In earlier installments in HORROR-WOOD, The History Of Italian Horror Part One and Part Two covered the budding, flowering, and withering of classic Italian gothic horror and the growth of giallo. Now, the fruits of the bloody giallo tradition are revealed in the third and final installment of the...
PART THREE
THE GORE AND THE GLORY
by David White
During the golden age of Italian horror, as well as the early days of the giallo, Italian exploitation cinema had it’s own unique style. Other influences could be detected, of course. The gothic horrors of Mario Bava and Riccardo Freda owed a bit to the success of the Hammer Horror films. Still the horror film and the giallo maintained their own character. The international success of William Friedkin’s The Exorcist (1973) changed all that. Possession films became all the rage. Ovidio Assonitis’s Beyond the Door (1975) is probably the most famous, Alberto de Martino’s L’Anticristo (1974) (AKA The Tempter) is the best and House of Exorcism…well, more on that later.
The Italian gothic horror reached it’s peak with Dario Argento’s Suspiria (1976) and Inferno (1980). The two films should have inspired legions of rip-offs but instead, filmmakers decided to rip-off Zombi; Argento’s re-cut, re-scored and re-titled version of George Romero’s Dawn of the Dead (1979). Once again, some of the new zombie films worked (Fulci’s Zombie II (1979)) and some didn’t (Andrea Bianchi’s Burial Ground (1980)).
Lamberto Bava’s Demons
(1985) and its sequel Demons II
(1987) (produced by Argento) 
combined the zombie film with the
possession film. Lucio Fulci injected gothic elements into the
zombie film (Gates of Hell
(1980) and The Beyond
(1981)) and filmmakers like Umberto Lenzi (City
of the Walking Dead (1980)), Joe
D’Amato (The Grim Reaper,
AKA Anthrophagus,
1980)) and Ruggero Deodato (Cannibal
Holocaust (1979)) abandoned the supernatural
entirely to create the sub-genre known as the "Cannibal
Film."
The gialli continued through the work of Mario Bava, Dario Argento and (to a lesser degree) Mario Bava’s son, Lamberto. The success of the possession and zombie films, as well as the various hybrids, soon eclipsed the success of the gialli. The past twenty years of Italian horror have become a mish-mash of various exploitation styles and influences. Here are examples of some of the better films to come out of this era:
Lisa and Devil (1972) (AKA House of Exorcism) One of the worst casualties of the popularity of The Exorcist is Mario Bava’s Lisa and The Devil. Starring Elke Sommer and Telly Savalas, Lisa… is one of Bava’s best films. It tells the story of a young woman named Lisa (Sommer) who gets separated from her tourist group and winds up in an old mansion whose inhabitants may or may not be mannequins come to life, built by Savalas. But who is Savalas? The devil himself?
The Bava touch is evident throughout. The film is, by turns, melodramatic and horrific. When the owner of the mansion seduces Lisa in the same bed occupied by his previous lover’s corpse (a woman that Lisa bears more than a passing resemblance to), the scene is less repellent than it is seductive and beautiful. It is subversive images such as these that make Bava’s work so appealing. Lisa was a dreamlike art film that contained few of the violent set-pieces that the producers expected from Bava.
To capitalize on the success of The
Exorcist, the film was re-cut and new scenes
added that depicted Sommer being exorcised ala Linda Blair
complete with devil-like make-up and pea soup puke. If the
original version was deliberately vague and ambiguous, the new
version was incoherent. Unfortunately, it was this version that
was released in America and found it’s way on videotape in
the early eighties. After a few television appearances in the
late 70’s, the original version faded from the scene and
many people believed it to be lost. For many years, the re-cut
version was the only one available. Luckily for Bava’s fans,
the original print resurfaced a few years ago and was recently
released on laserdisc (with Bava's Baron
Blood)and VHS. Oddly enough, this once lost
masterpiece is now among the most easily available of all of
Bava’s work.
