, neck-sucking ghoul who looks like a ceremonial pallbearer at the funeral of Liberace, the vampire was rather a ravishing, though pale-skinned, lady of class with a haughty intonation and the overwhelming desire to drain her male victims of their sperm? Such is the premise of Spermula (1976), a Frenchified version of the Nosferatu shtick that, while maybe not making obsolete the acknowledged greats of the genre, certainly is a gulp and a bare breast above the rest.