Diary of an Erotic Murderess / La encadenada (1975)

Let’s keep the femme fatale thrillers rolling with the penultimate movie as director for Spanish filmmaker Manuel Mur Oti, Diary of an Erotic Murderess, starring Marisa Mell in the lead role as a seductive killer con woman. Despite being a true villain in the story, there’s something really likeable about her in this. She’s not a sympathetic villain, although she might try to incite sympathy, and she really isn’t redeemable in any way, but she’s still appealing. Perhaps that’s just a testament to the power of the outward charm and beauty of the femme fatale.

How many of you like to think you can change her? or that she might make a special exception in your case? and maybe you just might survive your romantic but likely deadly sojourn with her, with your fortune and life still intact? It’s a fun idea that I usually have when watching this movie, but it’s not very realistic considering it doesn’t go well for her partners in crime. Joking aside, this one also does get pretty dark. 

It shouldn’t be surprising that Diary of an Erotic Murderess is a treat for fans of Marisa Mell and her Italian and Spanish swindler thrillers like Perversion Story (1969), Marta (1971), The Great Swindle (1971), and Death Will Have Your Eyes (1974). She’s great in it, and it’s just as good as another of my favorites Marta, which has a similar concept but is told quite differently. 

 

This one’s less heavy on mystery or violence and has more emphasis on playing out the drama in its peculiar scenario with a buildup to a handful of murders. It isn’t badly written, and I like the overall direction. It feels obvious where the story is going, but it’s more in how things play out as well as the ‘70s Eurocult look and feel of the movie that make it worthwhile. There’s also a couple of surprises I like towards the end (as well as a subtle twist involving the titular diary) that gives the last quarter and closeout of the film more of a punch.

 

Our leading lady is put to good use; she is virtually present the whole time from when she enters the movie up until its crazy closeout. Those shots of Marisa driving in her topless convertible (not to mention that exquisite music by Carlo Savina) when she is introduced towards the beginning of the movie are a mood setter that really hits the spot and will pull you in.

 

After the last one quits, oil tycoon Alexander (Richard Conte) desperately needs a new governess to take care of his mute and emotionally unstable son Mark (Juan Ribó) (a young man with a hyper-erratic childishness who’s prone to fits of violent outbursts) at his home, an isolated old, historical mansion on a promontory in Galicia. An astounding looking woman Gina (Marisa Mell), who Alexander regards as much too young and pretty for the job, answers the call. Assertively, with her credentials in hand, she convinces Alexander to take her to his home to meet his son and see for herself whether she can handle him or not. On the way to the mansion, from the way he looks at her when they are in the backseat together, it is obvious that Alexander, a man accustomed to getting everything he wants in life, is starting to immediately fall for Gina.

 

When they first arrive to his home, Mark is nowhere to be found, but Alexander and Gina become more acquainted and eventually have dinner together, which is when Mark suddenly arrives. The way he approaches Gina is awkward and tense, as, instead of shaking her hand, he stares at her funny before rudely ripping the flowers away from her dress that used to belong to his recently deceased mother. Gina takes this rather well. She seems to know exactly how to handle Mark, especially in private, as her tendency to redirect his negative energy and calm him down is not rooted in her supposed background as an expert psychologist, but rather because she is an expert manipulator. It shouldn’t be spoiling too much to mention that she’s not who she seems.

 

Mark wasn’t born mute but became nonverbal when he found his mother after she killed herself. Alexander explains to Gina that his son Mark idolized his mother when she was alive, and it is suggested he had a deep incestuous love for her. It isn’t clear if Gina physically resembles his mother, but Mark does start to eventually see his mother in her, thanks to some clever manipulation by Gina.

 

For Mark, Gina is his Goddess returned. Armed with what she knows about him; Gina goes to work on Mark psychologically. She quickly picks up on how to exploit him where he is most vulnerable. 

The moments when Mark is creeping around overlooking what goes on between Alexander and Gina suggest some kind of antagonistic agenda as well. Juan Ribó is actually pretty good as Mark, able to convey complex emotion without dialogue. He’s obviously going through some shit internally, but he’s probably not one you would want to underestimate. He’s not all that sympathetic either; there’s just something strange or untrustworthy about him. He gets shouted at like a pet/animal by the servants when misbehaving and locked up in a dungeon-like punishment cell. He kind of feels like the monster of the mansion in a way when he plays his elegant musical theme on the piano like a kind of phantom opera ghost. Gina views Mark’s theme on the piano as a kind of prayer and honor to the memory of his mother.

 

Alexander is foolish and even quite dumb at times, which is surprising considering his success in life. The dumbest thing he does is tell Gina that his son will inherit everything when he dies. Perhaps that’s just the point, as a woman like Gina would cause anyone of us to lose our heads. 

While Gina snoops around at night, the dissonance in the music signifies that she is (obviously) no saint. She ultimately comes across the titular diary that once belonged to Mark’s mother, and from it she finds inspiration to concoct her great swindle. She believes the author of the diary is her predecessor who inspires Gina to do what she couldn’t.

