GOTHIC FANTASTICO: FOUR ITALIAN TALES OF TERROR
1963-1966, Arrow Video (UK & US)
Disc One: LADY MORGAN’S VENGEANCE (La vendetta di Lady Morgan, 1965), 86m 1s
Disc Two: THE BLANCHEVILLE MONSTER (Horror, 1963), 88m 07s
Disc Three: THE THIRD EYE (Il terzo occhio, 1966), 87m 07s
Disc Four: THE WITCH aka THE WITCH IN LOVE (La strega in amore, 1966), 109m 22s
With the release of this thematic four-disc set, Arrow Video takes a significant leap toward the complete representation of classic Italian Gothic cinema on disc. If we take all past and present international DVD and Blu-ray releases into account, very little of the genre’s golden age now remains out of reach, the most notable omission being Riccardo Freda’s THE GHOST (Lo spettro, 1963). While the B&W titles collected here aren’t quite front rank material, nor is any directed by one of the genre’s most valuable players, all four are bristling with the stuff that makes this genre so endlessly attractive and fascinating: ornate and often familiar villa settings, potent character casting, rich psychological subject matter, and romantic, often perverse storylines whose recurring motifs, chambers, and corridors suggest mirror reflections into other films and situations.
The films are not presented chronologically, though their chronology is only slightly askew. They start with Massimo Pupillo’s LADY MORGAN’S VENGEANCE, the third and last of a troika of horror pictures directed by Pupillo (as “Max Hunter”) in 1965; it was preceded by TERROR CREATURES FROM THE GRAVE (Cinque per un medium, also by “Hunter”) and BLOODY PIT OF HORROR (Il boia scarlatto, credited to “Ralph Zucker”). It was scripted by Giovanni Grimaldi, who had previously written the important Italian Gothics THE BLANCHEVILLE MONSTER and CASTLE OF BLOOD (Danza macabra, 1964). I suppose all of the films gathered here could be said to hail from the latter days of classic Italian horror, but LADY MORGAN has remained stubbornly and undeservedly obscure; not only was it deprived of a US or UK theatrical or television release, it was never accessorized with an English dub.
It stars Italian Gothic veterans Paul Muller (NIGHTMARE CASTLE), Erika Blanc (KILL, BABY… KILL!) and Gordon Mitchell (BLOOD DELIRIUM) in villainous roles, while the virtuous central character of Lady Susan Blackhouse is played by Barbara Nelli. The young, dark-haired Susan is in love with a young seaman, Pierre Brissac (Michel Forain, pictured above), but her father Sir Neville (Carlo Kechler) has arranged her marriage to another nobleman, Sir Harold Morgan (Muller). When Pierre is lost overboard (in fact, thrown overboard by Harold’s evil associate Roger, played by Mitchell), he is assumed dead and Susan submits to the marriage, so long as she is allowed the time to properly accept Harold as her husband. Naturally, her acceptance ironically coincides with the recovery of Pierre from the sea, his amnesia forestalling things until Harold, Roger, and their icy blonde hypnotist confederate Lillian (Blanc, in a beautifully modulated early performance) have gaslighted the new Lady Morgan into escalating states of self-doubt, induced madness and finally suicidal depression, in hopes of sharing the opulent spoils of the Blackhouse estate.
LADY MORGAN'S VENGEANCE was shot at the same blocky villa later used as the sanatorium setting of Fernando di Leo’s SLAUGHTER HOTEL (La bestia uccide a sangue freddo, 1971), and also, given its use of the name Blackhouse, it could be said to complete a Giovanni Grimaldi trilogy of “Black” supernatural tales with the original Horror version of THE BLANCHEVILLE MONSTER and CASTLE OF BLOOD, which respectively involve the Blackford and Blackwood families, perhaps acknowledging the inspiration of the metaphysical writings of Algernon Blackwood as much as Edgar Allan Poe.
