B&W, 1965, 100 mins. / Directed by Mario Caiano / Starring Barbara Steele, Paul Müller / Retromedia/Ventura (US R1 NTSC) / WS (1.66:1)
After falling out of love with her money-grubbing, disinterested scientist husband, Stephen (Paul Müller), raven-haired Muriel (Steele) dallies in the greenhouse with the studly groundskeeper, David (Rik Battaglia). Unfortunately the doc catches them in the act, chains them to a wall, and begins torturing them to death, pausing only momentarily when Muriel claims she's revised her will, leaving her fortune to her goody-goody sister, Jenny (Steele again). Stephen follows through by electrocuting the lovers, surgically slicing out their hearts, and burning the remains. While not busy transfusing experimental serums into his haggard maid (Helga Liné), Stephen woos the mentally unstable Jenny and makes her his wife. However, she's soon suffering from bizarre dreams involving a stocking-faced killer in the greenhouse; will Jenny catch on to the murderous plot in time, or are supernatural forces also conspiring to unmask the villainous doctor?
One of the more widely seen Euro horrors from the golden age, Amanti d'oltretomba has circulated for years under a variety of titles, most commonly in a drastically truncated version entitled Nightmare Castle. Though no great shakes as a horror film, this gothic conflation of Italian horror tropes is a smorgasbord of delights for Barbara Steele fans.
Thanks to the workmanlike direction of genre-hopping director Mario Caiano, this Steele vehicle goes through the motions without ever tapping into the darker, visually arresting territory of Black Sunday or The Horrible Dr. Hichcock. What we get instead is a kinkier version of those old Boris Karloff potboilers like The Black Room, filled with plenty of wandering around dark castles, murders for profit, and scheming baddies who get theirs in the final reel. The real appeal here is watching Steele strut her stuff, both dark-haired and blonde, in roles ranging from tortured victim to terrorized innocent to vengeful, disfigured ghost. The black and white cinematography is serviceable, as is the loud, organ-filled Ennio Morricone score (interesting as a precursor to his work on Bluebeard, at the very least).
Clocking in just under 80 minutes, the standard American cut of Nightmare Castle has long been a home video mainstay thanks to its public domain status. Madacy issued this version on DVD in a murky, sorry-looking edition paired up with the fascinating Track of the Vampire, while those seeking the longer cut often had to make do with the English language, Japanese VHS release, Night of the Doomed. Retromedia's DVD of the complete cut, bearing the title of The Faceless Monster, looks significantly rougher than the Japanese transfer, with loads of digital glitches cluttering up the image. A loud, digital hissing sound is also evident for the first five minutes, then mercifully disappears. Part of the problem lies with the brightness level, which can be rectified with a little player or TV adjustment to get the black levels back to normal. However, it's reasonably priced and complete, and it's certainly an improvement over most other home video options. Extras are limited to a meager Steele gallery of stills, which will be of interest to her fans at least.
