Thursday, November 21, 2024

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 ArsanMon 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?


 

Marcello is an architect who lives in a sweet Italian villa, with a live-in French maid Giselle (Karin Fiedler) and a groundskeeper/butler Giovanni (Gianni Dei), not to mention an absolutely gorgeous wife Micaela (Konopka just pours her soul into this performance of a housewife pushed to hysteria). Micaela is unable to have children, so one day she decides to give up trying and instead adopt her adult niece Letizia, pulling Letizia out of boarding school in the process. For the household, Letizia fills a kind of void, which, if the title didn’t give it away, ends up being a woeful course of action for all involved.

 

Director and co-writer Salvatore Bugnatelli did not seem to be a lucrative filmmaker, with only a handful of films credited to him as director, all of which he did have writing credits for. Diabolicamente… Letizia looks to be the only horror/thriller film he made, and it’s kind of a hard one to love. 

It’s not the most beautiful film, with dull colors (except for Micaela’s psychedelic caftan dress) and a somewhat depressive setting. The story isn’t the most streamlined and does seem to meander at times, and the isolated countryside mansion in this case feels a little more claustrophobic than cozy. Despite this, I still have a weird attraction to it. 

The synth/harpsicord/organ laden main theme by Giuliano Sorgini is a melodic mood builder that I like to think of as Letizia’s theme, as the mood feels quite curious and entrancing but also potentially fatal.

 

Letizia is kind of the movie’s monster, but she is also a catalyst for a lot of unease and drama. In her own way, with her advances, and apparent magic spells, towards everyone in the household, revving up some serious sexual tension, she’s essentially turning several characters against one another, making the women hysterical and the men confused (and terrified at one point). She’s here to unsettle. She is shameless, but it’s not necessarily because she is taking charge of her sexual freedom or demonstrating what sexual liberation looks like; it’s more for a vague and insidious agenda. Older men and women seem to lose themselves around her. It isn’t always their fault since she does sinfully tempt them before rebuffing them, laughing as she rudely humiliates them for daring to receive her advances. (Watch for an amusing moment when Letizia briefly transforms into a werewolf to scare off the butler. It worked as an effective jump-scare for me more than once.)


 

Letizia can also remotely cast some kind of spell, usually by channeling energy into photographs, that puts Micaela into an entranced state of hyperarousal, so that she offers herself at different times to the butler Giovanni, her husband, or even the maid Giselle. It’s a trance, so that when the spell is broken and Micaela comes to, she ends up indignant regarding her own sexual behavior, getting hysterically mean to the other person she came on to, blaming them for taking advantage of her and a host of additional problems. Someone is also off-screen snapping photos every time Micaela or Marcello commit sexual transgressions.

 

The only person Letizia seduces to fully make love, without rebuffing them, is her aunt’s husband Marcello. This occurs after she comes home late one night following some kind of highly suggestive off-camera initiation ritual that her mob of new hippie friends push and drag her off to. She comes home in a non-responsive state, possibly traumatized or maybe on drugs, but she ends up pulling Marcello in when he shows concern, placing his hand over her breasts. It’s like a kind of horny spell she’s under that also rubs off on Marcello leading to their affair that the hidden photographer also captures, assumedly for scandalous reasons.

 

After sleeping with her, Marcello maintains a fondness for Letizia, but he also feels awkward, which is most apparent when she pulls him to the dance floor with a much younger crowd in one of the film’s night club scenes. He tends to regard himself as too busy and professional to be hanging around Letizia and her younger crowd of friends. She compliments him and assures him she enjoyed their affair and was not high when she took him. He seems mildly flattered but also uneasy. She’s trying to awaken him and to help him understand the youth culture of the era better by sleeping with him and convincing him to buy a motorcycle. Since she’s diabolical, it should be obvious that this isn’t the generous and altruistic midlife crises support we might think it is.

