Italian Horror Larks

 

Italian Horror Larks

by Kristin Battestella

This Italian trio from decades of yore provides heaps of horror atmosphere along with camp genre cliches and entertaining late night winks.

The Devil's Nightmare – Unsettling black and white World War II raids and newborn sacrifices open this 1971 French language Italian co-production before the color present explains our Baron's family curse. Pleasant daylight scenery, nature sounds, and turret photography lead to an unseen attack, screams, and bodies bearing the devil's mark before a creepy gardener directs a tour bus to the Baron's castle to wait out the stormy night. The cranky couple, sharing babes, angry old man, driver obsessed with food, and novice priest each have rooms with diabolic succubus history to match our seven deadly sins metaphors. While the Baron's below in his mad science laboratory with colorful beakers, skeletons, and torches; the babes chill in their underwear and a saucy bathtub scene ensues. Oral implications befit the succubus legends, for our bus driver has food hidden in his suitcase and is always seen consuming something. Spiral staircases and creepy organ music accent the talk of an ancestor selling her soul to Satan – not that such tales spoil our glutton's appetite or the arrival of a beautiful red haired guest in a slinky cutout frock. The Baron offers to show them his alchemy lab, and our assembly judges each other over their hobbies and infidelities during dessert. No power or telephones lead to candlelit tunnels and illicit in the dark despite blood dripping from the ceiling and dead animals. The guillotine and iron maiden in the attic come in handy amid barking dogs and tempting visions that appear more and more undressed. The bewitching lures of the feast and medieval tortures are increasingly unique and chilling with phallic impalement and snakes. Upside down, alluring reflections in the wine glass and bathing in gold dust greed reveal the true demon gaunt – a gory visage upon each choking, drowning, and head chopping. Although this is a little long or in need of a tighter pace and we've seen similar plots before and since; the fatal, entertaining seductions do what they say on the tin. Debates with the priest on who deserved to die for their sins begat fencing mishaps, devilish black carriages, deals to avoid damnation signed in blood, and a fiery finish.

Slaughter of the Vampires – Similar titles, varying releases dates, differing run times, and English dubbing on this black and white aka Curse of the Blood Ghouls can be confusing. Fortunately, the melodramatic score matches the 19th century Austrian torches and village mobs as our vampire leaves his fallen toothy bride behind to be finished off by the pitchforks. Newlyweds Wolfgang and Louise subsequently move into his castle and celebrate the fixer upper with grand hoop skirt balls and piano recitals that inadvertently wake our vampire in the wine cellar. Humorous biddies waver between if the newly arrive unknown count is fascinating or sinister, but he's watching Louise disrobe in front of the window before whooshing in for a nibble. The clueless doctor suggests calling in “Professor Nietzsche” from Vienna for the inevitable blood transfusion, but unnecessarily long transitions with back and forth, incidental exposition are pointless padding. Even the servants waste time saying there's no time to waste! The adult Louise also still has a governess telling her it's time to stop swinging on the swings with the gardener's daughter, and fun sound effects heralding the vampire's hypnotic influence embrace the over the top goofiness. Every man treats Louise like a child except the vampire offering eternal passion through their throbbing blood, and the wispy frocks drop lower and lower on the bosom. Now Louise wants to sample her Wolfgang, and the orgasmic sound he makes when she bites him is hysterical. Despite trite surprises, billowing curtains, and tolling bells as Nietzsche runs around trying to find the vampire's coffin; the saving women from evil and protecting children from contamination arguments suggest a deeper statement. Of course, social commentary is not the point here, and the vampire obviously peaking out from behind that fake tree faces crosses and stakes in a rushed finale with creepy kids and crypt skulls for good measure. It's bemusing how today's silly low budget knockoffs come off so wrong, but this period piece Italian production indulges in every delicious moment and owns it.

Witchery – Dreams of colonial chases and rainbow witch talismans haunt Linda Blair (The Exorcist) and David Hasselhoff (Baywatch) in this 1988 Italian produced Massachusetts tale. We know Hoff's a photographer documenting our dilapidated hotel because he wears a big old camera around his neck, however his virginal girlfriend is more interested in spooky spell books recounting past curses – leaving horny Hoff on the floor in a sleeping bag. They're on the scenic New England island without permission, and the first twenty minutes wastes time repeatedly restarting when dialogue provides all we need to know about the snobbish family interested in buying the hotel. They arrive with an idiot real estate agent, a sexy restoration architect, and a precocious kid, because of course. Everyone's stranded for the night thanks to a storm, and the cobwebbed congestion leads to dumbwaiter perils, black tub water, and kaleidoscope visions. Red nails, red shoes, and bright blood lead to metaphysical gateways where our transported victims witness boiling cauldrons and witches eating babies. Mouths sewn shut with a slow, demented needle and bodies in the fireplace mishaps result in gross flesh and unbeknownst complaints that the burning wood smells funny. Our mainland sheriff and superstitious fishermen are reluctant to brave local legends and storm waters, but people in the next room also bemusingly don't hear the whooshing to the past vortex and screaming ruckus. Despite fantastical chants, burning effigies, and ancient rituals; gory orifices and a ghostly assault lead to increasingly disturbing torments. The real world pain is compelling thanks to nosebleeds, gasping breaths, pulsing veins, contortions, and splatter. Vintage projectors play creepy historic film reels by themselves, and it's just weird enough to overcome any silliness. Old fashioned padding like water beds and looking up the police's number in the phone book add nostalgia alongside the damn freaky stuff captured on the kid's tape recorder – greed, lust, fruit of the womb, virgin blood. Set pieces don't leave the ensemble much to do, but the thwarted helicopters and bodily possessions culminate in crucifixion and evil cackling. Will Hoff be the hero or will the witch win? If you can appreciate the inadvertent laughter and obvious twists along with the well done scares, this makes for some surprisingly fun perils and intensity.