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.
It might not be the most terribly exciting film, as most of it feels like a tragic gothic romance novel, with a deliberately slow pace, but it does reserve more of the horror elements for later. Even then, it is still in a subtle and beautiful way. It kind of flows a little like Sauro Scavolini’s Love and Death in the Garden of the Gods (1972), with its different timelines and a tragic past that perilously catches up with the present.
Italian filmmaker Gianni Vernuccio was usually involved in multiple tasks for the films he worked on. He directed, produced, co-wrote, shot, and edited La lunga notte de Veronique, so it’s probably safe to believe that the film is a passion project with a high level of sincerity to it, and, technical shortcomings aside, it really does feel like it in the end (I love that closeout visual in the family crypt, a fine blend of beauty and the macabre).
I wasn’t expecting it going in, but there are four different time periods in this film, featuring (and here’s where I start to sound like a movie trailer) romance wrecked by war, a love story that spans three generations, and a beautiful ghost claiming her due for a broken oath. It’s rather ambitious given the low production scale, but I think it ends up working, with a solid story and flashbacks that feel real and have an interesting mix of warmness and melancholy to them.
I didn’t have trouble tracking the four different time periods (with the majority of the film taking place in the story’s present day of 1966), but I did manage to miss that the same actor who played Giovanni (Sandro Pizzochero) also played his father Alberto and his Grandfather Count Marco Anselmi (played by Walter Pozzi in the present period) during some of the flashback scenes. I do recognize the actor in the different roles now after knowing this, but Pizzochero does a fine acting job and convincingly comes off as completely different men (it’s also amazing how much of a difference that mustache makes during the World War 1 period).
I’m not sure what’s up with the saturated blue bus ride scene during the intro credits. It’s kind of abysmal and hard to look at. Aside from the lovely tune (“La ballata di Veronique” performed by Paki & Paki), it’s not a winner for an opener. Maybe this will hopefully look better if the film ever has an upgrade.
The story begins with the lead Giovanni travelling to a hospital after learning of his parents’ deaths from a car accident. At the hospital, he finds out from a nurse that his mother, Maria (played in a flashback scene by Cristina Gaioni) had made a dying confession that Giovanni, unbeknownst to him until this point, has a wealthy grandfather, Count Marco Anselmi, who he is urged to visit with at his mansion. It turns out that Giovanni’s mother was the daughter of the gardener at the mansion. During World War 2, Giovanni’s mother fled her family after her father, a fascist sympathizer, had betrayed her lover Alberto, who was a rebel soldier and Count Marco’s son. Alberto was captured and killed, leaving Maria alone, with child, and understandably cursing and wanting nothing to do with her father anymore.
Shortly before Alberto was captured, a mysterious white gowned woman with a candelabrum appeared before him, revealing that he had been betrayed and that it was too late for him. The overall story does go deeper, and it directly revolves around this mysterious woman.
With Giovanni taken in by the Count, he is given free rein to study philosophy and take his grandfather’s fancy wheels out for a spin whenever he wishes. It isn’t long before he meets an alluring young woman named Veronica (Alba Rigazzi), who appears and disappears at odd intervals and random places, on the mansion grounds, on the side of the road, in the woods, or in the middle of the night. Giovanni takes a strong liking to her. She also seems to bear uncanny similarities to the Count’s cousin Veronique, who died back in 1916 when she was only nineteen.
The Count’s live-in caretaker Denise (Anna Maria Aveta) provides a slight amount (like a dropper full) of erotic attraction to the film. Sadly, she ultimately ends up not appealing to Giovanni even when she generously offers herself to him at night. The allure of the strange and beautiful Veronica keeps him from finding any meaningful pleasure from Denise. Her attempts to satisfy him are met with indifference and ennui. A woman of living flesh and blood doesn’t do it for him. Without knowing it, Giovanni prefers one from beyond.
There are so many obvious hints at what could possibly be going on; it’s surprising the movie doesn’t spring for a more twisty ending, but it doesn’t really need it in this case. Through poignant transitions between flash backs, we ultimately get clarity on the history of this bloodline and how the Count developed a meaningful but tragic relationship with his cousin when they were young. Since Veronique died young, her ghost remains eternally youthful. With the Count now an old man, Veronique has come for the young Giovanni. Is the lovely Veronique/Veronica friend or foe? A little bit of both, I’d say.
I have to mention, Alba Rigazzi really does bring something ethereal and alluring, but not intentionally scary, with her screen presence as the enchanting wrath, Veronique. That leitmotif (courtesy of Giorgio Gaslini (Deep Red)) heard at certain times when she manifests is beautifully haunting. I didn’t even realize until after a couple of rewatches, but Rigazzi also plays the nurse from the beginning of the movie. When Giovanni arrives at the hospital, as he’s sitting in the waiting room, the hallway behind him strangely lights up, as an almost heavenly female voice calls to him. I first thought this was just a weird peculiarity, but it’s actually Veronique, already setting things in motion for Giovanni.
La lunga notte di Veronique has style and substance. It’s well written, elegant and moving as well as depressing and unnerving, and viewers won’t be left scratching their heads at the end (not that that’s always a bad thing). I wouldn’t call it entirely a fun time since it is sad and gloomy for the most part. Even the flirty Denise can’t seem to cheer Giovanni up. It’s beauty still shines through the low fuzzy picture quality (I’m not sure if there’s a better version, but the screen caps I took are from the only version I could find). The impatient viewer might check out early, but I say that’s their loss.
© At the Mansion of Madness
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