O Espelho da Bruxa

In Mexico, Elena (Dina de Marco) is married and loves her husband, Dr. Eduardo Ramos (Armando Calvo). The housekeeper Sara (Isabela Corona), who is her godmother, is a powerful witch that has a magic mirror. When Sara predicts that Elena will be murdered by her husband, she cannot protect her goddaughter since the devils cannot change the future. Soon Eduardo gives poisoned milk to Elena and she dies. However, Sara promises revenge to Elena. Eduardo travels and when he returns home, he brings his new wife, Deborah (Rosita Arenas), to live with Sara and him. But Sara summons the devils from hell to set in course Elena's revenge, bringing her back through her mirror.

"El espejo de la bruja", a.k.a. "The Witch's Mirror", is a great black-and-white Mexican horror movie about a witch that uses her mirror to bring the spirit of her granddaughter to seek revenge against her husband. The storyline is simple, but the film is scary. My vote is seven.

Title (Brazil): "O Espelho da Bruxa" ("The Witch's Mirror")

A delirious concoction of Rebecca, Hands of Orlac, The Uninvited, and Eyes Without a Face, 1962's El espejo de la bruja wastes no time plunging us into the Gothic and even less time on useless characterization. This is a brutally efficient horror pic which rejects nothing, no matter how absurd, and despises the crippling effect common sense has had on the poetry of the macabre. The protagonists act as if hypnotized, stepping out of ghostly mirrors, wandering doomy-eyed, or running down dark staircases in terror--a Last Year at Marienbad done as a haunted soap opera, and curiously enough, released the same year.

Co-scriptwriter Carlos Enrique Taboada would go on to write and direct several Henry James-style moody horrors, but I much prefer his kitchen sink approach here. The lively, demented plot is well matched with Jorge Stahl Jr's arty, careful camerawork which invokes maximal imaginative power via simple effects such as voice-over, shadows, fog, cut-outs, and double exposure. Budget considerations limit this one to mostly set-bound interiors, but this only adds to the cramped paranoia, punctuated by hysterical outbursts at a piano playing itself or the presence of a dead woman in the title mirror.

The film's characters seem to shift from victim to tormentor on a dime, presided over by a cackling vengeful witch (Isabela Corona) whose folk religion is somewhat like Santissima Muerte mixed with medieval European diabolism (ominous credits and a warning as to the powers of witchcraft crawl over Goya copies, bookending the action). Shadowy and intricate, she prays to alters resembling Surrealist sculptures. Magic is real. There is no cop-out. The detectives at the end wonder what the hell they've seen. Everyone gets their just deserts. The moral: Beware the wrath of women, especially outwardly-loyal housekeepers.

The Witch's Mirror is a fine, mad thing, blissfully short on psychological subtlety, and as locomotive as the flipping pages of a gaudy sensacionale.

Mexico's "The Witch's Mirror" (El Espejo de la Bruja) was that rare Abel Salazar production where he does not perform on screen, kicking off Nov. 14, 1960, with director Chano Urueta at the helm. Pretty blonde Helen Hanley (Dina de Marco) is dismayed to learn from godmother Sara (Isabela Corona) that her death has been preordained by the powers of darkness, and that her supposedly devoted surgeon husband Edward (Armando Calvo) will be the one responsible for her murder. The fateful moment arrives when he brings her a fatal glass of milk at bedtime, collapsing before her bedroom mirror; it's not long before the doctor returns with new bride Deborah (Rosita Arenas, herself just recently wed to producer Salazar), who wants to prove she's not jealous by visiting Helen's old room. The vengeful spirit makes its chilling presence felt, and when Edward breaks the mirror with a kerosene lamp, Deborah is the one encased in flames that disfigure her once lovely features. At this point the picture becomes a Mexican combination of "The Hands of Orlac" and Georges Franju's "Eyes Without a Face," the now quite mad surgeon obsessed with restoring the beauty of his loved one, an attempt at grave robbing resulting in a still living subject suffering from catalepsy, with perfect pianist hands. It may not be clear at first, but poor Deborah turns out to be entirely innocent of any wrongdoing, the villainous Edward coming off as such a cold fish that it's a mystery as to how he'd be such a babe magnet. The presence of a (mostly) benevolent witch is capably handled by Isabela Corona, never once suspected by her employer or his latest bride, unable to save her mistress but not holding back when exacting revenge. The scarred makeup does not disappoint, and the occasional bursts of gore (even in black and white), such as severed hands and stumps on arms, must have been shocking in its day (amazing how such similar titles all emerged at the same time from different countries: France, Mexico, and Spain's "The Awful Dr. Orlof"). Small details abound, such as flowers that wither and die in mere seconds, a piano that plays itself, and the observant owl watching things go badly in the surgery. Chano Urueta truly rises to the occasion in ways that he couldn't on the better known "The Brainiac," another triumph for producer Salazar, whose marriage to pretty Rosina Arenas endured until his 1995 passing at age 78.

