Color, 1965, 88 mins. / Directed by Mario Bava / Starring Barry Sullivan, Norma Bengell, Angel Aranda, Evi Marandi / MGM (US R1 NTSC) / WS (1.85:1), Legend (Germany R2 PAL), IIF (Italy R2 PAL) / WS (1.85:1) (16:9)

After altering the face of gothic horror and establishing the slasher film, Mario Bava returned to American International Pictures for a low budget science fiction project entitled Terrore nello Spazio. Known by various titles over the years but most widely available on video as Planet of the Vampires, the film posed a formidable challenge through the demand for extensive special effects and the creation of an otherworldly atmosphere created with limited means. Once again Bava's ingenuity and crafty visual sense produced an effective genre classic whose influence still lingers today.

An S.O.S. signal in space draws two ships to a seemingly uninhabited, mist enshrouded planet. For no apparent reason the crew members of one ship kill each other in a violent frenzy, while the second ship, the Argos, is saved by the will of the steadfast Captain Markary (Barry Sullivan). While the bodies of the dead are buried in transparent bags (and a few of the deceased vanish without a trace), the astronauts explore their new terrain and discover traces of past alien voyagers left to die on the planet. Furthermore, the dead crew members seem to be still roaming the dark, misty landscape, and the lines separating the living and the dead begin to blur. The invisible force which destroyed one ship now seems to be wreaking havoc across the planet, and Markary and his crew have only a limited amount of time to repair their damaged ship and escape this terrain of the dead.

Though consigned to the matinee crowd during its release, Planet of the Vampires (which really doesn't have any literal vampires at all) has enjoyed a steadily growing reputation both through the increased appreciation of its director and the frequently noted story parallels to 1979's Alien. However, the film also functions perfectly well on its own terms; the slow pacing allows each creepy visual to seemingly pop out of nowhere, and the images of resuscitated astronauts tearing the plastic away as they rise of the earth are not easily forgotten. As usual Bava floods the screen with unnatural, saturated colors, and the sincerity of its construction allows the viewer to easily overlook the typical '60s conventions of its sci-fi trappings. While Antonio Margheriti's space sagas like Wild, Wild Planet offer delightful, eye-catching fun, Bava's film is really the only legitimate Italian science fiction film capable of being appreciated as a genuine work of art. Though the actors (Sullivan included) are workmanlike at best, the story (penned by AIP regular Ib Melchior, from Renato Pestriniero's short story, "One Night of 21 Hours") grips through its sheer oddness and the power of its memorable, Twilight Zone-style twist denouement.

First available on video from HBO and Thorn/EMI, Planet of the Vampires featured a decent but cropped transfer with a passable new Kendall Schmidt electronic score. The same edition appeared on laserdisc through Orion and Image, doubled up with Curtis Harrington's endearingly bizarre Queen of Blood (which shares two similar alternate titles, Planet of Blood and Planet of Vampires, with those given to Bava's film). After vanishing for a few years, Planet went through the restoration process at MGM, where it has surfaced in a dramatically improved widescreen (but non-anamorphic) transfer. The ads claimed the film was shot in "Colorscope," though this seems to be just standard hard matting (around 1.78:1 to 1.85:1) like Bava's other titles from the same period. The original, more subdued theatrical score has been reinstated (though to be honest, it won't make a tremendous difference to casual viewers), but more importantly, the image now glows with a hellish luminous quality sorely missing from previous editions. The film runs about two minutes longer than the 86 minute HBO print, presumably confined to some more character exposition or footage of actors wandering through the mist. Hopefully some Bava fanatics out there can more accurately pinpoint where the restored footage has been placed, as it doesn't immediately stand out. The disc also includes the amusing U.S. theatrical trailer, which makes the film look like a particularly unhinged episode of Star Trek. While Bava fanatics would have probably appreciated a few more extras, there's no arguing with the low price for a disc that unquestionably delivers. The same elements were also used for a higher resolution German 16x9 DVd release as well as occasional high-definition TV screenings.

For a fascinating variant, fans may also want to hunt down the Italian DVD (as Terrore nello spazio), which retains Bava's original cut of the film in Italian with optional English or Italian subtitles. The opening and closing credits here play out completely over black with the creepy ambient score gurgling underneath, a far more foreboding approach than the rather clunky Christmas light credits of the English language cut. Several scenes reveal slightly different editing and bits of alternate/additional footage, while the Italian dialogue thankfully eliminates the unintentional chuckles generated by the iffy English dub track. Picture quality is absolutely stunning, with pin-sharp detail and perfect colors. Don't expect much in the way of extras, though; all you get is a photo gallery and a look at the "2005 Venice Cult Film Festival."

