Tuesday, September 26, 2017

Terror Creatures from the Grave / 5 tombe per un medium (1965)

The onset of the Halloween season this year has really put me on a black-and-white horror kick for some reason. I’m looking forward to checking out some classics I haven’t seen yet, such as City of the Dead (1960) and Eyes Without a Face (1960), and revisiting some favorites like Carnival of Souls (1962) and Night of the Living Dead (1968).

I used to approach black-and-white movies apprehensively, thinking that they would likely be a boring chore to sit through. I missed out on discovering a lot of classics when I was younger with this mindset, a mindset that surprises me considering that I had always been able to enjoy black-and-white TV-shows as a kid like Lassie and The Three Stooges, which happened to give me the false perception that the world must’ve been in black-and-white back then. I had always preferred color, but nowadays I really have no preference. There’s something both oppressive and romantic about black-and-white cinematography, a separate experience with its own charm that I don’t think is inferior to color cinematography. What finally gave me a taste for black-and-white film and caused me to not see it as a diminished experience due to technological limitation was Mario Bava’s Black Sunday (1960), which also turned my interest to the black-and-white Italian horrors of the ‘60s that I probably would’ve had no interest in otherwise.


Though not all of them are black-and-white, I really enjoyed exploring and collecting what I referred to as Barbara Steele epics from the ‘60s. There isn’t one I dislike; I even have a soft spot for Terror Creatures from the Grave, what seems to me to be considered one of the lesser of the Barbara Steele epics, likely because Barbara Steele isn’t in it very often and isn’t playing the good and evil dual roles she is remembered for. She makes all of her scenes count nonetheless with every one of her appearances being a high point that leaves you wanting more of her.


Apparently, the film’s director Massimo Pupillo was unsatisfied with the finished film, so he gave directing credit to co-producer Ralph Zucker. People had thought Ralph Zucker was a pseudonym for Pupillo for the longest time, but they were two different people. As I understand it, Ralph Zucker did direct a couple different violent death scenes that show up in the English version of the film but not in the Italian version 5 tombe per un medium, which is the movie’s original title and is the version I’m talking about; I’ve just known it as Terror Creatures from the Grave for so long.


Massimo Pupillo only directed three horror films, all of which were in 1965 that do make up a kind of gothic horror trilogy in their own right, Terror Creatures from the Grave, Bloody Pit of Horror, and The Vengeance of Lady Morgan. I personally recommend all three. (someone really should get to work on a Blu-ray box set).
  
Terror Creatures does have a clever mystery plot going for it that borrows heavily from The Third Man (1949) for its core premise, but what it might lack in originality it makes up for in style, eeriness, atmosphere, and a completely different ending than its source inspiration. It also doesn’t feel as much like a clone in the story department of its gothic horror contemporaries.



The story is set in April in the year 1911. A lawyer, Albert (Walter-Italian Dracula-Brandi) receives a letter from a Dr. Jeronimus Hauff summoning his business partner Joseph Morgan (Riccardo Garrone) to a shunned villa in a remote region in order to draw up his Last Will and Testament. Joseph is away, so Albert answers the call in his place. After travelling to the villa, he’s surprised to learn that Jeronimus had been dead for nearly a year, despite the letter he received having the official seal of Jeronimus, a seal which had been buried with the body. It is related to Albert from Jeronimus’s widow, Cleo (Barbara Steele), that Jeronimus had fallen down the long narrow stairwell in the villa to his death. Being present at the time of his death, five people, purported to be Jeronimus’s friends, signed the death certificate. Those particular people are dying gruesomely under mysterious circumstances, one by one. One of the signatures is illegible which constitutes a mysterious fifth person who needs to be warned and who could possibly be the key to solving the mystery (the fifth man?).



With an intriguing enough mystery plot in place, the narrative does also take a supernatural direction with plenty of old-fashioned scares but also some interesting special effects and themes, such as a few precursor zombie visuals that did make me think of Tombs of the Blind Dead (1972) and some nice makeup effects of up-close face sizzling and pulsating skin lesions.

The ghosts are portrayed with simple shadow effects, but the established haunting does create a convincing sense of dread. While the buildup is slow, the climax to when all hell breaks loose feels worth the wait. The conclusion is not too shocking, confusing, or unpredictable, just clever, with everything coming together and a feel-good immersive rainy closeout scene that I’m fond of since I enjoy the rain.