Bava continued to make genre films until the end of his career. Unlike many of his peers, Bava continued to grow in new directions. He made another Exorcist-inspired film entitled Shock (re-titled Beyond the Door II) with his son Lamberto and died in 1980 after completing special effects for Dario Argento’s Inferno. His final film, Rabid Dogs, which remained incomplete for many years after his death, was finally released last year on DVD. The film is a stunningly realistic crime drama that serves as a fitting conclusion to his remarkable career.
Suspiria: It’s hard for me to discuss Suspiria without getting personal. There’s an old anecdote dating back to the early days of the cinema that, whether it’s true or not, perfectly illustrates how I felt the first time I saw this film.
As the story goes, a large crowd of people gathered into a tiny theater to witness a new novelty item known as "the motion picture". As the lights in the theater went down and the light from the projector began to flicker, a wave of water came crashing through the wall sending the audience to the back of the theater in a panic. The wave, of course, wasn’t real at all but a moving image composed of shadows and light. In that brief moment, the audience’s perception of reality had altered and a whole new world of technological and artistic possibilities had made itself known.
Suspiria
was my own, personal, cinematic tidal wave. It made every horror
film I’d seen 
before feel like a compromise. Watching Suspiria
for the first time, the viewer feels like the film-making process
has been abandoned completely; that the film has leapt straight
from director Dario Argento’s fevered imagination to the
screen. In short, it’s one of the few horror films that
lives up to it’s promise. It surpasses the imagination.
The story is simple enough. Ballet dancer Suzy Banyon (Valerie Harper) arrives in Frieberg, Germany to attend the celebrated Tanz Dance Academy. Immediately upon her arrival, mysterious deaths and unusual events begin plaguing the students. This leads Suzy to the discovery that the academy is, in fact, run by a coven of witches. The more Suzy learns, the more of threat to the coven she becomes.
What’s amazing about the film is not the story itself, but the way the story is told. The baroque visuals owe a debt to the lush, detailed gothic dreams of Mario Bava and golden age of Italian horror but Argento takes them even further by bathing the proceedings in bright, vivid Technicolor. The violent set-pieces are shocking in their savagery yet oddly beautiful in their execution. A young lady is pulled through a window, stabbed repeatedly, then sent crashing through a colored skylight until her descent is stopped short by a noose around her neck. Another unfortunate victim is chased into a room full of barbed wire prior to her throat being cut. The ceiling of the school rains maggots and the sounds of footsteps echo through the night.
Suspiria’s biggest asset, aside from the vivid, dreamlike cinematography, is the soundtrack by Goblin. After having scored Argento’s earlier Deep Red (see part II) the band hit their stride with this score. The music is overpowering and repetitive, almost deafening at times, punctuated by the sudden utterance of the word "Witches!" at key points.
All in all, Suspiria
is a landmark horror film and one that even Argento himself has
never been able to top. The film’s sequel, Inferno, came
close but lacked the narrative pull of Suspiria.
After these two forays into the supernatural, Argento returned to
the giallo with often brilliant, often disappointing results. Tenebrae
(1982) (AKA Unsane)
is one of his strongest entries as is Opera
(1987) (AKA Terror at the Opera).
Phenomenae (1985) (AKA Creepers)
is an energetic, watchable but confusing mish mash of mystery and
psychic phenomena. His American films, Two
Evil Eyes (1990) and Trauma
(1993), are interesting but unspectacular. His most recent film, The
Stendahl Syndrome (1996), is both creative
and brutal proving that the maestro hasn’t lost his touch.
Argento has also served as a producer, helping to jump-start the
directing careers of Michele Soavi and Lamberto Bava. In
addition, he had a hand in one of the most influential horror
films ever to be released in Italy; George Romero’s Dawn
of the Dead.
House with the Windows that Laughed (1976): Director Pupi Avati has only contributed a few horror films to the genre, but all of them are significant. Far from the visual and violent excesses of Argento and Fulci, Avati’s horror films are quiet and subtle, yet wind up being absolutely terrifying. House With the Windows that Laughed seemed to come out of nowhere. If it owes a debt to any horror film, it would have to be Mario Bava’s Kill, Baby, Kill (1966) but even that comparison seems to result from desperately reaching for antecedent to a film that feels like it has come out of nowhere. House doesn’t conform to any of the conventions we’ve come to expect from Italian horror. It contains very little violence and lacks the bright colors, rapid pace and loud soundtrack that were virtually de riguer when the film was released.