What's most remarkable about LADY MORGAN’S VENGEANCE is its unusual structure, which has the recovered Pierre return to the Blackhouse villa precisely halfway through the film, where Lady Susan greets and seduces him, only to reveal (roughly 17 minutes later) that she is in fact dead, the victim of the three villains who in turn were killed by her vengeance and now haunt the castle as vampires. This sets up an enjoyably wild last act, in which Muller, Blanc and Mitchell portray some of the most unusual vampires ever to be given screen time; there is nothing traditional about them, as they skulk almost comically around in their hollow-eyed bloodthirst, and they beat Udo Kier to the act of lapping up spilled cruor from the cold marble of Italian villa floors by nearly a decade. Ultimately, no one here gets out alive but there is ultimately a heartfelt reunion beyond the grave for Pierre and Susan, so the tragedy resolves in a happy and just ending. Luciano Catenacci (who subsequently played the bald burgomeister Karl in Bava’s KILL, BABY… KILL!, 1966, as “Max Lawrence”) appears in two brief scenes as the Blackhouse family’s doctor.
All three of Pupillo’s horror pictures are good fun, with scenes that offer equal appeal to viewers in search of craft or camp. That said, he was in no way committed to the genre and reportedly abandoned it when approached by a producer who admitted he was told that his script could only be funded if Mario Bava or he agreed to direct it; to Pupillo, this was no compliment. Nevertheless, there is a good deal of craftsmanship here, with all the actors reaching deeply into themselves for their performances—with the exception of Mitchell, whose performance wins one over anyway with its Jack Balance-Level of brazen, face-rattling grotesquerie.
The film was often strikingly photographed by Oberdan Troiani (“Dean Troy,” whose other favorites include THE GIANT OF METROPOLIS, also with Gordon Mitchell, and HERCULES AGAINST THE MOON MEN) and includes some delicious trick shots in which the vampiric ghosts interact with solid victims. It also features the first horror score of Piero Umiliani, who had previously composed the music for Mario Monicelli’s BIG DEAL ON MADONNA STREET (1958) and Mario Bava’s baroque western THE ROAD TO FORT ALAMO (1964). While much of the score is derived from a simple if insistent romantic theme reprised on guitar, harpsichord and with orchestra, the film’s most important scenes are enlivened by some uncanny electronic cues. I also noticed small jabs of familiar, frenzied accompaniment that may have been sampled from another soundtrack. (Riz Ortolani's THE VIRGIN OF NUREMBERG, perhaps?)
It should be mentioned that all four films in this collection have been treated to 2K restorations from their original camera negatives. This doesn’t mean that all four are equal in visual quality, given the variables of cinematography and elements preservation in each case, but they are all better than any other copies in prior circulation. In the case of LADY MORGAN’S VENGEANCE (whose Italian title is subtitled as THE VENGEANCE OF LADY MORGAN onscreen), it's presented in anamorphic 1080p 1.85:1 with Italian audio in mono and optional English subtitles.
The nature of LADY MORGAN’s screenplay and the lurid detail invested by Pupillo allows audio commentator Alexandra Heller-Nicholas to build an academic response to the picture with emphases on its relevance to such timely topics as gaslighting, domestic violence and female agency within Italian Gothic constructs. There’s also a nicely complementary video essay by Kat Ellinger that digs well down below the picture’s surface to prove there is more going on here than mere entertainment. More than twenty minutes are spent in the company of actor Paul Muller (who recalls much of his early adventures in theater and film, but nothing really about the movie at hand—except that he didn’t really enjoy kissing actresses) and a half-hour archival audio interview with the elusive Pupillo, who sounds more humble and cultured than you might expect the director of BLOODY PIT OF HORROR to be. He explains the facts behind his confusing “Ralph Zucker” alias, and also discusses his non-horror filmography. We also get the first of two generous visits with actress Erika Blanc, who looks back on her film career with awe, wonder and no small amount of humor. She recalls that she was still newly married to husband Bruno Gaburro when this film was made, and wasn’t happy about having to kiss Paul Muller and Gordon Mitchell. I was delighted to hear her comments on a fresh viewing of this film, particularly her seasoned admiration for the work she obviously put into her performance as Lillian. A cineromanzo fumetti comic of the film, originally published in the April 1971 issue of SUSPENSE, is also included, along with a modest image gallery.
NEXT UP: THE BLANCHEVILLE MONSTER!
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