Walter Brandi, smoking most of the time (even during dinner), as Albert the lawyer is a rather plain lead hero but not unlikable. He isn’t charismatic at all, just an average Joe; although he seems like a nice guy. He doesn’t seem to have as much energy here as he does in Vampire and the Ballerina (1960), but perhaps he was going for the calm, cool-headed but also bewildered investigator type.


Barbara Steele as usual is given an evocative introduction, this time while having her beauty relaxation in her mansion with a creamy cosmetic face-mask pasted on that’s a far cry from the executioner mask in Black Sunday. She wipes away the mask to reveal her supernatural beauty, as if the film is unmasking and revealing its main attraction.


Our dear friend Luciano Pigozzi is on hand lurking around the villa and its grounds, doing what he does, as the suspicious, quiet gardener, Kurt. He’s great at lurching around, but he does get a few moments to shine outside of his comfort zone. Since Pigozzi is one of those actors you see so often in these films, he’s kind of like an old friend. The villa and the land in this film are so well tended for, it’s hard to believe Kurt keeps it that way all by himself.


On Albert’s first night at the villa an appropriately timed thunderstorm draws in (I do love the cozy contrast of the windy storm outside the villa and the peaceful calm inside). Albert ends up staying in Jeronimus’s old room. There’s something creepy about sleeping in the room of a deceased occultist who made contact with the spirits of the dead. I doubt I’d get much sleep.


A real nice touch that gets me every time happens during a beautifully framed shot when Albert, holding the candelabrum with lit candles, stands outside of a pitch-black doorway and walks into a room that lights up when Albert enters, a symbolic way of shining a light on the villa’s secrets.

The customary dinner table scene here is a real beauty, with lovely lit candles, a smoking fireplace, glasses of red wine, a raging thunderstorm outside that’s hardly noticeable indoors, and an elegant single eyebrow raising Barbara Steele at the head of the table dressed like the princess of hell. It’s what I imagine gothic horror film trope heaven is like. I can’t tell what they’re eating, although I’m always interested in food on screen even if it’s just apples and cut up bananas.



The castle in the movie, posing as a villa, is one I’m quite familiar with. I can’t recall all of the movies I’ve seen it in, but a few that come to mind are OSS-117-Murder for Sale (1968) and Slaughter Hotel (1971). In reality, it is known as Castle Chigi and was built in 1655. In these films, this castle is almost always framed to look isolated, but it actually sits in the middle of an urban park, Castelfusano, near the seaside in the commune of Rome. Even though I’ve never been there in person, like the Castle Piccolomini, it’s kind of a special place to me and no doubt to many other fans of Italian genre film.




I’m not sure if some of the interiors were filmed in a sound studio, but the interior of the actual castle is used in the film and is complete with medieval and gothic décor, these beautiful map and landscape frescoes on the walls as well as a room of broken clocks that you just know are going to start up when the haunting kicks in. 

As for the villa’s back story in the film, it was built in the fifteenth century on a lazaretto ruin, a kind of quarantine for victims of the plague. The history of the lazaretto served Jeronimus’s research. The gruesome history is detailed when Albert plays the phonograph to listen to Jeronimus’s voice recordings of his research on the plague victims and the contaminators. Jeronimus was an occultist who contacted the spirits from when the plague spread in the fifteenth century. The plague was purposefully spread by a few carriers. They were arrested and had their hands cut off. These severed hands were later mummified and framed as a museum exhibit, or as they appear in the villa at present, a wicked home decoration. The bodies of the carriers were buried in a neat little plot next to the villa.



When the plague was spread it contaminated the water, so the idea of pure water becomes the antidote and is introduced in the story as a riddle that is established through a soft but still haunting song. The “pure water” theme song is a melodious and creepy delight in both Italian and English versions. Aside from being an obvious foreshadowing of the story’s resolve, the melody is a recurring musical theme that is also a strong part of the film’s identity.


One of my favorite parts that I always recall is a brief but memorable segment that occurs one night when Albert throws on a phonograph and a child’s voice is heard singing the ‘pure water’ song. Albert looks outside at night to see a ghost girl sitting on the edge of the water bath as the music plays over this simple and effective gothic image. It’s also a little bit epic.


When it gets to the disturbing denouement, you’ll realize this movie isn’t fucking around. The wicked side of humanity is personified with evil, smiling, twitching faces that reminded me of human demons. 

