Remember way back to like last year when Severin released their collection of Italian Gothic fright flicks in a handy box set called Danza Macabra? Well, they went and released a second volume (and because I’m woefully behind, a third set as well… review coming soon) so lets do the film by film bag, shall we?
First up is Antonio Margheriti’s (Yor: The Hunter From the Future) and Sergio Corbucci’s (1966’s Django) Castle of Blood from 1964, doubtless an answer to then-popular Edgar Alan Poe adaptations coming from legendary producer Roger Corman… hell, Poe even appears as a character in this very narrative (played by The Bloodstained Butterfly’s Silvano Tranquilli)!
Speaking of Poe as we are, he’s balls deep into describing the final act of his story Berenice to his chum Lord Thomas Blackwood (Umberto Raho, The Last Man on Earth) when they are joined by journalist Alan Foster (Georges Rivière) who believes that the supernatural is a load of batty bullshit.
To that end, Blackwood challenges Foster to spend All Soul’s Eve in ye olde local haunted castle (Blackwood’s ancestral home no less) which given his feelings on ghosts he accepts in a heartbeat.
Once there he encounters raven-haired beauty Elisabeth Blackwood (Barbara Steele, Black Sunday), and the two hit it off hot n’ horny.
The only problem there is that Bethy-baby isn’t the only one stirring this night, and Foster soon finds himself up to his ass in the castle’s murder-happy residents… residents who up and vanish after the deadly deals are done. Thankfully master of the metaphysical Dr. Carmus (Arturo Dominici) makes the scene and gives Foster the skinny; any sumbitch unfortunate enough to kick it in the castle returns once a year to relive their murders in detail… so our boy has a gaggle of ghoulish ghosts to contend with as the suspected batty bullshit becomes reality!
Not to beat around the beastly bush, but Castle of Blood (originally known as… your ass isn’t going to believe this… Danza Macabra, I mean what are the chances?!!) is a Gothic horror masterpiece through and through!
The main order of the day here is atmosphere, gobs of it, and Margheriti, Corbucci et.al. teach a master class in Gothic ambiance here! From the ornate, ancient abode… candlelit and eternally drenched in cobwebs and shadows, to the subterranean tombs below and all putrid points in-between, Castle of Blood is absolutely swimming in ghosts, murder, and other Gothic Greatest Hits that are sure to fill the cold, damp hearts of fans of the genre with grizzly glee!
This being an Italian genre picture, you can bet your arcane ass that this is also overflowing with erotic elements a-plenty as well with plenty of romantic trysts being interrupted by ham-fisted murder carried out by the ever-shirtless, muscle-bound Herbert (Giovanni Cianfriglia)… but the previously mentioned Italian version ramps the horny up considerably with exposed breasts and implied cunnilingus.
Also, this being an Italian genre picture there is a bit of animal cruelty on display involving a decapitated snake, so if you are sensitive to such material, here is your warning.
Speaking of that Italian cut (which runs nearly 10 minutes longer than the English-language version), that particular version of the film includes an optional audio commentary featuring Rod Barnett of NaschyCast and The Bloody Pit podcasts & Film Historian Adrian Smith that provides a ton of information regarding the film’s production in a scholarly and highly listenable fashion.
Also included are the film’s trailer and a TV spot (on the English version).
Before we continue, it has to be stated that the film looks fantastic here, as the 4K print Severin have used is crystal clear with plenty of detail and incredible contrast that accentuates the chiaroscuro, black & white photography of cinematographer Riccardo Pallottinini perfectly!
The film is also featured on Disc Two and Three in this collection.
Disc Two contains a Blu-ray version of Danza Macabra (as opposed to the first disc’s 4K razzle-dazzle) along with the previously mentioned commentary which is joined here by a selected scene commentary with Barbara Steele (along with her Archivist Russ Lanier), and a lengthy interview with Author/Film Historian Stephen Thrower who gives a scholarly examination of the picture.
Disc Three Features a Blu-ray copy of Castle of Blood along with the aforementioned TV spot and trailer, as well as an interview with Margheriti’s son, Edoardo, a fascinating video essay exploring Steele’s legacy in Italian Gothic cinema, a featurette on the film’s locations, and an archival chat with Margheriti.
Next in the collection comes a two disc set featuring the 1969 Italian TV adaptation of Robert Louis Stevenson’s 1886 Gothic thriller The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, titled simply Jekyll.
Written, directed, and starring Giorgio Albertazzi, Jekyll thrusts the material from the 19th century to the late 1960’s and finds Jekyll toiling as a molecular biologist and college professor.
Always down to rap with the youth about “today’s” sociopolitical climate and the morality of science, Jekyll is a cool dude among the hippie set… which stands in stark contrast to the actions of his alter-ego Edward Hyde, a genetic mutation of Jekyll’s, who emerges at night (at first) and enjoys runnin’ down teenage chicks with his Euro economy sedan.