 

It is revealed that Gina has an estranged scumbag husband (Anthony Steffen), who she doesn’t seem happy to hear from when he calls her over the phone calling her Elizabeth. Her secret meetings with her husband, her past partner in crime as well, reveal more about who she really is.

 

I’ve got to say that not only does Diary of an Erotic Murderess hit the sweet spot for fans of the erotic Eurocult thriller, with its isolated mansion setting, themes around the desires and obsessions of the rich and decadent (and those envious of them), and seductive killer beauty, but the story does take a number of interesting turns; and the characters have a surprising amount of depth to them, although no one is really a “good guy” here, except for maybe the servants. The movie does have several phases, and I kind of like that because each phase is a game changer. I love a few of the brief moments of Marisa Mell walking the grounds of the mansion literally looking like a Greek goddess. There’s also a medieval sixteenth century monastery built by the Templars on the grounds that’s run by a convent of nuns that gets some play in the story.

 

I couldn’t help indulging in the plentiful shots of Marisa Mell lounging and reading in the film, which are the main images I ended up mentally associating this film with. Despite the turmoil that’s actually going on in the story, there’s always something so relaxing and cozy to movies like this, something almost meditative at times. Obviously, there’s a lot to choose from, but the time spent in this movie with this lovely killer lady is a true pleasure. 

© At the Mansion of Madness

 

Diabolicamente... Letizia / Sex, Demons and Death (1975)

“The oppressed have assimilated their fate so well that they become indignant if we offer them a less repressed sexual future.” – Emmanuelle Arsan – Mon Emmanuelle, leur pape et mon Eros  

The name Letizia means “joy,” and one can’t help but feel joy when a name like Letizia rolls off the tongue. So, there’s a bitter irony to the title character of Salvatore Bugnatelli’s Diabolicamente… Letizia baring the sweetness of joyful pleasure only to turn out to be quite the devilish killjoy.

Diabolicamente… Letizia (also known as Sex, Demons and Death) is another peculiar erotic Italian horror that kind of stuck with me after only seeing it once about six years ago. There is something off-kilter and ominous about it, with a repressive, isolated autumnal villa setting involving a capricious young woman, Letizia (Franca Gonella- Zelda 1974), moving in and sexually perturbing the idle and seemingly peaceful lifestyles of her Aunt Micaela (Magda Konopka) and Uncle Marcello (Gabriele Tinti). The resulting erotic situations are intentionally built up only to push back and break the spell with some sort of unease, be it emotional confliction, humiliation, mockery, or even a jump scare, brought about by the sexually manipulative Letizia. Is she really some kind of sexual she-wolf demoness or do these characters have some serious hangups?

La lunga notte di Veronique / But You Were Dead (1966)

“There are two kinds of taste, the taste for emotions of surprise and the taste for emotions of recognition.” – Henry James 

Even with its familiar look (that darkly romantic title and poster art baiting me in), I could still sense La lunga notte de Veronique was going to be a little bit different than the ‘60s/’70s Italian gothic horrors I’m accustomed to (and still a big fan of). No obvious Poe, Le Fanu, Stoker, Lovecraft, Shelley, or Sade influences. No witches, black masses, zombies, blood countesses, demons, masked killers, sadistic crimson executioners, or satanic love interests, just an effective, tragic ghost romance, without much in the way of ambiguity. 

Currently, it doesn’t seem to have much of a fanbase, but the film is lowkey intriguing. I only just came across it recently, and it is somewhat of a pleasant surprise and a nice addition to the ever-growing collection of underseen Eurocult that will hopefully see a restored release someday. 

Shadow of Illusion / Ombre roventi (1970)

“I understand those who want to live against this century, but I fear those who believe they can live outside of it.” – Emmanuelle Arsan – Mon Emmanuelle, leur pape et mon Eros  

Cults erect out of myth. Myth gives rise to cults. Their members become so enamored in myth that they become grossly detached from reality. Yet, they’ll maintain a strong conviction and belief that they are the ones who are really in tune with reality, above all others. And when this happens, people get hurt.

For fans of ‘60s/70s Italian thrillers, it’s the prospect of a deadly hippie cult that gives a film like Shadow of Illusion its primary appeal to genre explorers, and while that promising aspect might bring us here, we end up finding even more to like about it. One of the film’s strong points is that it does integrate Egyptian mythology, particularly The Osiris Myth, into its plot rather nicely, even to the point of provoking further viewer interest.  

Shadow of Illusion is directed by Mario Caiano (Nightmare Castle (1965) and Eye in the Labyrinth (1972)) and is quite the excavation for the Eurocult archeologist. It is indeed an enjoyable but unusual watch that kind of feels at home alongside other paranoid Italian occult thrillers like All the Colors of the Dark (1972), The Cat in Heat (1972), or even The Perfume of the Lady in Black (1974).