For all its old-fashioned hokeyness, there is still something unnerving and dare I say scary about Terror Creatures from the Grave. Even though the threat is off screen it still manages to be rather imposing. There’s a shot of the villa at one point after it is suggested that spirits are haunting the place that is probably one of the creepiest establishing shots I’ve seen in a while. I think it’s a well-done ghost movie with an intriguing enough mystery story. Many, as I did, will come for Barbara Steele, and I think she honestly delivers, especially during her freak-out moment at the end that’s another one of my favorite parts. It’s no Castle of Blood (1964), and it does have its slow, talky (and some not so talky) parts, but it’s still a relaxing, chill movie with plenty of atmosphere that will work when you’re in the mood for black-and-white, as my grand mom says, spook-a-roos. But most importantly, by the end, I’m sure you’ll agree that Terror Creatures from the Grave was a good time. 

© At the Mansion of Madness 



    

Thursday, August 3, 2017

Fruit of Paradise / Ovoce stromů rajských jíme (1970)

After realizing film was her true calling, the first lady of Czech cinema Věra Chytilová enrolled in the Film and TV School of the Academy of Performing Arts in Prague (FAMU) in 1957. At the time, she was the only woman at the school and was faced with resistance. She was pushed back, but she wanted to direct and had ambitions to make different kinds of movies. Chytilová recalls potentially upsetting the directors at the academy when she told them the reason she wanted to study was because she didn’t like the films they made, feeling that they were predictable and arranged. When the Academy wanted to throw her out, it was a major blow for her that resulted in depression and a suicide attempt. She ultimately resisted being driven out and graduated, in the process directing successful medium length films Ceiling (1961) (of which she also wrote) and A Bagful of Fleas (1962). A Bagful of Fleas and her first feature length film as director Something Different (1963) both won film critics awards.
  
Chytilová married cinematographer Jaroslav Kucera (Morgiana 1972); they worked well together and collaborated on The Restaurant the World (1965), Daisies (1966), and Fruit of Paradise (1970).
  
Daisies is Chytilová’s most popular and well-known film. It is a staple in the Czech New Wave movement that’s a fun, technically impressive film with an unconventional narrative about two young, disorderly female leads sticking-it-to-the-man, with copious amounts of style and entertainment ensuing. The movie is supposed to be a cautionary tale on the consequences of destructive behavior, but for me, it’s one of those films you fall in love with and get hooked on.

Wednesday, June 7, 2017

Mania (1974)

When it comes to the unique definitive Renato Polselli experience of histrionics, eroticism, violence, and sadomasochism, movies like Delirium (1972), The Reincarnation of Isabel (1972), and even The Truth According to Satan (1972) are the best examples of Polselli films that have created a small but loyal fanbase. These have long been some of my favorite cult films, but I also adore the romantic black and white early Italian horror efforts from Polselli The Vampire and the Ballerina (1960) and The Monster of The Opera (1964). The seed for this auteur’s characteristic style of madness and set spectacles was planted in Monster of the Opera, the film itself still planted in the fun dance-meets-classic-monsters gimmick featured in Vampire and the Ballerina, but something wildly unhinged was taking shape. The entertaining delirium, screaming mad characters, and disorienting editing that is Polselli’s signature would essentially be fully realized in Delirium and Reincarnation, but for the longest time there was a missing piece of the filmography that Polselli fans were literally deprived of for many, many years, a once lost film called Mania.

Sanitized by the censors and given a limited theatrical run in 1974, Mania quickly disappeared and was long considered lost until a 35-mm print surfaced in 2007 in a film archive in Rome, Cinema Trevi – Cineteca Nazionale. It was going to be released on DVD by No Shame soon after, but they went out of business before that could happen. Miraculously a crude version of Mania showed up on YouTube without English subtitles back in September of last year. Thankfully, just recently, Terence linked me to a decent version with subs (which is also now on YouTube), and I honestly now feel like a significant void in my life has been filled.

Sunday, April 16, 2017

Byleth – Il demone dell’incesto (1972)

I’m not much in to demonology; I only remember a couple names of demonic entities off the top of my head, like Beelzebub, Belial, and Astaroth, but I had only heard about the demon Byleth in reference to the Italian horror film Byleth – The Demon of Incest (1972), and with the title to go off of, I pretty much thought of Byleth as some sort of ghastly, incest inducing demon. I tried to look in to it a little, but other than this film, I found very little relating Byleth to incest. The connection of the theme of incest to Byleth in this film is perhaps more in reference to the belief that the demonically possessed display sexually deviant behavior. 