Of course at first no one is wise that Jekyll and Hyde are one and the same… hell, Jekyll lives in a modest cottage on campus, while Hyde hangs out on a barge filled with outrageous pop art and porcelin dolls hung by their necks… but soon a couple of cats get wise to the whole thing, Jekyll’s friends Professor Hastie Lanyon (Claudio Gora) and attorney John Utterson (Massimo Girotti), and the hunt is on to put an end to Hyde while saving Jekyll!
Man, I dug the shit out of Jekyll!
Albertazzi nails the dual role (with his Hyde sporting white contact lenses, sweet sideburns, jet-black hair.. he may be a different color as well… it’s black and white and kinda hard to tell sometimes, and absolutely over-the-top sadistic tendencies), creates an imaginative and unique narrative, and brings great visual panache to the small screen with Jekyll.
I’m not going to lie, this baby is talky… but it’s also eerie as hell, both in the demeanor of Hyde and the strange liminality to the film’s locations and sets (which run the gamut from the aforementioned party barge, to sci-fi laboratories seemingly pulled from a comic book, to Lanyon’s Japanese-styled abode)… and the same creepy feeling conjured from the fog shrouded streets of Victorian England is equally evoked here by empty roads and cold, pseudo-Brutalist architecture.
Jekyll is also often completely batshit, in particular the side-story of Hyde getting a girlfriend, becoming semi-domestic, and settling his ass down for a beat has to be seen to be believed… but is by no means the only lunacy present… yet it often stays faithful to Stevenson’s tale, as well as retaining the text’s focus on ethical use of science.
It’s also nihilistic as fuck, but kinda hopeful too… which is a strange dichotomy… which is fitting I suppose…
There’s also a real art film vibe to many of the shots (with reflection, broken glass, and even documentary newsreel all co-existing in a heady visual stew) and the delightfully odd and experimental score/folk rock guitar and tambourine driven grande musique odyssey (with accompanying science lecture) courtesy of composer Gino Marinuzzi Jr. complements the surreal tone of the film to perfection!
This absolutely incredible psychotronic series runs for four hour long (give or take… mostly give) episodes spread out two to a Blu-ray disc. Special features appear on both discs, with Disc One featuring interviews with actor Giuliano Disperati (ne Esperati… and much more on him in our next review) and set designer Emanuele Taglietti, and Disc Two containing a video essay detailing the film’s production, themes, and it’s faithfulness to the source.
Please note that Jekyll’s clarity is soft having been made for TV and shot on video and all… that being said, the picture is good, not great (like Castle of Blood), not dogshit… you get it.
Moving on we come to 1971’s They Have Changed Their Face…
Middle management cog in the auto factory machine Alberto (Giuliano Esperati) is unexpectedly summoned to the remote country villa of the company’s owner, Giovanni Nosferatu (Adolfo Celi, Thunderball, Danger: Diabolik)… and yes, that name is unbelievably on the nose.
As Al travels to his destination he passes through a seemingly ancient village where he encounters free-spirited Laura (Francesca Modigliani), a young woman who is as shirt-adverse as Iggy Pop who travels with our hero to the villa, but opts to stay in the car rather than enter that ominous dwelling… a sentiment shared by the entire town.
Before you can say “Sued by Bram Stoker’s widow”, Al soon finds himself at Nosferatu’s castle-like villa, which is patrolled by a fleet of white Fiats standing in for the more traditional wolves.
Inside, the abode is ultra-mod and ‘70s futuristic (hell, audio commercials play for the furniture you park your ass on) and stands in sharp contrast to the exterior and the surrounding mist-enshrouded forest… and the lord of the manse is every bit as bizarre; a man of refined taste, modern thinking, and totally… and I mean totally devotion capitalism and the need to control it thoroughly via any means necessary.
Before long Nosferatu begins making offers of a promotion to president of the company… a role Al was literally born to fulfill, but will Al survive his weekend work retreat, or will he simply become more blood to lubricate the gears of the capitalist machine?!
Corrado Farina delivers an absolute fever-dream of a tale with They Have Changed Their Face.
For example, late in the film we are treated to a commercial for the legal sale of LSD to the public via one of Nosferatu’s subsidaries… a commercial that features the sexual sadism of none other than the Marquis de Sade, before turning insanely upbeat… this alone is a mini-masterpiece within the larger framework of one of the most interesting vampire films I have ever laid my eerie eyeballs upon!
Advertisements also add to the aesthetics and become the dialog to sex scenes in a bold move that just hits so hard, especially today (how little things have changed since the early ‘70s, eh my cats n’ creeps?)