The Unnaturals / Schreie in der Nacht (1969)

When poring over the impressively diverse range of genre films from Antonio Margheriti, I realize there’s still a lot more I need to see. I have more blind spots here than I care to admit. I plan on eventually rectifying this issue in good time, maybe starting with some of the derivative sounding ‘80s action/adventure stuff like The Last Blood (1983) or The Ark of the Sun God (1984). I do have a soft spot for retro space movies, so something like Assignment: Outer Space (1960), Margheriti’s first full film as director, would probably make my day. I have been a big fan of Margheriti’s exquisite gothic horror films for quite some time (no surprise there), and I’ve been itching to review one of his least talked about (as far as I can tell) gothic horrors, The Unnaturals / Contronatura. 

I thought this German / Italian co-production kind of had a classic comic book feel to it (something kind of in the vein of EC’s Crime SuspenStories). It’s also been compared to the krimi thriller, with all the fixings of a crime fueled storyline, only instead of a detective or Scotland Yard, the criminal foil and justice comes in the form of the supernatural beyond. There’s also no denying that the 1920s setting, primarily in a gloomy haunted mansion during a long meditative séance, hosted by none other than Luciano Pigozzi, with a bunch of stranded shady characters seeking shelter on a dark and stormy night is gothic horror as fuck. This is the kind of gathering that I consider a good time.

Night of the Damned / La notte dei dannati (1971)

“Thank Heaven! The crisis / The danger is past, and the lingering illness, is over at last /, and the fever called “Living” is conquered at last.” Edgar Allan Poe 

Horror films are more traditionally associated with anxiety and sleepless nights. Funny, then, how we tend to look towards horror sometimes to wind down after the day. Now, I love to be scared and shocked just as much as any horror fan, but what about a horror film that can have the opposite effect, one that puts you to sleep through relaxation and comfort? Thanks to the usual languid pace and soothing dark ambiance, a lot of older gothic horror films can serve as a pretty good example of this, such as the gothic literary mashup Night of the Damned. 

Directed by Filippo Walter Ratti and written by Aldo Marcovecchio, Night of the Damned is a quaint little ‘70s Italian gothic horror that hits a lot of the right notes when it comes to style, mood, and atmosphere. Sure, there is better to pick from, but something about this film made me want to revisit and connect with it on a deeper level. The Poe-inspired world is worth getting lost in, and it appeals to my love for the supernatural femme fatales who reign from their remote dark castles, with the occult and hedonistic rituals that usually accompany them.

Death Falls Lightly / La morte scende leggera (1972)

“When analyzed with any degree of honesty, jealous behavior appears, in reality, neither as a duty nor a right, but as a shabby dross of our obsession with possessing.” – Emmanuelle Arsan – L’hypothese d’Eros 

A weekend getaway at a resort hotel with your significant other is most people’s idea of a relaxing holiday, but having to hide out in a creepy, possibly haunted hotel with your mistress for the weekend, because your wife turned up murdered, sounds like a more interesting time to me. 

Death Falls Lightly is one of two thrillers directed and co-written by Leopoldo Savona (the other being Byleth – The Demon of Incest (1972)) that I commend for its unusual and multidirectional approach. You’re not really sure what they’re going for, but you kind of like it anyways. Like Byleth, it’s a little hard to compare to other films of its ilk, since it’s kind of an oddball example. It reaches for different ideas, perhaps one too many, while maintaining that appealing ’70s Euro-genre ascetic, so you’re getting something both different and familiar at the same time. Whether or not it’s actually any good is somewhat difficult to tell by the film’s end. 

I personally find this one delightful, as it is a bit of a jack-of-all-trades genre movie that borrows from crime, mystery, giallo, erotic, fantastical, psychological, and occult horror, so it’s like there’s a little bit of something for everyone. It is mostly centered around a claustrophobic and somewhat dark and depressing hotel. Interestingly, this movie predicts The Shining during a few moments, and my mind even thought a little of Silent Hill at times.

The Witches Mountain / El monte de las brujas (1973)

Cover art by Justin Coffee

 “A woman will sometimes forgive the man who tries to seduce her, but never the man who misses an opportunity when offered.” – Charles Maurice de Talleyrand

I’m hoping that in the coming months and years, more and more people discover, and hopefully enjoy, the unfairly banned and relatively forgotten Spanish horror Raúl Artigot’s The Witches Mountain thanks to Mondo Macabro’s recent release of the film. Lured by its title and because Patty Shepard was in it, I first saw the film as a VHS rip on YouTube back around 2013 and was really floored by how atmospheric and beautifully haunting it was despite the low picture quality. I’m usually easy to please in this area, but every DVD-R and download of this film I came across was quite soft looking and really showed the film’s age. Anytime I thought to review it, I was discouraged, and mildly depressed, by how much the poor-quality screengrabs undersold the film, so I kept holding out for a decent release someday. Years went by, and I personally started to give up hope, so it was miraculous news for me when the HD upgrade of The Witches Mountain was finally announced. There was a significant delay after the Halloween presale, but I thought it was worth the wait.