Remember way back to like last week (approx.) when I put a revoltin’ review upon Severin’s second collection of Italian Gothic fright flicks, Danza Macabra Volume 2? Well, it took so long for my arcane as to talk about that set, that a whole new third volume has been conjured forth… this time with a change of scenery as we’re going to Spain baby!
First up, Disc One contains 1971’s Necrophagus…
Aristocrat Michael Sherrington (Bill Curran) heads back to the town in which his wife Elizabeth has expired after an emergency cesarean to remove her dead fetus… seems wholesome enough so far…
Once there he goes sleuthin’ around the place seeking answers about just how his wife died… but beyond the basics, the whole town seems rather tight-lipped (and downright sinister) about the whole, sordid affair… especially family physician Dr. Lexter (Frank Braña) and cemetery caretaker Mr. Fowles (Víctor Israel), as well as Michael’s in-laws and his mother, Lady Anne (Catherine Ellison).
To make matters worse, his brother is missing, and his family’s fortune is dwindling… and when our hero takes it upon himself to dig Liz up, her body is nowhere to be seen in her grave. And directly after that revelation Michael is accosted by masked and cloaked figures who put a whipppin’ on his ass, as well as throwing him into a tomb populated by a flesh eating ghoul… a tomb that is also the new resting place of Elizabeth’s now-severed head!
Will the mystery be solved before more townsfolk get eaten? Probably not.
Writer/Director Miguel Madrid delivers a Neo-Gothic mind-fuck with Necrophagus that is as unforgettable as it is incoherent…
Often dreamlike and chronologically unhinged, the narrative here is nothing short of fever-dream material. The screen is frequently filled with haze-shrouded images, castles illuminated by Golden Hour waning sunlight, and snow-swept landscapes that only enhance the tried and true Gothic tropes (dark family secrets, ancient yet at one time grande abodes, there’s even a scene of digging up graves in a thunderstorm… in winter…
As the narrative jumps back and forth among the sequence of events that comprise the monstrous mystery at hand the atmosphere only becomes thicker and thicker with the female members of Michael’s family constantly dressed completely in black as they move through the countryside like a coven of witches, strange medical experiments, and of course… a monster!
Speaking of that brutal beast, it’s seen only briefly until the grand finale (and even there the creature is elusive)… but don’t you believe the promo art as to it’s appearance (it’s portrayed as both a hulking, scaly lizard man, and a gnarly ghoul respectively), as in the film he looks like a glorious combination of It! The Terror from Beyond Space and Old Gregg; an intoxicating whirlwind of dubious make-up, razor sharp fangs, and assorted aquarium faux-greenery.
Along with all of that groovy ghastly goodness, Severin have provided special features to enhance our appreciation of this surreal monsterpiece, starting with an audio commentary from Andy Marshall-Roberts, host of the Nasty Pasty Podcast, who discusses the film’s themes, aesthetics, and history in a highly listenable conversation.
Also included are an appreciation of the film courtesy of Ángel Sala, the Head of Programming at the Sitges Film Festival (where the film had it’s premier in 1971), a remembrance of said festival by Maria Pilar Rafáles (daughter of Sitges Film Festival founder, Antonio Rafáles), and a duo of trailers for the film (under the titles The Butcher of Binbrook (even though the V.O. still calls it Necrophagus), and Graveyard of Horror respectively).
Moving on to Disc Two we receive a real terror taste treat with Cake of Blood, an arcane anthology also from ‘71…
Because who the fuck has time for wrap-around stories anyway, we tumble ass over tea-kettle into our first story, José María Vallés, Tarot, which concerns the quest undertaken by a caballero (Julián Ugarte, All the Colors of the Dark) to discover the meaning behind a murder committed by strange, hooded cloak wearing figures in Spain circa 1,000 A.D..
Along the way he becomes infatuated with an eternally slumbering maiden in a ruined castle, and encounters a strange man-child named Jeremidas (an unforgettable performance from Martí Galindo)… and then things get really weird…
At times ugly and grim, and at others as beautiful as a Renaissance painting by way of Basil Gogos, Tarot is a very dark fairy tale brought to poetic and surreal life; filling the screen with mysterious forests, ancient ruins, gorgeous costumes, outre characters, fever-dream imagery, and frantic (and at times near-hallucinogenic) editing.
Following Tarot we get Emilio Martínez Lázaro’s Victor Frankenstein…
Shortly after the creation of his Creature (Eusebio Poncela in a dynamically physical performance), Victor Frankenstein (Ángel Carmona Ristol) returns home to visit his mother on her death-bed where he promises her he will marry long-time pseudo-sister Elizabeth (Marisa Paredes), whom the family took in when she was young… and is currently runnin’ a bit cold on Vic… but what the hey, they get hitched anyway.
Then he delivers a message that his friend will be arriving… treat his ass right, yadda, yadda… then he books his ass out of there.