Also intoxicating is the constant battle between the modern day and more traditional, folk horror trappings. There is no doubt Nosferatu is an actual vampire; a suitably Gothic trip to the tombs located on the grounds bears this out… but while our antagonist is a creature of myth, he’s adjusted his ways to thrive in a world gone mad with commercialism. It’s a fascinating conceit and offers an unwavering opinion that corporations are truly the vampires of today; slowly draining their victim’s wallets instead of their blood… but the fact that monsters exist among us remains.
For my money though the presence of Deep Red’s Geraldine Hooper adds immeasurably to the surreal nature of this production as Nosferatu’s aide, Corinna; a semi “Dracula’s Bride” surrogate… ethereally beautiful while being unconventional in appearance, totally sexed-up, and unafraid of power and her place in how it’s wielded.
Speaking of adding to the film’s appeal, there are some choice special features present here including a duo of audio commentaries; a subtitled chat with Farina who takes us through the film’s production, and an engaging scholarly analysis of the film and it’s themes courtesy of Author Kat Ellinger. Both are indispensable sources of info on how this one-of-a-king fright flick came to be!
Also included are interviews with Film Critic Alberto Farina (Corrado’s son), as well as Actor Esperati & Editor/Screenwriter Giulio Berruti, a series of outtakes from the previously mentioned de Sade sequence, and collections of Farina’s short films (which definitely informed the creation of They Have Changed Their Face), short-subject documentaries (which runs nearly nintey-minutes total), and commercials (fitting enough given the main event’s narrative).
As a side-note, the film is presented in the best condition as could be sourced from the only remaining print, and begins with a disclaimer regarding the color saturation of the picture… but honestly the de-saturation is gorgeous in my eyes and adds even more to the cold, late Autumnal vibe of the piece.
Last up in the collection is 1972’s The Devil’s Lover…
Helga (Italian genre pic mainstay Rosalba Neri) and her two gal pals head out on a road trip. Their destination? Why an opulent, remote, ancient castle rumored to be owned by The Devil himself!
Before long, Helga sees her face in a painting hanging within the castle’s walls which causes her to have a lengthy dream where she is back in the 16th century livin’ the peasant life and betrothed to strappin’ lad Hans (Ferdinando Poggi)… but her wedding dress gets contaminated, which is a horrible omen for her upcoming nuptials.
Thankfully the local witch has a way to make things right, and instructs our heroine to traipse off to hill where condemned men are hung with two of her virgin friends… seems normal enough.
As no one would naturally expect, Helga’s pals are taken forcefully to a sex cave where fucking is had, both straight and lesbian, before H-dawg sees her friends bodies delivered to a small, rural cemetery by hooded figures, one of which has been appearing (and disappearing) around town. I’m going to go out on a limb here and say this probably isn’t helping her problem any…
Nor is the fact that her pals re-appear as vampires… or the machinations of comely Magda (Maria Teresa Pingitore) who desires Hans for herself and is not above using witchcraft to get her way… admittedly a common occurrence in this place.
By the time the diabolical Gunther (Edmund Purdom, Pieces, 2019: After the Fall of New York) makes the scene and gives Helga the freedom to do as she pleases both in society and sexually (including murder) it may already too late for our heroine to be redeemed… or is her liberation her redemption?
Writer/Director Paolo Lombardo’s The Devil’s Lover is a delightfully surreal adult fairy tale, filled with colorful period costumes, naked flesh, plenty of supernatural goings-on, and that ol’ fav, sex!
The “surreal” bit both works to the film’s advantage as far as strangeness is concerned, and makes sense narrative-wise given the dream-driven premise of the picture. Characters come and go at random, the preternatural does as it pleases, and everyone appears as a slightly askew version of what we would expect from a fairy tale… the aesthetics of which is only magnified by the gorgeous, Autumnal rural settings.
The picture’s greatest asset however is Neri, a woman unafraid to do what it takes to make her desires come true, yet she is far from a villain (despite what some of her actions suggest). She’s strong, sexually liberated, and completely mesmerizing as a woman well ahead of her time (given the time period the main story takes place in) society wise.
All of the beauty above is only accentuated by the transfer utilized here. The picture here is beautiful, with stunning clarity and eye-popping color (Note: a blink of black frames does exist, and is explained by a text card at the film’s start).
Adding to the experience is an immensely enjoyable audio commentary from Annie Ross Malamet of the Girls, Guts, and Giallo podcast (who discusses the films concepts and themes, and examines the picture from the Queer perspective), a video essay examining Neri’s feminism across various genre roles, and an interview with Actor Robert Woods (who portrays, Helmuth, one corner of what becomes a love quadrangle between Helga, Hans, Magda, and himself).
The film’s charming yet mysterious soundtrack courtesy of composer Elvio Monti is also included here on a separate CD.
Filled to bursting with psychotronic imagery, “modern” and Gothic aesthetics a-plenty, and tons of haunted happenings; Danza Macabra Volume 2 is an absolute must own for lovers of bizarre takes on tried and true Gothic themes!
