THE WITCH is not only a contemporary tale, it boldly aspires to art rather than common entertainment, originating from a celebrated short novel by Mexican author Carlos Fuentes. Though the film doesn’t make a great show of being anything other than Italian, the witch it presents is of Spanish origin and closely attuned to the character created by Fuentes. Instead of the usual Italian villa found in this genre, the story takes place largely inside a spacious yet claustrophobic Italian apartment as bedecked in art nouveau as the Tanz Akademie in Dario Argento’s SUSPIRIA (1977). These attributes pose major contradictions to this genre yet THE WITCH clings to Italian Gothic through its assertions of morbid agoraphobia, aristocratic privilege, and the tenuous veil separating idle perversions from availability to supernatural intrusions.
If we observe the history of Italian Gothic overall, into its silver and bronze ages, THE WITCH seems an obvious fork in the road that connects Antonio Margheriti & Sergio Corbucci’s CASTLE OF BLOOD (an earlier story of a live character’s interaction with others who are not quite alive nor real) with later examples such as Margheriti’s THE UNNATURALS (Contronatura, 1969), Mario Bava’s LISA AND THE DEVIL (1973), and Luigi Batzella’s NUDE FOR SATAN (Nuda per Satana, 1974). It's an obscure title not easy to accommodate yet it's a key ingredient of what would come along subsequently.
Scripted by Ugo Liberatore (who had a hand in writing Giorgio Ferrani’s MILL OF THE STONE WOMEN, 1960), THE WITCH attends the journey of academic and serial womanizer Sergio Logan (Richard Johnson) as he is inexplicably tempted outside his relationship with Lorna (Margherita Guzzinati) by the curiously persistent presence of an older woman in his orbit. When this curious stranger has the brass to specifically require a man of his explicit description when placing a newspaper ad for a personal librarian, Logan takes the bait to find out more about this human enigma. She identifies herself as Consuelo Forente (Sarah Feratti, at age 55-56 embodying a much older, almost reptilian yet still sensual woman) and she seems to already know everything about Sergio, personally and professionally. She is looking for a man of his precise qualifications to impose order on the library of her late husband, a devotée of occult and erotic texts. As a serial womanizer who knows the fair sex well, he picks up on an unpleasant sexual vibe from the aging Signora, whose preservation under glass of the remains of her dead husband is only the first of her many surprises. Sergio is determined to walk out on his prospective employment… until Consuelo introduces him to her smoldering, smoky-gazed daughter, Aura (Rossana Schiaffino). To make a long and involving dance more perfunctory, Aura succeeds in baiting Sergio, even though he is exposed to a strobing warning sign embodied by fellow tenant Fabrizio (Gian Maria Volonté), a tragic, broken man who is obviously Sergio’s predecessor in this web of erotic intrigue.
THE WITCH is also notable in the context of GOTHIC FANTASTICO as the only film in which the actors were allowed to be credited under their actual professional names. Though Richard Johnson was British, all the other cast members were Italian and their honest billing points to the fact that this film was aiming higher than the exploitation market. All four of the film’s primary performances are first-rate, with Johnson’s gaining a certain resonance from his earlier casting as the rational core of Robert Wise’s THE HAUNTING (1961). It's tempting to declare that Volonté steals the film as he brings much more to his performance than would have been scripted, but the whole house of cards would have collapsed without the pas de deux portrayals of Ferrati and Schiaffino, each with a cobra-like fascination in its own right.
Made in the immediate wake of THE THIRD EYE, THE WITCH finds Damiani advancing beyond the lewd raciness that got Guerrini’s hand slapped, by patiently orchestrating a more erotic Italian Gothic cinema, which was forgiven in part by its art-house pretensions and also its imaginative and tasteful execution; at one point, Aura decides that she and Sergio should undress one another without using their hands - and in another scene, Fabrizio works out his mounting tensions with Aura by fencing with her. You may notice that the film is visually designed to lead the viewer, like Sergio, around by the nose through the sensuous choreography of its camera movement and the gestures and body language of its characters, particularly those played by Ferrati and Schiaffino, the story’s conjurors. In this way, DP Leonida Barboni (who would die only four years later, in 1970) shows the influence of the younger Gianna di Venanzo (EVA, 8 1/2, L’ECLISSE), who had died at the much younger age of only 45 as THE WITCH was being made in early 1966. The film is also notable for its interest in the sensual life of aging bodies, which later became a particular hallmark of the films of another Spanish master, José Ramón Larraz.
Mark Thompson Ashworth’s introduction admits that THE WITCH was the only film in this set that he felt challenged his confidence to properly discuss it. Indeed, while the film’s few extras acknowledge the picture’s ambition and ambiguity, and have much to say about its relationship to the other three movies, they fall somewhat short of engaging with the movie’s own bracing uniqueness - but this isn't to say they offer no food for thought.
Kat Ellinger's commentary encompasses multitudes of cinematic/literary forebears and parallels; she relates the film not only to Italian Gothic traditions but also Damiani’s earlier work (such as THE EMPTY CANVAS/La noia, 1964) and the more morbid highlights of American noir cinema, particularly Billy Wilder’s SUNSET BOULEVARD (1950). She also discusses the Fuentes novella but only in brief, preferring to leave listeners to the experience of discovering for themselves the interesting ways it varies from the film. While she summons any number of other valid reference points, from Huysman’s AU REBOURS to Losey’s EVA (a very apt catch), the film’s own constantly morphing, mercurial nature doesn’t allow her the time to fully explore the many avenues of thought opened up by these connections. Consequently, there are times where we find ourselves being told about far more familiar films (for example, Don Siegel’s THE BEGUILED or Tony Scott's THE HUNGER) rather than THE WITCH itself. Ellinger also touches on the Damiani film’s curious distinction of being mistaken by many viewers (and cataloguers) as a straightforward drama rather than as the accomplished genre film it is, which may well be why such an accomplished film remains so little-known among the genre's fans. Also included are a 24m 25s video essay by author and academic Miranda Corcoran (which goes deeply into the history of Witchcraft before coming round to the topic at hand), and another vigorous on-camera dissection of the film by Antonio Tentori.
Rounding out this rewarding four-disc set are an 80-page illustrated book containing some sharp new writing by Roberto Curti, Rob Talbot, Jerome Reuter, Rod Barnett and Kimberly Lindbergs. So little has been written in-depth about these films in English that the booklet is a real treat, though it feels a trifle over-illustrated. Also included is a reversible folded mini-poster reproduction of the Italian poster art for HORROR and THE THIRD EYE.
The set and booklet were produced by Kat Ellinger and Michael Mackenzie and the restorations were supervised by James White and James Pearcey.
Amazon is presently offering GOTHIC FANTASTICO at 50% off here.
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