“Sometimes I see fire in your eyes. I don’t understand it.”

Smells like seagulls, salt water and spunk. One of those strange, beautiful Jess Franco gems buried somewhere between his jungle films and his “fucking awful” (Stephen Thrower’s words) kung-fu picture. Released under his own Manacoa Films label, Franco must have felt disheartened to find that even after he went out of his way to write an intelligent, straightforward melodrama, nobody wanted to buy it. Never released theatrically, and until very recently (2020), only available on a nearly unwatchable Spanish video transfer, it’s another one of those minor revelations for Francophiles, especially those that have long defended his 80s period as rife for discovery. 

Begins as a murder mystery, with a young fisherman found with a bullet in his head and Carlos (Antonio Mayans), a disgraced lawman, sent to nearby Deer Island to follow up on a rambling tip about murderous sirens from the local soothsayer (Franco). The wise man is right, two sisters are ensconced there, living in an old bar, complaining about the lack of business, walking around topless. The oldest, Alida (Eva Leon), serves drink and sex to sailors who just happen to be lured in. But there aren’t as many boats anymore, and not as many lights on the dark of the water.

Alida and her younger, mute sister Maria (Linda Romay) take a liking to old friend Carlos, but local thug Raul is jealous of Alida’s affections. Adding to this already complex diagram of lovers is Raul’s son Andy, who is engaged to a girl from the village (Analía Ivars) but feels compelled to sexually assault Maria before he says his vows. It all comes to a head when Andy ends up on the wrong side of a pistol, and the almost-bride seeks revenge. 

Bahia Blanca is Franco at his most melancholy. His sea, so often a symbol of calm and longing, is a sad and desolate place. A deceptively literate character driven drama, gone is much of his exploitation and horror flourishes, in place is a collection of human refuse, washed up on shore, and trapped by the tides. There’s an almost Wellsian, Touch of Evil-esque flavor to this peripheral town that is haunted by mystics, lazy sheriffs, island bound whores and gangsters dressed in white. Everybody is struggling to connect but can’t overcome their baser instincts.

The film is bookended by voiceover from Alida, surveying the destruction. Her perspective seems shifted by the experience, but she’s still stuck in an endless loop. Nowhere to go. Her universe ends at the last plank on the pier.