"La notte dei diavoli" (1971) d/ Giorgio Ferroni

Tonight's review is based on a story by Tolstoy called "Lu Famille Du Wurdulak" that was last adapted for the silver screen by Mario Bava, and unforgettably so, in his I tre volti di paura aka/ Black Sabbath (1965). The 1971 Italo-Spanish co-production directed by Perugia native, Giorgio Ferroni, the guy who gave you things like Mill of the Stone Women (1960) and Per pochi dollari ancora aka/ For a Few Extra Dollars (1968), features some disturbing and impressive gore for the era from FX wizard Carlo Rambaldi, and stars familiar genre favorites Gianni Garko and Agostina Belli. The resulting, infrequently seen film is no less a cult classic than Bava's earlier work, perhaps a more modern-flavored, funereal update on said effort, albeit a gradually paced one, with it's fair share of violence and nudity.


Bet you won't see any dynamic exploding prop headery in Dracula Untold. Just sayin'.
After he's found stumbling aimlessly on the beach, a contused Nicola (Gianni Garko) struggles to cling to sanity, as he tries to piece together the weird events that have left him in this hospital bed, when a strange woman's appearance sends him into a panicked frenzy of violent hallucinations. A wrong turn sends the lumber dealer's automobile crashing in the darkest depths of the Yugoslavian forests, leading him through a mostly abandoned town to the homestead of Gorca (Bill Vanders), a superstitious peasant whose sourpuss family lives in the terrible shadow of a malevolent witch (Maria Monti), who's the reason for the family's insistence that he stay indoors after the sun has set, and the source behind the strange noises that disturb Nicola's rest that evening. He weathers the wild tales for the striking beauty of Gorca's blue eyed daughter, Sdenka (Agostina Belli), who happens to be a dead ringer for the woman who visits him at the outset in the hospital. The plot thickens...


Working on Duck, You Sucker! with Sergio Leone sure took its toll on James Coburn.
The following day, Gorca sets out to rid the family of the spell caster's evil influence, with a sizable wooden stake in hand, and on the guarantee that his loved ones not unlock the door for him should he return even moments past six o'clock, betokening the desperate man's failure. His volatile son, Jovan (Roberto Maldera), tries to fix Nicola's car, after having helped bury his uncle the previous day, in hopes of ending the witch's ongoing malediction towards his family. Nicola is then forced to weigh his increasing feelings towards Sdenka against the grotesque goings on around him, as Jovan jockeys for familial power amidst growing evidence of Wurdulak activity. Unlike their vampiric kin, these variants prey solely upon the blood of loved ones, and can be dispatched in a myriad of gruesome, more conventional methods besides just the obligatory stake through the heart, running water, burning rays of sunlight, etc. we've come to expect from bloodsuckers. As you'd expect, this leads to a satisfyingly goopy, twist of a finale, where Nicola frantically searches the hospital for his female visitor as the events leading up to this unfold through flashback. If any of this sounds promising to you, you'll have to seek out a copy, to see how it all wraps up, for yourselves.


When everyone else is sick of seeing your rotten face, the maggots still love you.
Garko also turned up in things like Castellari's Gli occhi freddi della paura aka/ Cold Eyes of Fear (1971),  Il venditore di morte (1971), Il fiore dai petali d'acciaio (1973) and Fulci's Sette note in nero (1977), when he wasn't appearing in westerns like Se incontri Sartana prega per la tua morte (1968) and 10,000 dollari per un massacro (1967). Belli appeared in Il castello dalle porte di fuoco aka/ Scream of the Demon Lover (1970), Giornata nera per l'ariete aka/ The Fifth Cord (1971), and Bluebeard (1972), as well as several sex comedies later on in the decade. You can pick up tonight's review on a reasonably priced Blu-ray from the fine folks at Raro, and should do so, by all means. On the scale, a four Wop rating is reserved for but apex examples of genre fare, and Ferroni's film certainly falls into that category; recommended viewing as we draw nearer to All Hallow's Eve...


Ho potuto guardare una faccia come questa tutta la notte...

