Marco Bellocchio’s bewitching romance The Witches’ Sabbath is next-level surreal Italian witch horror, especially when it comes to the visuals. For me, it’s one of many descendants or even a culmination of Mario Bava’s Black Sunday (1960), but those well-known sacrificial witch-burning spectacles and inquisition tropes we’ve seen so many times at this point are given a makeover and an interesting alternate take. Familiar themes of reincarnation and romance are intentionally ambiguous, as we’re not really sure if the interactions with the witch are real or the fancy of a romantic dreamer. And if the witch is real, it’s anyone’s guess if she represents a fatal attraction for the human lover. These uncertainties still make for an enjoyably mystifying experience that really captivates with some of the best unreal and imaginative visuals that are worth the price alone. The film also has a surreal factor to it that keeps it interesting, with a real ‘80s fantasy feel to it at times.
Considering the worldwide impact she must’ve made playing the unstable, complicated but highly desirable love interest as the title character in Jean-Jacques Beineix’s successful Betty Blue (1986), it’s no surprise that Italian producers were interested in casting Béatrice Dalle in this complex witch/romance drama that kind of feels like a supernatural successor to Betty Blue. Dalle really does feel right for the role. Actually, I think she fits this part to a tee.
It’s important here to have a stunning lead that can capture the attention of any viewer and have the kind of dark and haunting beauty to make her convincing as a desirable witch, and Dalle has all of this in spades. She really sells the surreal sex scene with her co-star Daniel Ezralow with her expressions. This is a love scene I really feel each time I see it. Dalle also gives an impressive, emotional backstory monologue that lasts over two minutes, detailing the time she encountered Napolean that may or may not be delusional. Everything she is saying seems like lies, but she also comes off as sincere.
The film starts and ends with some impressive pyrotechnics. It had my attention at the very beginning with Beatrice Dalle in the foreground when a sudden fire explosion drops behind her, like a ball of burning witch energy that can’t touch her. The lingering shot of the witch’s melancholic silhouette here against the background fire is a powerful visual that will stay with you.
Centuries in the past, during an inquisition of an imprisoned woman (Dalle) accused of being a witch, a man attending the examination, Davide (Daniel Ezralow), seems to show pity (or is it fascination?) and falls in love with the accused. Being the only one to really care about her, it’s implied that he saves her and forms an emotional bond with the witch that lasts through the centuries.
In the present day, Davide wakes from a dream. He’s a psychiatrist who works in an asylum with women suffering from delusions and mania, which kind of makes him the right man for an upcoming job of evaluating a prisoner who claims to be an immortal witch. He later travels with his wife, Cristina (Corinne Touzet), to an old town to evaluate this woman, Maddalena (Dalle again), imprisoned for attempted murder, who claims to be born in the year 1630. She appears to be the same persecuted witch from Davide’s dream, who he feels hopelessly drawn too.
When Maddalena is first introduced to Davide in the present, we are treated to an insane hallucination, a spiraling visual that had me reeling. I wouldn’t be surprised if this image of Maddalena literally spiraling in front of Davide becomes a widely used GIF someday. I’m baffled every time I see it. (What kind of off-screen spinning contraption was the actress affixed to?) It’s a truly remarkable sequence (one of many) that hypnotizes and creeps me out every time. I absolutely love it.
Just as she was in the past life, Maddalena is still a prisoner today, with it being alluded to that she may not deserve her imprisonment. Davide feels she may need help, not prison, and perhaps that is why he is here for her now, as he was then. Davide may hope he can "save" her and be with her again, but at what cost?
Maddalena can be thought of as both a potential threat and a source of happiness and love for Davide (a blessing or a curse?). There’s a tenderness between the two. It feels like they belong together, but everything in the universe is making it complicated for them to find that love again. He may have loved her in a previous life, and now their paths have crossed again in unfortunate circumstances. (I love the way she just pops into scenes when he is thinking of her, like she is a ghost.)
What is intriguing is that like the lead I too felt the same level of concern, fascination, and emotional attachment to Maddalena. It’s a familiar depiction of what it’s like to think you are under someone’s spell. I mean, just look at the way he keeps looking at her. The guy is drunk with love. She’s always on his mind, but imprisoned as much today as she was then, seeing a vision of her, in a cage, literally outside of his top story window, so close but fatally out of reach, opposite his hotel dwelling. And freeing her from it seems impossible.
Davide does happen to be married, but that doesn’t seem to stop the allurement. He even gives “the witch” his wedding ring when she asks for it, an uncontrollable impulse of switching over his fidelity. In a way, by carrying his wedding ring, she carries his love with her.
Davide’s wife does love him, but her tears suggests that she can feel he is switching on her. Honestly, there’s really nothing wrong with his wife; she (Touzet) looks great, but she ends up coming off as a shunned goddess in favor of “the witch” who has re-entered Davide’s life.
The big showstopper set piece that most will remember this film by happens when Davide appears to find himself at some kind of nexus between past and present (where everyone can get their freak on), and a mass of witchlike peasants accost him. I believe this is the witches’ sabbath the title alludes to. (I want to say they represent a hedonistic world that Maddalena is a part of.)
Eventually, the wall of witches slowly encroaches upon him, emerging from the fog and lightning, almost as if they are about to attack, but Davide seems to show no fear and is happy to come off just as crazy as them. It kind of reminds me of being in a nightmare, and instead of getting scared or bewildered you decide to play along and have fun in the moment, maybe even trying to overpower it, and eventually the nightmare turns playful. By doing this, it’s like he’s allowed himself to enter a society he otherwise wouldn’t really belong to in order to better stay connected with Maddalena and this kind of foreign world she inhabits. Maybe they also represent all of the crazy patients he has to deal with as a psychiatrist.
This part plays out for a while, feeling like interpretive dance. It’s like Ezralow and all the extras and actors involved successfully got in touch with their inner witch. Everyone seems to lose themselves in the moment, and the outcome to the spectacle is marvelously spellbinding, creative, and original. Something about it feels impromptu, where everyone is giving it their all and just running with it. The film kind of enters and exits this part as if it was a dream.
I like the complementary past and present in the film. Both feel very authentic. The separation between the timelines seems to become irrelevant after a while, as the past emits an energy that melds with the present. I eventually found myself not concerned if we were in the present, past, or some other realm. That all of the old buildings (I’m mostly talking about the marvelous external view of the buildings of Pitigliano) in the present setting haven’t changed in centuries also contributes to the feeling of being in some kind of timeless realm.
When all is said and done, you can’t help but ask yourself if it’s all just Davide’s fancy, but it’s better to accept that Maddalena is an immortal witch, and it was always Davide’s fate to dance with the witches.
The Witches’ Sabbath is kind of a dense film that I also found enjoyable watching in segments. It feels like you can attempt to watch it all together or focus in on individual sections to savor and even rewatch to get the most out of the film. I feel it’s an unfairly shunned worthwhile Italian horror/drama that too many are oblivious of. Like many others, it doesn’t deserve to be forgotten.
© At the Mansion of Madness
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