Spanish horror starlet Helga Liné (ORGY OF THE VAMPIRES, HORROR RISES FROM THE TOMB) stars as the titular character, Lorely. Liné is an ancient siren with a most curious affliction: in order to restore her "eternal dream" she must subsist on the hearts of unwitting humans. She is also afflicted with a modified type of lycanthropy as she is transmogrified into a scaly, reptile-like beast (looking sort of like an unholy alliance between the creature from the black lagoon and the cookie monster), stalking a small Spanish town under a full moon. The horrified populace elect Sirgurd (THE PEOPLE WHO OWN THE DARK's Tony Kendall) to deliver them from evil, and protect the girl's school nearby, which has been exceptionally susceptible to Lorely's carnivorous grasps.

From the startling pre-credit slaughter of a schoolgirl to the hauntingly romantic final frame, Amando de Ossorio's film delights and entertains throughout. A laudably undiluted, laconic and old-fashioned drive-in horror film at heart, the film absolutely hums with effective pacing and well-placed romanticism and fantasy, adding more dimensions to an already serviceable horror film. The gore murders are particularly memorable, mostly consisting of a scaly Liné clawing through unfortunate villager's chests to extract her hearty prize. The accompanying suspense scenes are also excellent and charmingly old-fashioned in execution with the reptilian assailant noisily croaking and showing off its hideously deformed claws for an enthralled audience. The creature's effects are mostly convincing and startling, however the transformation sequences often show their age.

But Lorely wouldn't be nearly as enthralling if shocks and gore were all she had to offer. Lorely herself is a stunning beauty, so much so that Sirgurd can't help but fall for her. This dangerous seduction awards the film much of its charm and lasting images. Scenes such as Sirgurd's initial spying of Lorely in a swampy field are instantly memorable and could easily go the rounds with Rollin's most dizzyingly romantic work. From this romanticism erupts a plethora of interesting dynamics between Lorely and Sirgurd. Their relationship is doomed and tragic, but nonetheless exhilarating. Quiet romantic scenes such as the one with the two tragic lovers in each other embrace, sheltered by Lorely's small, mist-enshrouded shack are proof positive of de Ossorio's deft filmmaking assets (who also wrote the film).

Effectively wrapping the central romanticism is an equally quaint and evocative setting, that of a small, simple Spanish town. In fact, it wouldn't be entirely erroneous to draw the conclusion that the town is a sort of Spanish Loch Ness, as both towns share intriguing (and surviving) mythology sporting a terrifying monster that grants the town a singular identity. Of course, both towns seem to be entirely shrouded in a ubiquitous mask of mist, rolling over frosted green hills, effectively photographed by Miguel F. Mila.

Complementing the Celtic atmosphere is a whimsical score by Anton Garcia Abril. Although not always immune to delving into the psychedelic rock musings of the period, the score serves the surroundings quite well, with tear-jerking violins and soulful choral interludes. The scenes with Liné and Kendall benefit particularly well from Abril's otherworldly score.

Unfortunately, however, the film is not flawless. The draggy denouement, in particular, suffers from a few false climaxes too many. As a result, the flabby final half-hour forces the film to loosen its belt and accommodate these digressions, and the film's defining immediacy is temporarily disposed. Also contributing to a tentative loss of steam is an unnecessary romance between Sirgurd and a schoolteacher. However, the film rebounds significantly for its far-out conclusion. The final conclusion is emotionally complex and calls a surprising range of reactions in the viewer, that of sorrow, sympathy, horror and wonder. And how many horror films (past or present) can do that?