The same company, IIF (Italian Inernational [sic] Film), has also released a welcome English-subtitled version of Bava's Dr. Goldfoot and the Girl Bombs (under its original title, Le spie vengono dal semifreddo). Notoriously mangled by AIP in its English language incarnation (with the usual Les Baxter score commissioned to replace the original by Lalo Gorri), the film fares somewhat better in Italian. Bava's visual panache is noticeably pulled back here, though the boffo opening credits and a few nice flourishes here and there in the production design reveal the hand of the master who went on to Danger: Diabolik. Comedic leads Franco & Ciccio aren't very amusing no matter what language they're speaking, but the experience of co-stars Vincent Price and Fabian yakking in Italian certainly has its curiosity value. Anamorphic picture quality is excellent overall (though a handful of shots appear to be taken from a blearier print).

Color, 1961, 82 mins. / Directed by Mario Bava / Starring Reg Park, Christopher Lee, Leonora Ruffo, George Ardisson / Music by Armando Trovajoli / Produced by Achille Piazzi / Fantoma (US R1 NTSC) / WS (2.35:1) (16:9)

Though Black Sunday lifted the black and white horror film to new levels of visual artistry, Mario Bava wildly swerved into new territory the following year with Hercules in the Haunted World, a blazingly colorful mixture of gothic horror and peplum fantasy which stands as one of the most memorable entries in the often derided sword and sandal genre. A stylish concoction of luminous landscapes, ghoulish monsters, and eccentric plot twists, this is miles away from your standard Steve Reeves bodybuilding opus. And it has Christopher Lee as a villain, too!

After performing labors abroad, Hercules (Reg Park) is reunited with his best friend, the lothario Theseus (George Ardisson). Unfortunately Hercules' true love, Deianira (Leonora Ruffo), has passed into a strange trance and no longer recognizes the world around her. The shifty King Lico (Lee) advises Hercules to seek help from an oracle, who reveals that the only cure for Deianira lies in the underworld, specifically the powerful golden Apple of the Hesperides which provides access to the coveted Stone of Forgetfulness. Along with the bumbling Telemachus, Hercules (who has relinquished his immortality) and Theseus set off to the other side where they encounter a land of eternal night, filled with rock monsters, bubbling pools of lava, and deadly flying bloodsuckers. However, the greatest threat is yet to come...

Thanks to his extensive experience as a cinematographer, Bava brings a fully formed sensibility to his first color film and lays out the visual motifs which would latter reach full bloom in such classics as Planet of the Vampires. Using a minimal budget and limited sets to his advantage, Bava turns his soundstages and miniatures into delirious whirlpools of color and texture, pitting his actors against a seemingly endless array of imaginative obstacles. The heroes' climb over bubbling lava, for example, is an expertly rendered example of a special effects set piece created from the barest elements posssible, while the forest and tomb sequences bring the established environments of Black Sunday into a new context, splashed with unnatural waves of red and blue light. The actors can't help but pale against such settings, but Park makes for one of the more interesting and intelligent Italian muscelemen, while Lee as usual makes for an imposing figure despite his relatively limited screentime. A subplot involving Theseus' infatuation with Persephone, the mythical daughter of Pluto, is also imaginatively handled and fits in nicely with the doom-laden romances of Bava's subsequent work.

Most widely seen in a laughably dubbed U.S. version from Woolner Brothers which omits and reshuffles several chunks of footage, Hercules in the Haunted World finds much of its dignity restored with this long overdue, definitive treatment of the original, undoctored edition. Boasted the European English language title of Hercules at the Center of the Earth on the actual print, this transfer contains the original opening title sequence (against a stony tomb) and thankfully preserves both the dopey English dub track and the original Italian version which, while less faithful to the actors' actual lip movements, adds some desperately needed gravity to the potentially silly storyline. The optional English subtitles translate the Italian dialogue directly, which makes for a fascinating comparison against the more simplistic English dub.

Generations of bad prints and worse PD videotapes have offered only a hint of the visual glories to be found in Bava's second film; the DVD offers the original scope framing (or at least most of it-- the precise aspect ratio has been the subject of guesswork for years) as well as a wonderfully saturated color presentation which puts this up there with the finest of the Bava home video releases available. As with other European films of this vintage, the film stock betrays some signs of graininess and instability at times, but this is miles ahead of how the film has looked on television before. The disc also includes some nicely conversational liner notes by Tim Lucas (who pulls out some wonderfully odd trivia in the last paragraph), a ragged looking U.S. trailer, and an extensive photo and poster gallery. While Bava fanatics and fans of European horror will find this purchase a given, even those who avoid sword and sandal films should find this stellar entry more than worthwhile.

