The title of 1975’s The Night of the Walking Dead recalls two different hugely popular productions concerning zombies, but it is really about vampires. Actually, it isn’t even so much about vampires as it is about boobs. I know heaving bosoms are a staple of the gothic cinema, but these heave out of loose blouses to an extent somewhere between Hammer at its nadir and the work of Russ Meyer at his apex.
One pair belongs to Emma Cohen, the daughter in a wealthy family living in a mansion in rural 19th century Spain. She would seem to be one of the few remaining comely young lasses of the village who has yet to be turned into a vampire.
Amparo Climent has been latest to be turned, though the cause of death is chalked up to the usual culprit of anemia. The locals storm the funeral and drive a stake through her heart. What they don’t anticipate is others in her bloodsucking peer group will simply dig her up that night, take the stake back out and she’s back on the roster of Team Vampire.
I wondered how the villagers had not long ago realized the staked vampires were being resurrected, as at least Climent’s grave doesn’t appear to be filled back in after her resurrection. From this, I assume the vampires didn’t bother filling the graves back in for any of the previous excavations, either. It is eventually discovered driving a metal spike through the foreheads of the undead is what will definitively dispatch them, and I was stunned to learn those vampire slayers in all the other movies have been doing it wrong this entire time.
The leader of the local vampire conclave is Carlos Ballesteros. He’s a distinguished count who composes himself in such a restrained manner as to be able to drink wine instead of blood, which is how he comes to win the heart of Cohen. We will even learn in a flashback how he was turned, and it was largely because he was bitten while distracted by boobs. As a guy, I understand how that could happen.
Back in the then-present, he and Cohen make goo-goo eyes at each other while his minions cavort. She seems pretty unfazed by such things as his vampire brides, but it was the swinging 70’s and all. And she wasn’t dismayed to see a lover who had spurned her turned into essentially a keg which is tapped by a knife plunged into his stomach while he is hung from the ceiling. But this gathering is largely like a children’s birthday party spiraling out of control from too much sugar consumption, and this is weirdly amusing. At least Ballesteros is a courteous host, including what I think is the only time a vampire has ever asked somebody to keep the cross around their neck, so as to ensure he will behave himself.
That party spills over into the town, and the villagers are slaughtered. One bit that had me deeply confused has a girl who is a dead ringer for Pippi Longstocking eating dinner when a female vampire opens the door. The girl looks happy to see this obvious threat but then seems alarmed to see a male vampire as well. So, she was cool with one attacking vampire, but two of them crosses some sort of line.
It is difficult to identify any aspect of this film I especially liked, but I was intrigued by a moment that recalls a key scene in Salem’s Lot. Cohen’s mother uses a ring to etch a cross on a bedroom window, so as to protect her daughter. With jewelry like that, you seriously don’t want to pick a fight with momma. That crude crucifix (crudecifix?) succeeds in protecting the girl when the unearthed Clilment appears outside that next night. Something about that scene I found interesting is the vampire is walking on misty ground despite this being a second-story window. Take that, kid in Salem’s Lot, who had to float in the air to do the same. Climent can even make her own ground.
Another element which is unique, though unwelcome, is the bizarre opening credit sequence which may be the most 1975 grindhouse thing I have ever seen. The screen starts out black as an extremely loud and distorted electric guitar wails on the soundtrack. When images finally appear, these are highly solarized footage of a man and woman seemingly cosplaying as vampires. Crudely rendered titles are overlaid atop this imagery. Something about this sequence has the air of the highly disreputable and it leaves one feeling a bit unnerved.
The Night of the Walking Dead feels akin to such works as Dark Shadows, Twilight and Anne Rice novels—that “romantic vampire” dreck I wouldn’t touch with a ten-foot stake. While not my cup of blood, this is a movie which may appeal to fans of that subgenre, though that seems unlikely. The script tries to make the undead count a tragic anti-hero, but it is really the kind of work more interested in Cohen watching the maid and butler get their freak on. No bets will be taken on whether the maid’s blouse can succeed in restraining her boobs.
Dir: León Klimovsky
Starring Emma Cohen, Carlos Ballesteros
Watched as part of Severin’s blu-ray box set Danza Macabra Volume Three: The Spanish Gothic Collection