Of course the “friend” is Victor’s creation who is mute, ungainly in his stride, and is quickly learning the ins and outs of being a human-type… and since we are violent-as-fuck, the Creature soon learns violence is pretty A-OK… which is fortunate as Frankenstein has charged his creation with raining down a murder maelstrom back home sweet home.
Will the Monster’s lust for murder be replaced with… well regular ol’ lust of the horny variety, and how will Victor take the change of heart?
Lázaro offers a unique take on Mary Shelley’s absolute horror classic, Frankenstein, and gives the entire affair a hefty dose of amped-up kinkiness throughout with the randy denizens of Frankenstein’s home teaching the monster a quick lesson in love (before it flips to the opposite side of the creepy coin) and palpable homoerotic overtones between the demented doctor and his beautiful creation.
That last bit about the Creature being “beautiful” while being a fresh(ish) take on the whole affair, may turn off monster lovin’ folk due to a lack of a more terrifying patchwork man shambling about.. but given the more romantic, and at times nearly Shakespearean overtones present in the narrative, a bit of a more refined creature than is normal is required.
As imagined, the story here takes plenty of liberties with the established yarn, but the over-all themes of the piece are nailed here perfectly with the Creature being as innocent as an infant, albeit an infant imbued with the strength of a man… and Victor being corrupted by the science he wields with suitably morbid results.
Next up is a real Roman Holiday with Francesc Bellmunt’s Terror Among Christians…
In the time of Nero, two fugitives from the Roman Empire, one a recent convert to Christianity (which as we know went over like a fart in a submarine in Ancient Rome) and a Celt flee through a forest before making camp in a location very near the site where a bunch of Romans put a murder on roughly 200 Celt children. I’m sure this will be an uneventful night…
It isn’t… in fact it’s quite lousy with vampires just itchin’ to give our heroes a fang bang they’ll never forget!
Beautifully shot, hazy and dreamlike, erotic… all of these apply to this segment… and it truly rocks except for one sequence where we are treated to a yellow room substituting for Rome in which people shoot the shit while a naked woman dances, two greasy dudes ‘rassle, and a pig gets it’s throat cut on screen. I mean, I get the imagery in regards to the upcoming trials our heroes face, but seriously… what the actual fuck dude?!! Also there’s your warning if you’re sensitive to such material.
Overall though this was a fun, often delightfully sleazy and disgusting (except for that damn pig, that was just plain disgusting… no delight there), and (most importantly) unique takes on the vampire mythos I’ve come across in a long while.
Last up we have Jaime Chávarri’s The Dance, or Emotional Survivals…
Local pervert El vagabundo (Luis Ciges) watches an incredibly color-coordinated woman, Ana (Romy) by name, lollygagging about through a pirate’s spyglass… for one, how the hell does she not see this completely ridiculous individual; he’s a ratty bum noshing on some (what appears to be) fish ‘n fuckin’ chips while drinking an entire bottle of wine pretending to be Long John Silver… and, two, why is he spying on her anyway, she’s just sitting or occasionally pacing… she farts around with a shovel at some point… but mostly she just sits, smoking a cigarette dangling down her naked feet… oh, okay.
Things get considerably worse for Ana when a strange man (José Lifante) makes the scene and helps that horrible hobo capture and get frisky with our heroine, after which the terrible transient continues to give play rough but soon surprising revelations bring to light a ghastly surprise for our unkempt drifter!
The Dance, or Emotional Survivals sails Cake of Blood straight into E.C. horror comics territory with a tale filled with supernatural vengeance, murder, and all manner of unsavory acts six ways to Sunday… and the best part is it makes for a heady Poe-esque tale thrust into the “mod” age!
The “mod” elements are highlighted by the expressionistic set utilized for Ana’s abode, which is filled with primary-color hued walls that would feel right at home in Beatty’s 1990 adaptation of the comic-strip Dick Tracy, bizarre art, and stark angles… a stunning take on the “old dark house” trope.
This carries through to our heroine herself portrayed to perfection by Romy; a stunningly ethereal, androgynous woman with a dark secret… another delicious early ‘70s Glam version of beloved Gothic character themes.
As with Necrophagus, we get a host of special features including audio commentary featuring NaschyCast’s Rod Barnett and author Dr. Adrian Smith, interviews with actors Paredes and Lifante, and co-director Jaime Chávarri, and another appreciation featurette by Sala.
Disc Three brings us Cross of the Devil from 1974…
19th century author Alfred Dawson (Ramiro Oliveros) is suffering a major case of writer’s block (although his love of good ol’ cannabis probably just made him forget what he wanted to write… I mean it explains the quality of my reviews… I mean technically it’s Kief, which is a powder, but it’s my joke (?) and I’m stickin’ to it!) when he gets a letter from his sister abroad explaining that things aren’t going great in her marriage… so the honey is well and truly off the moon or some such shit.