"Bluebeard" (1972) d/ Edward Dmytryk, Luciano Sacripanti

 Sometimes, when an actor has truly "made it", as legendary British star Richard Burton certainly had by 1972, having snagged five Oscar nominations for 'Best Actor', and one for 'Best Supporting Actor' by 1970, he gets the opportunity to perform in as grandiose a chunk of seventies Eurosleaze as tonight's review, while surrounded by no less than eight of the most beautiful women in the world at the time. You've got Marilu Tolo, who'd appeared in Mio caro assassino(1972), Virna Lisi, who'd go on to appear in Lucio Fulci's Zanna bianca (1973), Karin Schubert, who'd turned up in Enzo Castellari's Gli occhi freddi della paura (1971),  Agostina Belli, who also show up in Giorgio Ferroni's La notte dei diavoli (1972),  and topping it all  off (for me, anyway) there's Nathalie Delon, Raquel Welch, Sybill Danning, and Joey Heatherton. For proper perspective,also try to remember that Dicky was going home to Elizabeth Taylor when shooting wrapped. Poor devil...


"This chaise makes my ass sore. Do you mind if I lay on my Belli?", asks Agostina.
Kurt Von Sepper (Richard Burton) is an Austrian WWI pilot, big game hunter, and member of the aristocracy, his bluish beard, well admired by all his nationalist chums, while his overactive appetite for a wide variety of strikingly beautiful women leads to each lovely's respective demise at his judgmentally murderous hands, in Bava-esque, giallo-licious ways.At least until the American pixie, Anna (Joey Heatherton), with true love in her eyes, comes along. She gives her new husband a pass after stumbling upon an old cleaning woman brushing the hair of the corpse of his dead, mummified mother. Stumbling into a secret freezer full of dead wives, on the other hand, she finds much harder to forgive. Von Sepper regretfully informs his enthusiastic spouse that she's joining the gruesome display and going on permanent bye-bye's before the sun rises, but she cunningly buys herself time by hearing extensive confessions to all of her husband's previous crimes first.


I'd say five Hail Marys, two Our Fathers, and an Act of Contrition for a swig o' the wine outta Magdalena's (Raquel Welch) tabernacle.
Through flashbacks, Greta (Karin Schubert) gets "accidentally" shot on a hunt after threatening to reveal the true extent of a war wound he'd received, then Elga (Virna Lisi) gets rubbed out by guillotine over her incessant warbling,  while Erika (Nathalie Delon) is a virginal model whose bedroom inexperience forces Kurt to hire a prostitute (Sybill Danning) to school her in the art of lovemaking. When the girls get too sleepover-y for his proper taste, it's the rhino horn chandelier for both of them. Magdalena (Raquel Welch) is a nymphomaniac-turned-nun whose constant flow of graphic carnal confessions earn her an asphyxiation in a nearby casket. Brigitte (Marilu Tolo) is a gun-shootin', hangbag puntin', bundle of feminism whose mile wide masochistic streak leaves Kurt no choice but to extinguish her. Then there's the brattish Caroline (Agostina Belli) who also doesn't make it to the final reel. A guy who couldn't hit it off with any of this crumpet'd have to be impotent...like Kurt is, surprise, surprise. What ensues, I'll leave you to experience for yourselves.


"I understand the 'milk,milk' paht, dahling, it's when you go 'round the corner that confuses meh."
For the perverted section of Woprophiles out there (hopefully every last one of you!), all of Burton's co-stars put their fleshy wares on full display here, save for Raquel Welch, who looks just as fine in a nun's habit as she does in a bathing suit, any old damned way. The soundtrack, by maestro Ennio Morricone, is top shelf, as always, full of allusion and character. While we're on the subject of moods and maestros, the film's atmosphere is notably thick with the brightly colored influence of  Mario Bava, the artificial bodies lending an air of dark humor about the production, as well. Bluebeard isn't perfect, but there's more than enough beauty in front of the lens, and behind it, as well, to make this a highly enjoyable screening, and a three Wop score sounds reasonably fitting. Equally artsy and exploitative, see it.


"What, no Francoise Pascal or Christina Lindberg?!!?", begs the Baron (Burton).