My fella and I watched low-budget Susan George 1971 thriller Die Screaming Marianne last night. My mother is called Marianne incidentally - and she is such a Marianne.
When I was a teenager, my parents would to go bed at 10.30 and I, as the eldest child, would be left with the run of the house. This would also mean watching Fear on Friday - which showcased bad horror and thrillers from the 60s and 70s. Die Screaming Marianne would have been perfect. The best thing about it is the opening sequence. It is all down-hill from there.
You can say what you like about Susan George - but she was a very talented dancer. Apparently, they scored the music to the dance, rather than the other way round.
My poor fella knew he was in for a mind-numbing experience from the get-go but gamely held out (and didn't pick up a laptop or newspaper once during the whole thing, for which he gets brownie points).
The film felt like several key scenes had been removed and then replaced with irrelevant filler scenes. Characters tripped back and forth from Portugal to London as if they were all flight attendents with Ryanair. I was more interested in looking at the early 1970s shops, cars and clothes than in the story or acting. I miss living in the 1970s so much, that I'm prepared to put up with almost any dross as long as I get to see a groovy font on the front of a shop or a Hillman Imp.
Male sex appeal was catered for by Barry Evans (who played the teacher in Mind Your Language). He wore a 70s cravat in several scenes.
I wikipedia'ed him afterwards and it turned out that after the acting roles ran out he became a taxi driver and then died in rather odd circumstances. Oh dear.