Lino Caplicchio plays a young artist named Stefano. Stefano is sent to a small, rural village to restore a faded fresco to the walls of a local church. The fresco, a disturbing painting depicting the brutal death of St. Sebastian, compels the young artist to investigate the mysterious death of the painter. Complicating matters are the threatening phone calls Stefano receives urging him to leave well enough alone. His search leads him to the truth about the painter and his two sadistic sisters who kidnapped and tortured young boys while he depicted their agony through his work. We know from the beginning, that Stefano’s investigation will lead him down a dark, tragic path, yet we, like him are helpless to turn away.
It’s hard to explain what makes this film so terrifying. While viewing it, one almost has the sense the film, much like the fresco itself, tells a story that is not for human consumption; that it has been smuggled away from some dark force and by watching it we are breaking a long-standing taboo. The evil feels so pervasive, so tangible that one wonders if Avati had to make a pact with the devil to complete it.
Avati’s other horror films contain the same sense of the macabre. Zeder: Voices from Beyond (1983) (AKA Revenge of the Dead) is another film concerning a man’s descent into a horrifying, tragic mystery. Avati also wrote Lamberto Bava’s first film Macabro (1980) (AKA Frozen Dead). He recently completed Arcane Enchanter, but this film has yet to reach our shores.
Cannibal Holocaust:
Lucio Fulci’s Zombie launched a whole slew of Zombie films.
It wasn’t long before the Zombie genre evolved into the
Cannibal genre; films that took place in the 
jungle and depicted grotesque acts
of violence which unfortunately included the actual slaughter of
animals among it’s many horrors. The plots of the films are
all depressingly similar; a group of white explorers travels to
the jungle where they discover a large group of cannibal natives.
After exploiting and torturing the natives, the explorers are
captured and subjected to a series of tortures (often including
the mutilation of genitalia) until they become dinner. End of
story. Almost none of these films are really worth discussing but
filmmaker Ruggero Deodato contributed two films to the genre
that, whether you like them or not, are hard to ignore.
Deodato’s first cannibal film was The Last Cannibal World (1976) (AKA The Last Survivor); a well done adventure film that depicted the white explorers descent in savagery after discovering a hidden cannibal village. His next film, Cannibal Holocaust, is a devastating, nightmarish descent into the most nihilistic side of human behavior.
The film begins with the departure of a documentary film crew to the Amazon. The film crew subsequently discovers a tribe of natives that they proceed to torture, rape and humiliate in order procure sensationalistic footage for their documentary. Some time later, the film crew vanishes. A search party dispatched to investigate the crew’s disappearance discovers several canisters of film which it then brings back to the states. The remainder of Cannibal Holocaust consists of the material found in the canisters depicting the native’s horrific revenge on the unfortunate filmmakers.
What makes Cannibal Holocaust so disturbing is the graphic depiction of live animal slaughter which seems to have performed in front of the camera for no other reason than to capture actual death on film. One scene in particular, in which a large sea turtle is killed and taken apart by the actors, may be the most shocking scene on film since Luis Bunuel pulled a razor blade across a cow’s eye in Un Chein Andalou. Deodato has stated, in interviews, that these animals were the native’s food supply anyway and that the public outrage over these scenes is hypocritical considering how much meat the world consumes on a daily basis. Fair enough. After all, no one complained about the animal slaughter scenes in Nicolas Roeg’s Walkabout (1973) or John Water’s Pink Flamingos (1972) . Deodato’s film, however, shoves death directly into the viewer’s face. It would be easy enough to condemn the film if it were poorly made, but it isn’t; the acting is good, the cinematography and music score are beautiful and the director’s point of view pervasive. Cannibal Holocaust is undoubtedly a well-made film, but the viewer feels so sullied and corrupted by the end that one can’t help but wonder if the horror film has simply gone too far this time.