Color, 1966, 85 mins.

Directed by Mario Bava

Starring Giacomo Rossi Stuart, Erika Blanc, Fabienne Dali, Piero Lulli, Max Lawrence, Gianna Vivaldi / Music by Carlo Rustichelli / Cinematography by Antonio Rinaldi

Format: DVD - VCI (MSRP $19.99)

Full Frame / Dolby Digital Mono

This oppressive and visually overwhelming exercise in the conjuring of atmosphere allowed Mario Bava to crank the gothic stylistic tendencies of Black Sunday into overdrive, finally permitting him to churn out scene after scene of hallucinatory intensity with only the barest threads of a plot to hold it all together. The avenging demonic forces of his past films have been distilled here into the single, chilling image of a ghostly young girl, rolling a sinister pale ball down hallways and street corners as she drives those around her to certain death. Rarely has a more haunting or unforgettable specter graced the horror cinema, and even had he never made another film after this, Bava would have already proven himself as a master filmmaker.

A young coroner named Dr. Eswai (or Eswe, depending on your source) (Giacomo Rossi-Stuart) arrives at a desolate Eastern European village and makes the acquaintance of the beautiful Monica (Erika Blanc), a medically trained native who has recently returned to her home. Together they perform an autopsy on a young maid who died under mysterious circumstances while employed at the eerie Villa Graps on the edge of town. The autopsy turns up a gold coin imbedded into the girl's heart, a local superstition carried out by the local witch, Ruth (Fabienne Dali), who uses home remedies to aid her townspeople. Eswai goes to the Villa Graps where the reclusive Baroness (Gianna Vivaldi) proves to be less than forthcoming. Apparently the villagers' callous irresponsibility led to the death of her young daughter, Melissa, who now haunts the town at night and strikes down those who even dare to mention her name...

Years before he exploded the conventions of spatial reality in Lisa and the Devil, Bava was already tampering quite daringly with cinematic storytelling in this film. The final half hour contains some magnificent sequences bound to disorient the hardiest viewer, including effective use of a seemingly endless spiralling staircase and a brilliant, Avengers-like conceit which finds the doctor trapped in endless circle within the same cluster of room. Fans of Euro starlets will also enjoy the presence of Blanc, who later steamed up drive-in screens as the star of The Devil's Nightmare. Regular Bava composer Carlo Rustichelli provides the score once again (supplemented by some Roman Vlad passages), including a few quotes from his previous Blood and Black Lace score, some apparently augmented by the U.S. distributor.

Though picked up by MGM for one of its many theatrical runs, Kill, Baby... Kill! (original title: Operaziona Paura, or Operation Fear) has remained one of the more difficult Bava horror titles to see in a form even close to its creator's intentions. A heavily truncated version entitled Curse of the Living Dead made the rounds as part of a notorious "Living Dead" triple bill in the late '60s, while the original version occasionally turned up on late night television and various public domain video labels. Relatively speaking, VCI's disc is the most watchable of the available options, thanks to the restoration of Bava's vibrant color schemes in which unnatural bursts of green, red, and blue accompany the characters' gradual descent into supernatural madness. Flesh tones look pale and dull, however, and the heavy graininess resulting from the 16mm makes the film look rougher and cheaper than it probably should. Also, the mild cropping from the original compositions (somewhere between 1.66:1 and 1.78:1) results in actors' faces scraping perilously close to the edge of frame. These debits aside, however, it's a great leap over the familiar Sinister Cinema version, for example, and should be enough to tide Bava fans over until a pristine widescreen version turns up somewhere. The disc also includes trailers for The Bird with the Crystal Plumage, Blood and Black Lace, and The Night Visitor, all accessible from a menu screen decorated in puzzling fashion with butcher knives.

Color, 1964, 90 mins.

Directed by Mario Bava

Starring Cameron Mitchell,Eva Bartok, Thomas Reiner, Ariana Gorini, Mary Arden, Franco Ressel, FrancescaUngaro, Claude Dantes, Harriet White, Lea Lander / Written by Marchello Fondato, MarioBava & Guiseppe Barilla / Music by Carlo Rustichelli / Cinematographyby Ubaldo Terzano

Format: DVD - VCI (MSRP$29.95)

Letterboxed (1.66:1) / DolbyDigital Mono

After more attempts than onecould ever want to count, Mario Bava'sseminal body count giallo, Blood and Black Lace, has finallybeen released in a worthy videoedition for English speaking viewers. A stripped down, delirious tour ofa candy-colored murder zone, this was really the first film to merge the fashion world with ritualistic murders, and none of its imitators have managed to capture the same level of intensity. Originally released asSei Donne per l'Assassino (or Six Women for the Murderer), Bava's film encountered censorship problems around the world and has been virtually impossible to see in its complete form until now.