As far as lore goes, the demon Byleth (sometimes spelled Beleth or Bilet) is a monarch of Hell and a fallen angel. He rides a pale horse and commands eighty-five legions of demons. The sounds of trumpets and melodies precedes his presence when he is conjured. His pale horse suggests he could possibly be one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, Death.

When summoned, Byleth will test the courage and worthiness of the conjuror by appearing most intimidating, frightful, and extremely pissed off, and if they are too inexperienced and unprepared, the ritual will likely result in the conjuror’s death (although it’s said that Byleth can be softened with a bottle of wine). If through all manner of advanced esoteric ritual, they manage to subdue Byleth, he reveals his true form, which is supposed to be that of a beautiful young girl who has the power to make someone fall in love, kind of like a love genie.

Thursday, February 23, 2017

The Devil’s Wedding Night / Il plenilunio delle vergini (1973)

For me, The Devil’s Wedding Night is kind of like a Dracula movie but with Rosalba Neri playing Dracula, which is just a prepossessing idea. However, that’s not quite what it is, as it plays more like a spinoff, fanfic, or sequel to Dracula, where Count Dracula is the stuff of legend, with his power being the focus of archeological research. It’s interesting that in the film’s story Edgar Allan Poe seems to be an upcoming new sensation, which sets it around the first half of the 19th century, making it predate the events in Bram Stoker’s novel that occur around the 1890s. So, The Devil’s Wedding Night could actually be a prequel to Dracula. I mean, who was that mysterious smirking man in the woods, at the tavern, and on the castle grounds we kept seeing? The mysterious man is a nice touch who’s most likely a servant to the ring, but there’s nothing ruling out that he could have been Dracula the whole time, perhaps a powerless Dracula who needs the black mass wedding ceremony to be reborn.

Tuesday, February 21, 2017

Help for a Friend in Need

A dear friend of mine has fallen on to hard times and is in danger of losing her job now that her car has broken down. It’s looking to be a costly clutch repair. I’ve never asked for any money in the past for my work here, but please, if anyone has appreciated anything I’ve written on this site, the best tip to me would be to help my friend with a GoFundMe donation by clicking HERE or on the image above.

Thanks,
Gio

Thursday, January 12, 2017

Manhattan Baby (1982)

Manhattan Baby marks the end of an era, which was Lucio Fulci’s most prolific filmmaking period that included classics such as Zombie (1979), The Gates of Hell (1980), The Beyond (1981), and The House by the Cemetery (1981). This isn’t to say these were Fulci’s best films; they were just some of the most commercially successful, not to mention big hits with the general horror audience. 

With Fulci being synonymous with gore, zombies, and various sorts of gateways to hell, viewer expectations of Manhattan Baby were probably different than what they got, as it abandons the gothic, supernatural zombie film altogether. It was scriptwriter Dardano Sacchetti’s attempt at moving away from what he considered conventional horror, to try and close up the gates of hell and open new gates of time and space. Although there are obvious influences from The Exorcist (1973) and The Awakening (1980) (and surprising similarities to Poltergeist which came out the same year), Sacchetti wanted to create something different, and for the most part he succeeded.

Saturday, December 3, 2016

Something Creeping in the Dark / Qualcosa striscia nel buio (1971)

Mario Colucci’s Something Creeping in the Dark has been off the radar for a long time. I didn't even know about it until recently, and this is the kind of stuff I live for. This might be because it is rather mediocre in certain aspects, some might even say a little boring if this isn't your kind of thing. It's a curious little low-key Italian horror, and even though it's not that scary or original, it has its creepy moments. The ambiance and familiar setting is comforting if you’re in the mood for this type of movie. Also on the plus side, all the genre traditions we know and love are here: séances, portraits, fleeting shades of black magic and the occult, contrived gathering of suspicious characters, spirits, candles, storms, murders, babes, a spooky but marvelous gothic mansion, and night gowns. It really is a beautiful looking gothic thriller despite being routine in the story department, but there’s a lot to chew on with its concept, and there’s so many nice touches that keep it afloat. At times, it’s got a strange charm to it, with near Polselli-like moments with actors looking spaced out, standing around like model figurines.

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