(Udo Kier experiences severe gastrointestinal distress after feeding on "whores" in Paul Morrissey's crackpot socialist anomie fest, Blood for Dracula. When I first saw it 1,500 years ago, it was known as Andy Warhol's Dracula... Another excellent Criterion release, one of the oldest in their catalogue... Its sister film, the superior Flesh for Frankenstein, is unfortunately now out-of-print. Flesh, also directed by Morrissey, was originally released to theatres in 3-D (again, under the Warhol rubrick), and that's how I witnessed it. It has an absolute classic catchphrase: "To create life, you must fuck the gall bladder.")
In the desolate years before punk, these films (along with Death in Venice, The Night Porter, Rolling Thunder, Female Trouble, Desperate Living, etc.) were a godsend. No fucking flared jeans, no hippie shit, just oncoming doom, emaciated Italian women (and good ole Tejas sluts in Thunder), style (and viscera) to spare, and a (slightly bowdlerized) subtext of polymorphous perversion.
Suicide Is Next to Godliness,