The Witch's Mirror is a film that mixes numerous horror ideas into one incoherent, but brilliantly fun little film. The Witch's Mirror is directed by Chano Urueta, who also made the completely bizarre Brainiac in 1962. It's clear that Urueta has an eye for visuals and isn't too bothered about telling a story, as both The Witch's Mirror and Brainiac are heavy on the style without putting too much focus on the plot. This film has borrowed from numerous horror classics, from American films such as Mad Love to the French classic Eyes Without a Face. The plot focuses on witchcraft and sorcery, and more specifically; the act of mastering the use of a mirror. A witch named Sara enchants a mirror in order to protect Elena, her adopted daughter, from her nasty husband Eduardo. However, the enchantment doesn't work as planned, and when it fails; Elena is murdered, which leads the witch to try and get her revenge through a series of supernatural spells and sorcery.

The fact that the plot is incoherent obviously hinders the film, but there's so much going on that it's not a big problem. The Witch's Mirror isn't dull for a moment as there's always something going on to hold the audience's interest. The film includes themes of witchcraft and sorcery, as well as a big dose of mad science, as the film's doctor attempts to reconstruct his wife's deformed face. The special effects are superb considering the film is almost forty five years old, and they're also a marked improvement over the largely silly effects seen in Brainiac. The film is rather arty - more so even than The Curse of the Crying Woman, but that's not a negative comment as The Witch's Mirror features some truly beautiful sequences, which are well utilised and make the film more memorable. Overall, I can't see a good reason not to enjoy this film. It's not dull for a second, features some of the best art sequences in horror and does well at mixing a number of different horror ideas. It's not the best film from the recent batch of Casa Negra releases, but it's still well worth watching!

This is another Mexican horror classic being given a new lease of life via Casanegra's superb SE DVD.

The plot is a mishmash of various well-proved elements (with even a nod to Poe) - a young wife is forced to live in the shadow of her husband's former bride (largely through the machinations of the latter's devoted housekeeper) as in REBECCA (1940); when the wife is horribly scarred in a fire, her doctor husband resorts to body snatching for skin graft experiments as in EYES WITHOUT A FACE (1959); the hands he gives her (unbeknownst to him, they belong to the revenge-seeking first wife he poisoned!) take on a life of their own as in MAD LOVE (1935), etc. - but which works reasonably well in the context of its essential "witchcraft vs. mad science" theme (to quote the DVD sleeve notes).

The first half is a bit slow, but the cheaply-realized yet often poetic visuals - borrowed from Cocteau and Dreyer! - keep one riveted; the latter stages are more frenetic, with several of the characters resorting to histrionics and a fair splattering of gore (leading up to a particularly busy and highly satisfying climax). The acting from all the major players is above-average for this type of film but, best of all perhaps, is Isabela Corona as the outwardly reserved but sinister and powerful witch; the two younger women also make an impression - Dina De Marco as the murdered wife who keeps turning up as a ghost to haunt her husband and her rival; Rosita Arenas as the innocent young bride who becomes the unfortunate victim in both the doctor and the witch's scheme of things (particularly effective when essaying the pathetic qualities of the bandaged-up, desperate and lonesome woman).

As was the case with THE BLACK PIT OF DR. M (1958), the Gothic/supernatural atmosphere deployed with the barest of resources through camera-work, lighting, sets and props is truly incredible...though the special effects (which get quite a heavy workout here), ultimately, leave a lot to be desired! I've purposely refrained from describing individual sequences (as I often tend to do) so as not to deny first-time viewers - as I was myself - the pleasure of discovering its considerable felicities on their own!

The supplements are similar to those of BLACK PIT: the Audio Commentary (by the same Frank Coleman) is just as interesting, but he seems to be enjoying himself a good deal here as he approaches the film with tongue-in-cheek - while retaining a justified reverence for his subject. One disappointing aspect of these DVD editions, however, is that the English-dubbed version of the films aren't included as they were released back in the day (for instance, in the Commentary it's mentioned that the narrated prologue accompanied by sketches in the Mexican original was dropped for the export version - but the DVD includes it, presumably with the 'new' lines recently looped in!).