 

Her true intensions come down to a kind of “revenge” by her dead mother that is not really explained, so that the end revelation ends up being no surprise while also confusing without much in the way of a payoff. Unless I’m missing something (possibly something unjust about Letizia’s mother’s death), the nature of this revenge is hard to grasp, since Micaela is taking care of Letizia with love and care, fulfilling an apparent promise she made to her sister on her deathbed, so all that comes to pass seems harshly undeserved. (Unless the “revenge” was simply for putting Letizia in boarding school where she ended up into the hands of an occultist.)

 

Even though I’ve mostly been talking about the title character, here, I also really like the sexually assertive French maid, Giselle, who seems legitimately interested in making love, with sincerity and confidence. Unfortunately, Giselle is also caught in Letizia’s web. A brief but memorable side character, the professor’s wife Eva (Ada Pometti), tries to console Micaela about her previous physical interaction with Giselle, assuring her that there can be love between women without shame.

 

Xiro Papas’s mysterious occultist character is a bit of a wild card here. He’s in the background, usually strolling the grounds of the villa with mysterious motives and obviously up to no good. No one seems to notice the sizeable, alarming mustachioed man in a dark hat and trench coat in the background. He reminds me of a bad guy in a western. Seen in a cheap skull mask at times, he sometimes comes off as death, as he does accompany several demises.


 

Diabolicamente… Letizia does work as an interesting erotic horror film, despite being a bit of a slog at times. It manages to make its erotic situations dark and depressing, courtesy of a convincing young sexual antagonist. It’s not always the most exciting, and boy is there some serious drama on hand, but it does have a nice atmospheric, dark erotic ‘70s mood to it that makes it a certain kind of attractive to me. This film stayed on the backburner for review for some time, but I can say that it is worth revisiting, especially if erotic Italian horror is your thing. 

Like I said, it does deliver on the erotic level, but the characters are usually conflicted since they find themselves crossing lines they usually wouldn’t cross if not for Letizia. She is able to take advantage of this neuroticism everyone seems to have towards erotic freedom and turn them against each other. I can’t help thinking if the characters would’ve embraced this breakdown of their inhibitions, without jealousy and shame, then Letizia would’ve been powerless against them. When everyone has forgotten how to love, the evil seductive love witch wins. 

© At the Mansion of Madness




 

Tuesday, August 13, 2024

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

Poster art by Veseta
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. 

Wednesday, May 8, 2024

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 ArsanMon 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).

Friday, January 26, 2024

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.

Sunday, October 29, 2023

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.

Sunday, July 30, 2023

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 ArsanL’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.

Sunday, April 30, 2023

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.

Thursday, March 2, 2023

Zelda (1974)

“You came to watch this movie just to see two naked women… You have a colonialist mentality.” – Alberto Cavallone on the ending to Le salamandre*  

“I would like, as I said, for the lover’s place to be in the middle of the couple.” – Emmanuelle Arsan**    

Alberto Cavallone’s films are not fun. I can’t think of one I’ve seen that does not have a depressing ending. Whether or not they are entertaining might depend on the viewer’s mindset, but they are almost always enthralling in a way. You might think you’re being lured in for an erotically fun time, with films like Le salamandre (1969) and Blow Job (1980), or a film with a notorious reputation that precedes it like Blue Movie (1978), but that’s just to get you in front of the screen so the film can put a mirror in front of you, whether or not you realize it, and call you a colonizer or a degenerate (who Cavallone referred to as the “raincoat crowd”), crudely interrupting your titillation. Basically, if the film upsets or antagonizes you, then it was made for you. What’s fascinating is that the films nevertheless did well with the audiences Cavallone was hoping to annoy.  

Cavallone dismissed his own erotic thriller Zelda as a commercial effort, lacking the sociopolitical content of his previous films. On the surface, the movie does have an erotic pull to it, with the promise of interracial lesbian scenes, in a manner similar to Le salamandre. Like Le salamandre, the erotic pull ends up not being the main point of the movie, and with Zelda, Cavallone is critical, or at least dreadfully pessimistic, of the loose sex lives of married couples and the en vogue erotic film of the era while also making his film look very much like one.