Deodato has continued to make genre films with widely varying results. The House on the Edge of the Park (1981) is a sadistic psycho-thriller starring David Hess (Last House on the Left (1972)). Dial Help (1989) and Phantom of Death (1986) are stylish, but ultimately undistinguished, films. His recent film Washing Machine (1993), however, is a wonderfully sleazy giallo that is definitely worth seeking out.
Gates of Hell: After the success of George Romero’s Dawn of the Dead (Zombi) Lucio Fulci was approached to direct an Italian made sequel entitled Zombie II (re-titled Zombie in the states). This film was also a success and led Fulci’s career down a new path. Although Zombie remains his most famous film, Gates of Hell is a more successful achievement in almost every way.
In the town of Dunwich (a nod to
H.P. Lovecraft) a priest commits suicide and opens one of the
doorways to hell. A reporter named Peter (Christopher George) is
investigating the presumed death of a young psychic (Katherine
McColl) when he discovers that she has actually been buried
alive. After hearing her screams in the middle of a cemetery and
cracking open her casket with a pick, the two set out for Dunwich
with McColl’s psychiatrist to close the gateway to hell.
What follows are a series of barely related scenes depicting the
rising of the dead and the evil that plagues the citizens of
Dunwich. The film reaches it’s gory conclusion in an
underground tomb and ends in a depressingly ambiguous and silly
freeze-frame that almost undermines the film’s better
moments.
Gates of Hell is by no means a perfect film. Many of the charges leveled by Fulci’s critics are sadly accurate. The gore is often more distracting than arresting, particularly the infamous scene of a young lady vomiting up her entire intestinal tract complete with actual sheep innards and wet burping noises on the soundtrack. The series of horrors often has nothing to do with the dead rising at all, as illustrated by another scene in which an old man drives a drill bit through the head of retarded teenager that he believes has raped his daughter. Still, the silly ending and repugnant gore aren’t able to rob the film of it’s many assets. The atmosphere is thick and mysterious. The village of Dunwich is bathed in an eerie blue light as rolls of fog cascade through the streets and dark corridors. In addition, several of the more subtle scenes (subtle, that is, compared to the previously mentioned gory excesses) rank among the best the Italian horror industry has produced. Peter’s breaking open of Mary’s coffin is remarkably tense as the pick continually comes within inches of her head. Another scene in which a young boy is being chased through the streets by the ghost of his dead sister is the highlight of the film.
After Gates of
Hell, Fulci directed two more wonderful
horror films; The Beyond
(recently re-released by Quentin Tarantino) and House
by the Cemetery (1981). Fulci’s later
work lacks the stylish, oppressive atmosphere that makes his gory
excess so compelling. Film’s like Manhattan
Baby (1983) and New York
Ripper 1982) fail to capture the magic of
his earlier output and, in the case of Ripper,
are pointless exercises in misogyny and violence. Fulci was set
to direct The Wax Mask
(1997) before dying of a heart attack last year. The film,
produced by Dario Argento, might have put Fulci back on track.
Instead, it was directed by special effects artist Sergio
Stivaletti. The results are entertaining, but one can’t help
but wonder what Fulci would have done with the material.
The Church (1989): Nowhere are various influences on, and variations of, Italian horror more evident than in the work of Michele Soavi. The youngest of the Italian horror filmmakers, Soavi’s work insures that the Italian horror film will find it’s way into the next millennium. Soavi’s horror work began as an actor sitting next to the woman who vomits up her intestinal tract in Fulci’s Gates of Hell. His first film, as director, was Stage Fright (1987) (AKA Aquarius; Bloody Bird). The film was a creative homage to the American slasher film (which were themselves homages to the Italian giallo). Soavi’s next film, The Church, was produced by Dario Argento. Originally, The Church was to have been Demons III but for various reasons it became an independent project.
