L'amante del vampiro

Here's an early entry in the Italian horror revival of the 60s, following on the heels of Freda's "I Vampiri". It fits in well with the contemporaneous Gothics "The Playgirls and the Vampire", "Slaughter of the Vampires", etc., but is more superficial and haphazardly constructed. Most horror buffs have dismissed it as a clumsy imitation of its cinematic cousins. As proved by his later, supremely bizarre contributions to the horror genre, Polselli was a hack with no interest in continuity or story structure, but he certainly could sustain a ferociously obsessional, surrealistic atmosphere, and this title can be quite hypnotic despite its poor make-up and effects and relentless lack of narrative drive.

On the other hand, if you're a fan of kitschy early-60s Euro-chic, then by all means check this one out (if you can find it -- it only seems available on hazy grey-market copies that may have been clipped of brief sights of nudity and lasciviousness). The proceedings come to a halt every so often to allow the (supposedly classical) ballet troupe of leggy, leotard-clad bambinas an opportunity to break into sultry, acrobatic jazz ballet (shades of Chicago and Cabaret), to some mind-bending cocktail lounge music. It's as if José Benazeraf checked in one afternoon as guest director on a Bava picture! Definitely a cheeky, retro-chic cross-pollination, along the lines of "The Hands of Orlac" (remake) and "Death on the Four Poster".

Considerably less than the sum of its parts. The English-language title is extremely misleading (the original translates as 'The Vampire's Lover'), for there are plenty of dancers but not much ballet; one of the film's highlights being a supposed 'rehearsal' with the girls cavorting athletically in matching leotards and fishnets as one reclines languidly in the foreground drawing on a cigarette, which resembles a beatnik cabaret act rather than ballet.

Characters aimlessly wander in and out of the plot as well as about the local countryside and the local abandoned castle as in an episode of 'Scooby Doo'. Angelo Baistrocchi's photogaphy - particularly the nighttime exteriors - are pleasing to the eye but far too overlit for the purposes of suspense; while Aldo Piga's score varies wildly in style and suitability from scene to scene. Helene Remy as Luisa and Tina Gloriani as Francesca are both immaculate in their high heels and fifties dresses and hairstyles; maybe too immaculate, since their blonde good looks and their clothes render them so similar it gets difficult in the later stages of the film to keep track who's doing what and to whom at critical moments.

Someone involved in the production was obviously familiar with 'Nosferatu' and 'Vampyr', since a number of images (the wolves emerging from the woods, the coach driver, even the closing shot) have been lifted from the former, and the subjectively shot funeral from the latter.

The plot is so routine it plays more like a late entry in the Eurohorror period of the 1960s than like the early entry it is. Clearly, few involved in the film took any serious care with the material, even throwing in some rather herky-jerky musical numbers, far from ballet. But the photography by Angelo Baistrocchi is both crisp and moody, attractively using the weathered castle locations.

Clearly influenced by (HORROR OF) Dracula, still it's more in the Italian mode than Hammer horror. But it's weakened by mostly uninteresting characters and a lot of running about, often near a rocky stream. Still, the weird relationship between the two vampires is unusual: she's a contessa, he's her servant, but he made her a vampire--so as humans, she dominates him, while as vampires, he dominates her. This leads to an intense love-hate relationship climaxed by them turning on each other at the climax--while still loving one another.

Despite its obvious shortcomings...this early 60's Italian horror film is compelling for reasons other than ranking high on the fright index. The Vampire and The Ballerina is frankly anything but horrifying for the most part. Although, the expressionistic black and white photography lends the film a surreal and hypnotic quality that can't be dismissed. This is NOT your classical vampire flick. Thank God. Having endured the relentless tedium of countless Hammer vampire horror films, I can be grateful for that fact alone. No, the performances are not stellar but given the cheesecake Euro-babe thrust of the movie, they didn't have to be. The convoluted storyline is something David Lynch would appreciate. And so is the fixation on visual imagery such as the storm winds whipping those mysterious trees repeatedly whenever there is a hint of menace. The effective contrasts of shadow and light throughout the film does create a certain surreal moodiness that renders the need to frighten meaningless. It was simply enough for this viewer to be swept away by a tide of tight black leotards and fishnet stockings. A fetishistic confession? Perhaps...although what red-blooded vampire could possibly resist the urge to pray on a troupe of jazz-dancing nymphets posing as ballerinas?

I saw this black-and-white Italian made vampire movie at the Cloverleaf Drive-In in Cleveland, Ohio back in the early 1960s. The theater often booked triple feature horror programs (and triple features period. I even saw "El Cid" on a triple bill there). The drive-in's location was part of its appeal. If the movie wasn't worth watching, you could stare at the neon Goodyear sign off in the distance.

I only have a vague recollection of this film as it appeared theatrically. Like some others who have commented on it, I know it primarily from a 12-minute Super 8 silent home movie edition that Ken Films distributed in its United Artists series (which was primarily dedicated to condensed versions of the classics UA picked up from Warner Bros). In that abbreviated state, it wasn't at all bad, with a climax as memorable as Christopher Lee's demise in "Horror of Dracula." Helene Remy got top billing, above the title, but I'm not even sure any of her scenes made it into the home movie version. Then again, I don't think I would recognize her anyway.