Il mostro dell'opera (1964) [f/1961]

... aka: Il vampiro dell'opera (The Vampire of the Opera)

... aka: L'orgie des vampires (The Vampire Orgy)

... aka: Monster of the Opera, The

Directed by:

Renato Polselli

Though predated a few years by I VAMPIRI (1957), the international hit BLACK SUNDAY (1960), itself prompted into existence by recent period-set, costume horror successes from UK's Hammer, is usually given credit for kick starting the gothic horror revival in Italy. Soon after, dozens of similar films were produced there over the next five or so years, many quite beautifully and atmospherically shot in black-and-white, though some were in color (and no less beautifully or atmospherically shot when in the hands of someone like Mario Bava). While most of these suffered from pacing, story and dialogue issues, often due to the horrendous dubbing they received and hack-job re-edits, others suffered more because they barely received much of a release at all. 

Case in point is The Monster of the Opera. This was shot all the way back in 1961 but not released until three years later. It never even made it over here to the U.S., nor to any other English-speaking country, and thus never received an English-friendly release until over half a century after the fact. That means the movie not only didn't play in theaters, but it also didn't turn up on late night TV nor in video rental shops and was never able to build up any kind of reputation whatsoever. I'm only aware of Italian and French theatrical releases and wasn't even able to find an old video release in either of those countries. Once you actually sit through the movie itself, it all starts making sense.

 

We're hit in the face with the film's true intentions right at the start, as a beautiful young woman in a see-through negligee (though wearing bra and panties - this was still the early 60s, after all!) is pursued through an abandoned theater and then outside by a vampire brandishing a HUGE pitchfork. That gives way to a bunch of voluptuous starlets stretching, gossiping, giggling and dancing around in their leotards. One gets the immediate impression that much more screen time is going to be dedicated to showcasing the charms of the female cast as it will be to the horror elements, and that's exactly what happens here. Something mildly refreshing starts taking shape after a few minutes, though. In a subgenre known for evil, duplicitous and / or depressive characters in dreary period settings, we're introduced to a bunch of bouncy and vibrant young folks who laugh, flirt, make jokes, play pranks and run around happily spouting witty dialogue in a modern day setting.

"Marc Maryan" / Marco Mariani (TOMB OF TORTURE) stars as aspiring theater director Sandro, who's filled with good spirits and enthusiasm after having purchased an old, run-down theater called Aquarius. OK, so the place is rumored to be haunted, former performers claim to have been trapped inside by "invisible walls," a handful of previous actresses who'd performed there vanished without a trace and were never seen again, psychics who tried to investigate were driven away by a "sinister presence" and the building's grumpy caretaker, Achille ("Albert Archet" / Alberto Archetti), tries in vain to steer him away from the purchase, but it's just too good of a deal to pass up! It's also the perfect place for Sandro to stage his new play, which has been rejected by all of the other theaters. Now he won't have to worry about any of that since he'll be calling all of the shots. Soon, the theater is overrun with high energy cast and crew; guys in skeleton costumes and girls in undies, babydoll nighties and short, short togas (part of the play seems to be set in Roman times).

Giulia (Barbara Hawards), the production's lead actress, and also Sandro's leading lady off stage, has a strange feeling she's been there before. She also has a strange feeling she's met Achille before. That's because both have been prominently featured in a recurring nightmare she's been having about a vampire. Said vampire, Stefano ("John McDouglas" / Giuseppe Addobbati), eventually shows up in the flesh (at the midway point!) and (nearly an hour into this 80-minute film) attempts to put the bite to dancer Rossana (Vittoria Prada) but she manages to get away, Who he really wants is Giulia, the reincarnation of Laura, a (married) lover from hundreds of years ago who betrayed him. 

One of the lone good ideas here is that lying in the vampire's coffin and closing the lid allows one to enter into the bloodsucker's fogbound hidden lair, which appears to be in some kind of alternate dimension. There, he keeps a half dozen vampire brides, who've all gone mad, chained to the walls.

From a strictly visual standpoint, this is decent. There's good-looking black-and-white photography, a wonderful shooting location inside the old theater, nice art direction, lighting and use of shadow and fog, and some surprisingly good camerawork. The premise holds promise, the general atmosphere is quite good and things start out fun, but that fun soon gives way to tedium. Things move at a snail's pace, the plot is virtually nonexistent, the vampire is treated almost as an afterthought and most of the time is spent alternating between showing the girls running around shrieking and doing either their choreographed dances or impromptu frantic ones. While cleaning up, the cast randomly break into the Charleston and this hilariously even has the cast forced into a dance-for-your-life situation to ward off the evil at the end, as if this didn't already have too many filler dance scenes! The large cast also ensures that no one is really given much of a personality.