The Church opens with a prologue set in the past as the Knights of the Templar decimate an entire village whose citizens have been accused of witchcraft. After disposing of the corpses in a giant pit, a church is erected on the burial site. The story leaps forward to the present day. A historian played by Tomas Arana discovers the secret of the church’s past. The first half of the film follows his character almost exclusively as the spirits of the town’s victims begin to possess him. During the second half, all hell breaks loose as a group of people finds themselves trapped within the walls of the church as the demons begin to break free.
Despite the breakdown in narrative during the film’s second half, The Church is a worthy addition to the possession film genre as well as being a nicely done throwback to the Italian gothic horror tradition. Soavi’s subsequent films fared even better, managing to be original and stylish while still drawing on earlier films for inspiration. The Sect (1991) (AKA The Devil’s Daughter) is a wonderful, dreamlike fantasy/horror film with a plot similar to Rosemary’s Baby. His most recent film Dellamorte, Dellamore (1994) (AKA Cemetery Man ) combines zombies, ghosts and gothic trappings to tell the story of a cemetery attendant who spends his nights trying to prevent the living dead from escaping. (Special treat: click here to see Cemetery Man in 3-D!)
Mask of Satan (1991): Lamberto Bava has had a troubling career in the horror genre. He will forever be compared to his father, Mario, which has led to a bias against his many films. To be sure, much of the criticism leveled at Lamberto is justified. Several of his films (The Ogre, Until Death, Graveyard Disturbance) are shockingly bad in almost every way, while others (Body Puzzle, A Blade in The Dark, Macabro) are fairly well-crafted gialli. He is probably most famous for his Demons. These films are good, to be sure, but his most accomplished work by far is the seldom-seen Mask of Satan.
Mask of Satan
is not a remake or sequel to Mario Bava’s film of the same
title (AKA Black 
Sunday 1960)) but it
does borrow a few images from the elder Bava’s film before
launching into an entirely different direction. Lamberto’s
film is a combination of Mario’s film and the novel on which
it was based; The Viy by
Nicolai Gogol.
Director/Actor Michele Soavi stars as one of a group of snow skiers that fall into a crevice and discover a centuries old corpse with a mask nailed to it’s face. After removing the mask, there is an earthquake and the group finds themselves in a small village whose only resident is a priest. With the exception of Soavi, the group slowly begins acting mischievous, and then downright evil as the spirit of the old witch, named Anibas, begins to possess them all.
The acting is uniformly strong and unlike the demons in Bava’s previous films, the actors play their roles completely sans makeup of any kind. Visually, the film is another example of bright colors and intricate architecture that convey a sense of mythic dread. While certainly not as violent as the Demons films, Mask doesn’t lack a significant gore quotient. In one scene, the demons drag the priest down into a pit and feed on his body. What could have been simply an example of the latest innovation in latex, becomes almost existential. Far from gratuitous, the scene is necessary in order to convey the full spectrum of evil that Soavi’s character must now combat. The final third of the film becomes an intriguing mind game as fantasy and reality begin to blur. This section is expertly crafted and recalls some of the work of Jean Cocteau in its more poetic moments.
Once again, the previously mentioned films don’t reflect every worthwhile Italian horror film from the past twenty years. Adventurous viewers are encouraged to track down Gianfranco Giangni’s Spider Labyrinth (1990), Mariano Baino’s Dark Waters (1993) and Francesco Barilli’s Perfume of a Woman in Black (1974). Waters and Perfume, in particular, are stunning films and if time and space allowed I would write extensively about them as well.
And so we come to the end of my all too-condensed history of Italian horror. While this three part series may not have been authoritative, I hope it will encourage you to seek out some of these wonderful films. The world of Italian horror is one of awe, wonder and magic making it one of the most rewarding cinematic genres. Happy hunting!
"I’m in love with the color red. I dream in red. My nightmares are bathed in red…Red is the color of passion, of joy. Red is the color of journeys into the hidden depths of the subconscious. But above all: red is the color of rage…and violence."--Dario Argento
An excellent finish to an excellent series, David, one that I and many readers have enjoyed! Now that we're in the Halloween season, let's not forget to put at least a little Italian horror on the schedule...
Article copyright David White
