The incomparable filmography of raven-eyed Barbara Steele
attests to the iconic actresses’ reign as the uncontested Queen of Gothic
Horror cinema. Though a British
national, Steele’s earliest roles for England’s film industry were mostly
unexceptional; she was usually offered roles small and oft-times un-credited. Her most notable work would neatly coincide
with the turn of the calendar page from the prim 1950s to the more robust and
envelope-pushing 1960s. Steele’s finest
and most memorable films were, not without exception, neither productions of
English nor American origin. Though she would work alongside horror-master
Vincent Price in Roger Corman’s highly polished and well- regarded retelling of
Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Pit and the Pendulum†(1961), this big-screen splash was
something on an anomaly. Steele’s
reputation as horror-film goddess was largely advanced by several evocative roles
in a series of hauntingly memorable, modestly-budgeted, and singularly Italian
or Italian-European co-productions. She
worked with the best: several of her most remarkable films were helmed, under
the aegis of such celebrated directors as Mario Bava (“Black Sundayâ€) and Federico
Fellini (“8 ½â€).
Though he would never, perhaps rightfully, be knighted with
the auteur status bestowed upon such contemporaries
as Bava and Fellini, Antonio Margheriti’s resume of film credits – particularly
fantastic film credits - is lengthier
than that of either director. There was
no denying he could deliver, on time and on budget, a marketable - if sometimes
pedestrian and occasionally incoherent - science-fiction or sword-and-sandal epic
to the studio. Conversely, Margheriti’s
sensitive and nuanced handling of the gothic-horror period films assigned to
him in the early 1960s was never less than completely stylish: such entries as “The
Virgin of Nuremberg†(aka “Horror Castleâ€) (1963), with Christopher Lee in a small
red-herring role, remains a memorable addition to the canon. The director’s immediate follow-up, “Danza
Macabra†(“Castle of Bloodâ€) (1964) with Barbara Steele was, on the other hand,
so much more than the ordinary color-by-numbers ghost story. That black and white film is, in the opinion
of this reviewer, nothing short of brilliant, an atmospheric and haunting masterpiece
of gothic-horror cinema. Undeservedly,
as would be the case with many of his earliest films, this celluloid treasure
was unceremoniously relegated to U.S. markets as programming fodder for the drive-in
theater circuit. Thankfully, many of
Margheriti’s films – including, inevitably, many of his lesser works - would eventually
draw new breath. Many of his earliest films
were ultimately saved from obscurity when several titles became staples of
late-night broadcast TV.
Margheriti is described on Raro Video’s brilliant recent
Blu-Ray issue of “The Long Hair of Death†(1964) as having been totally
“fascinated†by Barbara Steele’s persona, and terribly eager to work with the
actress again on a follow-up project. As
“Castle of Blood†had proven to be a low-budget but world-wide success at the international
box office, Margheriti did his best to assemble the same troupe of actors and
film technicians for his next gothic horror outing. Many of the sets for “The Long Hair of Deathâ€
would be familiar to fans of “Castle of Blood.†The cemetery vaults and imposing Italian castle located some forty miles
outside of Rome were re-visits to the gloomy settings of his previous
collaboration with Steele. He was
comfortable in this surrounding, and there were few gothic-horror tropes not
employed by Margheriti - with great effect – in both films. It’s all there to be found – very atmospherically
presented - on screen: the gloomy old
castle, cobwebs, candelabras, chains and steel gates, labyrinth catacombs, torches,
dark-robed shadowy figures, rats, crypts littered with skulls and bones, secret
passageways, and, of course, the elegant and expansive sitting room outfitted
with large hearths and ancient armaments that adorn the walls.