In addition to being a leg and undies fest, this puts a lot of focus on PG lesbianism, with the girls longingly staring into each other's eyes, caressing each other's shoulders, rubbing each other's legs, embracing, getting right in each other's faces as if they're about to kiss and, after a few are turned into vamps, nibbling on each other's necks. "Don't you feel that a friendship between two women is pure?" one dancer tells another as she seductively runs her fingers through her friend's hair. Instead of acting horrified, several of the girls act like they're in ecstasy when they're "speared" with the pitchfork, which is used to pin people down, not kill them. Subtle this is not. These bits may also explain why this was barely released. That, and the fact it's all pretty nonsensical and boring.

Most of the names in the cast list have been Anglicized, so it's difficult to know the true identity of most of these folks, though many appear to have been real-life dancers. Lead Barbara Hawards (most likely a pseudonym; she's called "Barbara Howard" on the posters) is very lovely so it's a shame this may have been her only film. Lost in the sea of other dancers is Milena Vukotic (playing "Carlotta"), the only one of the ladies who went on to much of an acting career. A trained dancer / ballerina herself, Vukotic would later act for the likes of Federico Fellini, Luis Buñuel and Andrei Tarkovsky and win most of Italy's top acting awards.

The director, who also co-wrote the script with Ernesto Gastaldi, had previously made THE VAMPIRE AND THE BALLERINA (1960), another entry in the 1960s Italian black-and-white Gothic cycle (also a much better film than this one), and would go on to work on some sleazier 70s genre films (usually utilizing the alias "Ralph Brown") like DELIRIUM (1972), MANIA (1974) and EROTIC GAMES OF A RESPECTABLE FAMILY (1975).

Discounting a French DVD release under the title L'orgie des vampires, which featured an English sub option but cobbled together a print from two different sources, the first English-friendly version was released by Sinister Cinema in 2020. That was followed by its inclusion in the 2023 Severin box set "Danza Macabra Volume One," which also included the forgettable THE SEVENTH GRAVE (1965), the mediocre SCREAM OF THE DEMON LOVER (1970) and, the most enjoyable of the lot by a fair margin, the minor cult classic Lady Frankenstein (1971).

★1/2

Tilbury (1987) (TV)

Directed by:

Viðar Víkingsson

Iceland wanted no part in WWII and declared neutrality, refusing to side with either the Nazis or the Allies. That's when the UK took it upon themselves to launch an invasion of the country, sending their Royal Navy and Marines there in 1940 against the Icelandic government's wishes. While this wasn't a bloody, violent takeover by any means, or really a takeover at all, the Brits certainly weren't wanted there at the time either. This was viewed as a major violation of the countries desire for independence. Looking through a retrospective lens, one can now say that the imposed British presence helped ward off a potential German takeover. It also was an important strategic decision, especially after Canadian and American forces joined the war efforts and tens of thousands of troops ended up stationed on the isolated, sparsely-populated North Atlantic island. However, this caused a lot of local turmoil, but perhaps not in the most expected of ways... 

Though the occupation brought money, jobs and improved infrastructure to the poor country, Icelandic menfolk became infuriated when many of "their" women began romantic relationships with the foreign soldiers. These women were branded traitors and prostitutes, and many of them were shunned by their friends and family. The government of Iceland even formed a special committee to try to crack down on these taboo relationships. It was unsuccessful, but the "problem" eventually solved itself as the war wound down and the troops started to leave.

While I know nobody's here for a history lesson (at least one not related to film), it's an important topic to discuss in regards to this particular film, which is deliberately commenting upon it. Tilbury is set in 1940, right after the British invasion, and stretches into 1941, when U.S. troops started arriving, and cleverly weaves its mythology (apparently based on local folklore) into this real life historical event.

Audun Thorarinsson (Kristján Franklín Magnús), a young, sheltered lad from the country with aspirations of becoming a professional swimmer, is sent to Reykjavík to help out the British troops and take advantage of their better pool facilities. While he's there, he hopes to reconnect with his childhood crush, a parson's daughter named Gudrún Innness (Helga Bernhard). Audun moves in with a widow and her rebellious teenage daughter, Sigrún (Erla Skúladóttir), who's basically the embodiment of what 40s era Icelandic men feared from their women. She smokes, drinks, asserts her independence and is unimpressed with uncultured local men ("ordinary yokels!"), instead opting to sneak out late at night to "entertain" soldiers.

Audun eventually runs across Gudrún, only to discover she has also hooked up with a Brit: Major Tilbury (Karl Ágúst Úlfsson). The catch? He's old, short, bald, obnoxious and hideously unattractive, with bushy eyebrows, a terrible complexion, a protruding chin and a huge nose. He also may already be married and has a bad habit of randomly projectile vomiting huge amounts of green something or other. What could she possibly see in such a grotesque character? Well, aside from the fact he's a high ranking member of the military supposedly descended from British royalty. And a snazzy dancer.