In the powerful opening sequence, sneaky model Isabella exchanges a few furtive words with her junkie coworker outside the Haute Couture fashion salon. She then wanders into the windy night, only to be assaultedby a masked psychopath who disfigures her face with the help of tree barkand strangles her. The murder sets off a chain reaction of terror and suspicion among her coworkers, who fear what she may have written in a recently discovered diary. The salon owner, recently widowed Countess Christina Cuomo (Eva Bartok), and the manager, Max (or Massimo on the Italian track) Morlacchi (Cameron Mitchell), cooperate with the dogged Inspector Sylvester (Thomas Reiner) to untangle the intricate web of drugs, blackmail, and sex which has turned a sleek glamor palace into the stomping grounds for a lunatic. The diary passes through several other hands, all of them swiftly cut down by the ruthless killer, before a double twist ending exposes the nasty truth.

While the storyline maybe mechanical in the extreme, Bava uses this rigid structure to weave a series of spellbinding, colorful set pieces much in the style of an MGM musical, with the plot stopping every ten minutes or so for another wild demonstration of virtuosity. Particularly dazzling is an extended chase scene through an abandoned antique shop at night, illuminated by Bava's signature gel lighting and accompanied by Carlo Rustichelli's terrific latin-influenced score. While most of the performers are simply fodder for their inevitable turn with the killer, Bartok and Mitchell manage to turn in intriguing performances, alternately vulnerable and suspicious, while the women look appropriately lovely in their designer label perfection. For proof of this film's influence beyond the Euro horror market (which spent at least one decade imitating it), look to such relatively recent slasher films as I Know What You Did Last Summer, which manages to crib the entire antique store sequence almost shot for shot. Accept no substitutes.

The complete history of Blood and Black Lace has become an exercise in frustration for many horror fans. The original U.S. prints and first VHS video (from Media Home Entertainment) were trimmed, with the opening murder of Isabella lacking a few brutal seconds of her tree bashing. More significantly, the bathtub murder near the climax of the film was missing several shots of Claude Dantes in a see-through bra, floating dead in the tub as blood begins to seep from her wrists. The Japanese laserdisc was likewise edited but at least letterboxed (a little overzealously at 1.85:1), fairly colorful,and containing the beautiful original European opening titles shot by Bava himself (under the Six Women for a Murderer title). Sinister Cinema released a semi-letterboxed edition on VHS containing the full bathtub murder but taken from a touch-and-go print littered with scratches and speckles. Then came the Roan edition on laserdisc, which included the amusing opening U.S. credits (from Filmation) in very poor shape, with warbly sound, but restored the first murder. Unfortunately the bathtub murder was still cut, causing a severe jump cut as the killer'smask is removed, not to mention a gash in the music; considering that this is arguably the most famous scene in the film (and immortalized uncut in the opening credits of Pedro Almodovar's Matador), this oversight was galling.

VCI's DVD rectifies all of these problems, using a beautiful letterboxed transfer prepared for Australian television and grafting on the European credits (along with a mercifully tasteful video-generatedtitle card), which are in slightly inferior condition but still quite watchable.The transfer boasts gorgeous saturated colors and generally good black levels which only become slightly unstable in a couple of scenes duringthe first reel. The disc includes the original English dialogue track as well as the Italian and French tracks, with optional English subtitles translated from the Italian (which makes for some very interesting comparisons).Video Watchdog's Tim Lucas provides a commentary very much in thevein of his previous work on the Black Sunday disc; scholarly but never dull, he packs in a tremendous amount of information accumulated from decades of research, including biographical trivia, filming anecdotes,and aesthetic observations guaranteed to enhance one's appreciation of the film. The DVD also includes the original U.S. trailer, as well as virtuallyidentical French and Italian trailers, bonus trailers for Erik the Conquerorand the French trailer for The Whip and the Body, as well as a video interview of Cameron Mitchell by David Del Valle (carried over from theRoan laser) and a video interview with Mary Arden. The factual information in the Mitchell interview is highly questionable-- Mitchell claims to have made six films for Mario Bava and refers to his filmmaking son as"Umberto" instead of Lamberto. Other goodies include a gallery of photos and promotional art, an isolated soundtrack presentation of four tracks from the original rare Italian vinyl release, and the alternate American credits.

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