The plot of “The Long Hair of Death†is simple and
recognizable. Near the end of the 15th
century, a witch, Adele Karnstein, is condemned to die by fire for the murder
of Franz Humboldt, the brother of the reigning Count (Giuliano Raffaelli). In her final moment before succumbing to the
flames, Karnstein chooses to wickedly put a century’s end curse of pestilence on
the village – with a very special retribution to be meted out to the
descendants of those who accused her, wrongly, of the crime. Before dying, she cries out to her estranged daughters,
Lisabeth (Halina Zalewska) and Helen (Barbara Steele), to avenge her murder by
the village royals. In an attempt not to
give too much away, I believe it’s safe to say that the mother’s curse will
bode well for neither the reigning Count nor his scheming and loathsome son
(Giorgio Ardisson).
Though “The Long Hair of Death†is not in the same league as the other-worldly and atmospheric classic that is the “Castle of Blood,†it remains a thoughtfully conceived and masterfully executed film. It offers several supernatural twists, a couple of surprising turns of plot, a showcase for Margheriti’s great visual style, and a superb ensemble performance by the cast. Though some fans rue that the middle-section of the film tends to meander, I find the film’s pacing a deliberate slow-burn toward the film’s fiery and inevitable conclusion. Other fans might be troubled that much of “The Long Hair of Death†tends to play out more as a gothic-melodrama than a true bona fide horror film, but… well, they’re wrong.
This film is an essential addition to the collection of anyone who grew up enjoying the moody Italian gothic-horror films of the 1960s. Raro Video should be commended for giving “The Long Hair of Death†the measure of care and respect this movie most certainly deserves. This film has, very simply, never looked better on home video. Raro’s superb issue of “The Long Hair of Death†on Blu-ray gives fans of vintage Italian horror some hope that several more of Steele’s similarly themed films from this era (“The Ghost†(1963), “Terror Creatures from the Grave†(1965) and “She Beast†(1966), might actually one day benefit from the same respectful and loving treatment. While all three of the above-mentioned films (as well as “The Long Hair of Deathâ€) have been previously available on home video here in the U.S., they have only seen issue on a variety of public-domain budget labels. The majority of these earlier releases were “mastered†from battered and splice-ridden 16mm dupes or soft VHS copies. This Raro release is the copy for your collection.
The set also boasts an impressive array of bonus materials. There are, of course, the vintage trailers (both the Italian as well as U.S. market trailers are included). There’s also an impressive commentary provided by Edoardo Margheriti, the director’s son. The younger Margheriti is no Bela Lugosi Jr. with little to offer film historians besides a celebrated surname. Edoardo actually worked on many of his father’s films, with behind-the camera stints ranging from 2nd Unit Director to special effect supervisor. Though Margheriti agrees his father’s reputation as a great helmsman of the Horror-Gothic film school is well deserved, he admits there were too few of them through the years. His father’s reputation in the industry was that of a reliable journeyman, capable of tackling a variety of assignments in the course of a long career. The younger Margheriti recalled his father’s primarily interest was the science-fiction genre, though all of his films, whether they were Euro-spy films, war epics, or serial-style adventure flicks, would almost always possess a supernatural element. But Margheriti’s films were not simply popcorn films or movies of an exploitative nature; the screenplays and storylines were thoughtfully crafted. The writer Antonio Tentori recalls, in a separate featured commentary, that he was impressed by one very “modern aspect†of subtext in “The Long Hair of Death.†Nearly all the principal characters share the burden of past sins – sins that they’re desperate to keep hidden. They’re all haunted by their past misdeeds; so torn with the residual guilt of their earlier actions that they’re often driven to the edge of madness.
The Raro set also features several pages of notes courtesy of Fangoria magazine’s Chris Alexander. The booklet is occasionally marred by the author’s run-on-sentence enthusiasms; this tends to make several paragraphs difficult to read. This could be partly forgiven if the notes were a bit more distinguished. Production information, biographies, clear-eyed context and thoughtful criticism is always welcomed; sadly there’s little of that to be found here. Instead we’re treated to a few pages of Barbara Steele fan-gush, and an odd and unfortunate swipe at Mario Bava. Alexander partly exonerates himself during his “Video Introduction†to the film - which is of a bit more informative nature - but this section too ends somewhat amateurishly. Instead of an elegant fade to black, the segment closes only when he leans forward and turns off his video camera ala a teenager’s Youtube video submission.