The few minutes of narration that opens the film has already clued us in to what's going on. According to legend, women facing hunger or hardship are able to bring a tiny imp called a "tilberi" to life by wrapping a human rib in wool, nestling it in their bosom and then activating it with communion wine. The tilberi will then go out and drink milk from livestock and produce a substance called "tilberi butter." The butter, which has a strange consistency and greenish color, can entirely sustain the woman, but in return she has to feed the tilberi her own blood. Thankfully, once the process has started, the woman will miraculously sprout a nipple on her inner thigh for the imp to feed from! The existence of the tilberi also has to remain hidden or else it will retaliate against its "mommy" and suckle her to death!

While the folklore here is certainly unique, this strange and ultimately awkward cocktail of history, horror, humor and mythology possesses an uncertain tone that will delight some but be a hard pillberi to swallow for others. The addition of highly questionable subtext and a bland roster of unlikable / underdeveloped characters only add fuel to the polarizing fire. There's absurdist and often juvenile comedy, surreal elements, childhood flashbacks, hallucinations and crude, gross out moments with Troma-style puking, and they even throw in a long choreographed dance number for some reason. Perhaps they should have set some time aside to make us actually care about these people instead.

Though he certainly shows more sympathy toward his fellow countrymen, at times the director seems to be satirizing both the unwelcome military invaders and the resulting homegrown hysteria. The Icelandic women here are all but lining up to get with the soldiers, while the men are flummoxed and frustrated. Gudrún is caught sneaking off to a graveyard to feed her tilberi (disguised as her British military lover "Major Tilbury," of course!) and has been using its butter to make Cadbury (a British company) chocolate products. A Scottish general refers to local hired help as "the lowest form of life" while soldiers mockingly wave used condoms around to signal their conquests. When U.S. forces finally show up ("We Americans will make sure you get all the guns you need!"), their leader refers to the locals as "backwater peasants" as he eats a Hershey's bar.

Several other aspects of the plot manage to be even more perplexing. Now I want to be careful here and point out that depicting characters with certain prejudices is not the same thing as endorsing said prejudices. That said, what we're left with here is a film that's so heavy on anti-Jewish sentiment and dog whistles, and so heavy on criticizing the Allied forces, that it actually appears to be sympathizing with the Nazis! I'm not sure if this comes off that way because it's so muddled or if it comes off that way because the leveled criticism is extremely imbalanced.

Firing a starting pistol during a swim meet is used as an excuse for the military to arrest Coach Kemp (Aðalsteinn Bergdal), who turns out to be a Nazi sympathizer and bemoans the "Jewish mentality" now corrupting his country. This teary-eyed character, arrested and held captive under false pretenses, is also the only character in the entire movie willing to tell Audun the truth, thus steering our protagonist in the right direction. As far as the evil, culture-destroying tilberi is concerned, it's designed with a pretty infamous anti-Semitic trope: The large hooked nose. One of the many Nazi propaganda campaigns used against Jews involved spreading lies that they were poisoning food, and thus it's no coincidence this features a scene of its evil, short, big-schnozed demon throwing out contaminated candy bars to children!

The film not only depicts the anti-Nazi forces as complete scumbags who aggressively threaten the Icelandic way of life, but also depicts the local women as vacuous, promiscuous, backstabbing social climbers. Everything leans toward painting Icelandic men as the ultimate victims in this scenario simply for having romantic competition from outsiders, but it's hard to forget it's saying this while there's a global genocide of millions occurring simultaneously. Ah, the perils of isolationism and bubble life. Your world-shattering problem that's unique to you or your culture may be the ultimate IDGAF to the rest of the world in the grand scheme of things. The naïve male lead is left scarred and alone a year later, but there's no real catharsis for him either. He's still shackled to his lost love (who never appears to have fancied him anyway) and ends up getting sucked into a haystack by unseen forces (?) for all his troubles! I'd like to think the director and writer had other, more nobler intentions with this film, but whatever those were, they get hopelessly scrambled here.

Not many people had even heard of this before it turned up on Severin's All the Haunts Be Ours: A Compendium of Folk Horror box set in 2021. That collection, spread out over 14 discs, contains nineteen features, tons of shorts, essays and interviews, Keir-La Janisse's 3+-hour-long documentary Woodlands Dark and Days Bewitched: A History of Folk Horror (2021), a book, and tons of special features. It's well worth getting if you have the money to throw down on it. If not, many of the titles from this set can currently be viewed for free on Tubi. Some can also be found on Youtube, though the quality obviously isn't going to be as good.

This 2021 release marks the very first time this film has been officially released here in America as well as the first time it's been available with proper English subtitles. Notable extras include commentary from the director and writer Þórarinn Eldjárn, interviews with the director and stars Magnúss and Úlfsson and a 33-minute short from the director called Tache blanche sur la nuque / "A White Spot in the Back of the Head" (1979), which he made while studying in France. It's based on a ghost story called Djákninn á Myrká ("The Deacon of Myrka"), which is also its Icelandic release title, and is yet another new-to-me movie I need to add to my ever-growing index.

Like Vikingsson's previous genre film GHOST STORY (1985), this is short (just 56 minutes) and was made for the Icelandic TV network Ríkisútvarpið-Sjónvarp (RÚV).

★★