This puts a wild hair up his ass to go adventuring which results in him discovering that his sister is dead as all hell, but she appears in his nightmares as an undead clue dropper par excellence. Those clues lead our hero through an investigation to deduce if her death was the result of suicide or murder… but believe you me he’ll shit a brick when he finds out the arcane answer!
Originally conceived by Spanish horror legend Paul Naschy (whom you may remember playing wicked werewolf Count Waldemar Daninsky across a series of supernatural shockers, often written and directed by the same, that began with 1968’s The Mark of the Wolfman), but ultimately directed by Hammer mainstay John Gilling (The Reptile, The Mummy’s Shroud), Cross of the Devil is often considered the unofficial fifth entry in Armando de Ossorio’s Blind Dead that began with 1972’s Tombs of the Blind Dead… and I guess if you squint in a few… and I mean a few, mostly eleventh hour, scenes… I could see where one could… generously… make that assumption.
Speaking of Tombs of the Blind Dead, that film was a popular, sequel generating monster machine of a fright flick, and you can bet your ass that film (and the heaps of cash it made) was on Naschy’s mind when he conjured this one forth… and while slightly derivative, Gilling gives this one his all and presents a sumptuous, at times psychotronic, Gothic murder mystery populated by a handsome hero who is often equally concerned with tastefully fucking his traveling companion, Maria (Carmen Sevilla, and her towering, orange-hued bouffant) as he is with engaging in supernatural-tinged sleuthing, a woman who really digs her ruby ring (sounds dirty, but isn’t), a dude that gives off major Jonathan Pryce as Mr. Dark in Something Wicked This Way Comes vibes, drug induced clairvoyant dreams, and… at times… skeletal Knights Templar on horseback, presumably blind.
All of that fever-dream insanity looks freakin’ fantastic thanks to the beautiful, often hazily dream-like, and artistically-sound cinematography of Fernando Arribas that makes both the Victorian splendor and the dank, cold ruins the antagonists haunt look like a million beastly bucks!
To the surprise of no one, there are special features here and they begin with an info-packed commentary track courtesy of Authors Kim Newman and Barry Forshaw that take us through the history of the film and those involved in it’s creation.
This is followed by an interview with Screenwriter Juan José Porto, the now traditional Sala appreciation of the film, and a piece examining the work of author Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer, who’s short stories were utilized in the creation of Cross of the Devil.
Disc Four, the final in the set, features 1975’s The Night of the Walking Dead…
Before I even begin talking about the plot to this one, I have to call attention to the opening credits… a fantastic blend of solarized shots of vampires accompanied by a jangly, discordant electric guitar solo… I loved it and it’s absolutely delightfully out of place nature in a Gothic thriller period piece!
In the 18th century a rural village is mighty nervous about their recently departed returning as blood siphoning monsters. This fun zone is also inhabited by Catherine (Emma Cohen), a despondent young woman who spends her listless days drinking milk and spying on the servants fucking… ahh, the good life…
Her condition only worsens when her beau returns from afar only to be freaked the fuck out by Cat and immediately falling into the busty embrace of another woman, which of course our heroine witnesses due to her uncanny ability to appear where people are screwing.
Her daily routine of wasting away is interrupted when the dashing Count Rudolph (Carlos Ballesteros) asks to weather a storm in her parents grande manse… which in turn leads her to explore the Count’s family’s castle which stands ominously just outside of town, and you can bet your ass that vampire problem has it’s epicenter right there in Castlevania!
Will Catherine be able to resist the fang bangers in her life, or will she become the next child of the night?!!
León Klimovsky (along with screenwriters Juan José Daza and Carlos Pumares, themselves working from a story by Juan Jose Porto) presents a dark fairy tale with plenty of vampire-based romance action, but fret not as we also get some truly surreal, at times bloody shenanigans that make this terror tale come alive!
As the relationship between Catherine and Rudolph grows the vampires go apeshit and begin ravaging the town… along with having a putrid party featuring a sort of human pinata and scads of period inaccurate balloons, and plenty of third act violence.
It’s that dichotomy that keeps this so damn entertaining as romance and grizzly death go hand in horrible hand, nudity abounds, and love and lust (often of the “blood” variety) permeates the narrative to horny and at times horrible effect! It’s poetic, at times sleazy affair that is a Gothic vampire yarn impossible to resist for lovers of the genre!
To supplement the feature we get an ultra-informative audio commentary from author and critic Kat Ellinger, another Sala appreciation, interviews with Porto and actor Jose Lifante, a video essay concerning the history of Spain’s cinematic vampires, and an alternate Spanish credit sequence.
Stylish, dripping with Gothic themes, and at times completely mind-bending; Danza Macabra Vol. 3 contains an irresistible collection of seldom seen, Euro-horror perfection!
