I love gothic films, which I find odd, as it one of the most restrictive genres. I mean, what is gothic exactly? You must have at least a sprawling old building of some sort, whether it is the baron’s castle or a school for girls which is lorded over of a prim schoolmistress.
The 1964 Italian gothic 1964’s The Monster of the Opera is set in a monstrous, old opera house. The plot has a dance troupe occupying this decrepit theatre they have purchased. It is unclear exactly what type of material they do, but it appears to be some sort of avant-garde thing. I wonder if they considered the appeal of such material to audiences in rural Italy before they commenced with this venture.
At first, they are oblivious to the vampire (Guiseppe Addobbati) in the basement. If only they would pay attention to Alberto Archetti, as the vampire’s Renfield (even if the character’s name is really Achille.) Given how the vampire’s right-hand man is constantly trying to undermine him, I guess this guy is really his Achilles heel. I’ll see myself out, thanks.
One would think Barbara Hawards, the star of the troupe, would be more in tune to what’s going on. She had a prescient dream before coming here, wherein this vampire gets her pinned to the ground with a pitchfork.
This dream is the first scene in the film, and I was completely bewildered while watching it. I was wondering if this guy was a freshly turned vampire and so doesn’t know the function of those fangs yet. Also, about that pitchfork: the tines of it are super flimsy, dull at the end and the middle ones are conveniently shorter than the ones on the ends. That way, the longest tines can touch the ground while our heroine is in no way imperiled by the shorter ones that barely touch her midriff.
As ridiculous as this scene may be, I still like the dutch-angle photography used in the pursuit through some very old architecture. And yet I couldn’t stop laughing at the scene, even as she manages to flee in slow-motion. I imagined this as the most surreal old commercial ever: “I dreamed I was running from a vampire in my Maindenform bra…”
Anywho, Archetti keeps trying to get these artists to leave. I liked one line he delivers: “You must leave while the door to the theatre is still open.” Even if this movie isn’t folk horror, the line made me think of a recurring element of that genre, and that is people failing to heed such warnings get punished. I think of it as “the moment of transgression”, a point that, like the event horizon of a black hole, one cannot return from.
Myself, I started rooting for the vampire, given how annoying these characters are. Most notable is a woman with a deeply annoying laugh that resembles nothing less than that of Woody Woodpecker. And, guess what, she laughs a lot.
And all the characters are annoying when doing their bizarre dance routines. In one scene, they are supposed to be cleaning the stage area when somebody throws on a record of “The Charleston”. Curiously, nobody seems to be doing that particular dance. At the same time, their movements would not accomplish in cleaning anything. So, are they cleaning or dancing, since they appear to be doing neither? If this was practice for a routine to be performed, who would possibly be the target audience for this? As far as dancing goes, the “Linus & Lucy” moments in A Charlie Brown Christmas are incredibly realistic in comparison.
Even more bizarre is a scene there the vampire appears and everybody begins to dance as frantically as possible. Apparently, if anybody stops moving, the vampire will get them. This is a part of vampire lore of which I was previously unaware. That, or the filmmakers were just making stuff up as they went along. This scene has a feel to it like the games little kids play, such as “the floor is lava”.
Another bit of vampire lore of which I was previously unaware is you can use fire to scare a vampire to death. You don’t even have to touch him with the flames. I’m filing that away for future use, in case I even encounter bloodsuckers.
Monster of the Opera is, unfortunately, a rather dull film aside from those moments when it is batshit crazy. Most eye-opening is bit which comes close to becoming a sapphic three-way. Let me tell you, this bit of a tease was far more arousing than some flat-out porn I have seen. It made me recall a bit of stage dressing this bizarre troupe has, which appears to be a brick tower which seems to have problems staying full upright. I guess this cabaret of Dr. Caligari has a prop experiencing erectile dysfunction. Perhaps it needs to be shown that aborted three-way scene.
Dir: Renato Polselli
Starring Marco Mariani, Giuseppe Addobbati, Barbara Hawards
Watched as part of Severin’s blu-ray box set Danza Macabra Vol 1: The Italian Gothic Collection