O Espelho da Bruxa

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!).

A great Horror entry made in Mexico at a time when their film industry was still robust and interesting. The theme of The Witch's Mirror can equally fall into the genre of supernatural just as much as horror. Either way it's a Macabre film, very well shot in black and white and director Chano Urueta makes excellent use of some great special effects for the time. Isabel Carona plays the witch who uses her magic mirror to cast revenge on Armando Calvo, who is really great as the sinister, twisted mad-scientist of sorts. Most of the film takes place in what appears to be a old Mexican castle although the outside of it is never shown but it's very Gothic and atmospheric with brooding shadows around every corner. The Witch's Mirror is definitely Classic Mexican Cinema and sadly many of these films produced from this era have gone un-noticed for far too long. If you plan on seeing it I recommend you make some popcorn, turn off the lights and enjoy this fun little picture from the days when Mexican cinema was still golden.

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.

I was surprised to learn that "The Witch's Mirror" came out a year BEFORE director Chano Urueta and producer Abel Salazar released their more-well-known cult horror film "The Brainiac" (1961), as this earlier effort by the same team strikes me as a much more polished, effective and professionally made piece of work. "The Brainiac" had almost seemed the result of a Mexican Ed Wood making his first film while on acid, whereas "The Witch's Mirror" turns out to be a bona fide find; one of the best horror films I've seen in a while. The picture can be seen as two distinct stories, actually, cleaving fairly evenly down the middle. The first half tells of the revenge that a witch, Sara (who reminded me of Dr. Joyce Brothers, of all people!), takes on the man who poisoned her goddaughter, as well as on this man's replacement bride. This first half has a positively Gothic feel and could easily take place anytime during the last 200 years. The second half of the film veers off suddenly into "Frankenstein" and "Eyes Without a Face" territory, with a more modern-day vibe. The film offers up some strikingly composed shots, beautiful B&W photography, some eerie moments and, most surprising, some shocking gross-out elements. The FX are, for the most part, very well done (those crawling hands excepted, perhaps), and the picture winds up most satisfyingly indeed. I'm not sure that Debra's (wife #2's) ultimate fate is deserved, but whatcha gonna do? This IS a horror picture, after all, and quite an excellent one at that. My thanks to Casa Negra for rescuing it from relative oblivion. All horror buffs, I feel, should pounce on this one.

I vaguely remember seeing a few Mexican horror films on my local TV channel when I was growing up. The quality of the prints weren't great and, even to an 8 year old, the dubbing was atrocious. This one and a Russian (Soviet) film called THE DAY THE EARTH FROZE stuck with me because they both featured witches. I've always been fascinated by witches in films and books because of the magic powers they possessed. However it had been years since I had seen WITCH'S MIRROR when this Casanegra release came out in 2006. I bought it (along with BLACK PIT OF DR M and CURSE OF THE CRYING WOMAN), watched it, liked it, but didn't watch it again until just recently when I was astonished by everything I found in it. This movie is an old school horror buff's dream come true.

The look of MIRROR is a cross between the shadowy low budget world of the Val Lewton RKO films and the atmospheric Euro Gothic films of Mario Bava and early Jess Franco. Then there's the plot which borrows heavily from the classic French horror film EYES WITHOUT A FACE (LES YEUX SANS VISAGE) where a doctor tries to restore his daughter's disfigured face. In this movie it's the doctor's second wife who is disfigured by the avenging spirit of his first wife (whom he murdered) abetted by her Godmother who is the witch of the title. Throw in a little of FRANKENSTEIN and a lead performance that rivals anything Bela Lugosi did at Monogram and you have the makings of a B movie classic. In fact, MIRROR has everything in it but the kitchen sink

One of the many delights to be had in watching this film is seeing how it just plows right ahead moving from one bizarre plot point to another completely oblivious to its own absurdity. The whole thing only takes 75 minutes and boy does plenty happen in that short length of time. The first wife is statuesque, the second is more conventional, the doctor is insane, and the witch is calm and collected. There's never a dull moment although I found the ending to be disappointing (NO SPOILERS HERE) but you can see for yourself. Unfortunately the Casanegra label disappeared a few years back and now copies of them are increasingly rare and cost a pretty penny. Definitely worth seeking out...For more reviews visit The Capsule Critic.