Mistérios de Além-Túmulo

I cannot claim to be an expert on Mexican Horror cinema so far, but I certainly intend to dig out more films of the kind of this gem. "Misterios De La Ultratumba" aka. "The Black Pit of Dr. M"/"Mysteries From Beyond The Grave" of 1959 is an immensely moody Mexican Horror film that provides both a morbid and fascinating story and a genuinely creepy atmosphere. Occultism, mad science and the resurrection of the dead have always been some of my favorite Horror topics, and "Misterios De Ultratumba" unites all these elements in a very memorable and deeply uncanny manner. The atmosphere of this eerie gem is intensified by a haunting score, great Gothic settings and morbid makeup.

Dr. Mazali (Rafael Bertrand) and Dr. Aldama (Antonio Raxel) have made a pact that the first one of them to die shall come back and tell the other the secret of resurrection. After Aldama's death, Mazali, the head of a remote mental clinic, waits for the instructions of his dead colleague... This is only a very vague description of the plot, but I sure don't intend to give any part of this creepy gem's fascinating and wonderfully morbid plot away. The film, most of which is terrifically set in an old countryside insane asylum, maintains an intensely eerie Gothic atmosphere from the very beginning. The settings and visuals are great, old cemeteries and churches, heavy tombstones and foggy grounds provide the uncanny mood that my fellow fans of classic Horror should appreciate. The film provides morbidity, insanity and genuine scariness, all of which is intensified by the brilliantly intense and haunting score that boosts the creepiness each time it is heard. The performances are very decent, Rafael Bernard is good in the lead and Mapita Cortés is very nice to look at in the female lead as Dr. Almada's illegitimate daughter. This was the first film by Director Fernando Méndez I ever saw, but it certainly isn't going to be the last. Overall, "Misterios De Ultratumba" is an immensely creepy gem that no lover of atmospheric Horror should miss. Highly recommended!

Despite my satisfactory encounter with EL VAMPIRO (1957) a few years back, this is still just my second Mexican horror film of its vintage!

Given a complex and fascinating plot to work with - which has only the briefest concession to camp and, uncharacteristically for a horror film, is teeming with male protagonists (five, while there are only a couple of females of any importance) - a balance is reached between its intended literariness and the trademarks of the genre: foggy atmosphere, evocative décor and a bombastic yet effective score. The presence of Dr. Aldama's ghost is quite subtly but effectively established; besides, both Dr. Masali's expressionistic execution scene and the surreal first encounter between the two young lovers are stylishly realized - while the vicious attack of the manic woman and Elmer's resurrection emerge, perhaps, as the film's horror highlights. Furthermore, we get vividly essayed portrayals by the suave Ramon Bertrand as Dr. Masali and Carlos Ancira as Elmer - the latter, a cross between Dwight Frye and Peter Lorre (and helped by some splendid make-up), could well give the classic monsters a run for their money!

Though Masali and the young doctor (played by Gaston Santos) both vie for the girl's affection, there is very little rivalry between them let alone plots for revenge - as the film stresses Dr. Masali's single-mindedness in his search for knowledge regarding the afterlife. The asylum setting - and especially the imagery of outstretched hands through the bars of the cells - recalls BEDLAM (1946), while the hypnotic effect the music box has on the mad gypsy woman brings back memories of Bunuel's Mexican black comedy THE CRIMINAL LIFE OF ARCHIBALDO DE LA CRUZ (1955); also the scene where Masali/Elmer is discovered strumming on the violin is reminiscent of the Ape Man at the piano in RETURN OF THE APE MAN (1944)! There is one flaw with regards to the plot, however: it's inconceivable that, even if Masali was discovered locked in with the woman's corpse, no one suspected Elmer of having killed her for disfiguring him! Other amusing flubs include the scene in which the 'monster' - engulfed in flames - pauses to open a door before exiting a room screaming, the fact that the gypsy is able to effortlessly hurl a massive cupboard at the asylum orderlies confronting her, and the shot - accompanied by a histrionic single note on the soundtrack - early on where Dr. Aldama's coffin is opened prior to burial, almost as if to assure us that it is he...but, other than that, this particular sequence is comparable to the opening moments of James Whale's FRANKENSTEIN (1931)!

The DVD transfer is imperfect but not intrusively so, apart from some persistent hum on the soundtrack. The supplements are extensively researched and highly interesting (in particular, the Audio Commentary); the still gallery suggests that it's possible that some asylum footage has gone missing as it features a hulking, chained-up character who isn't seen in the actual film! Also, given that THE BLACK PIT OF DR. M wasn't released in the U.S. by the notorious K. Gordon Murray, the information imparted about him here isn't really pertinent to this release - though I didn't mind having it in the least, being all new to me; in fact, the English-dubbed version is, for all intents and purposes, deemed lost - even if Casanegra attempted to make amends by presenting the full-length English translation via a copy of the script (in rather too miniscule a font to be easily legible!) prepared for U.S. consumption.

As with the same director's EL VAMPIRO (which is upcoming on R1 as a 2-Disc Set accompanied by its sequel THE VAMPIRE'S COFFIN [1958]), then, this one emerges as a genuine classic of the horror genre and one that should be much better known. This viewing has kicked off my proposed Halloween marathon in a big way; I'm very much looking forward now to the rest of the Mexican titles which are coming up this week - but it has also made me yearn to check out the other films mentioned in the various supplements and which have yet to see the light of day on DVD...

After Dr Mazali (Rafael Betrand) makes his dying colleague Dr Aldama (Antonio Raxel) promise to reveal the secrets of the afterlife to him, in a séance he is then given a stark warning: in a few months time, he will indeed learn what lies beyond death, but at great personal cost. For even as "science senselessly struggles to break the barrier which separates us from God," one door will close just as another opens, in an irrevocable and fearful process. Meanwhile a mysterious stranger contacts Aldama's estranged daughter Patricia (Mapita Cortes) and brings her to Mazali's sanatorium where events will reach their climax in madness and tragedy...

After two successful vampire pictures, El Vampiro and El Ataud del Vampiro, made in just the previous year to this film, director Fernando Méndez next opted for this more ambitious project, a complicated and atmospheric zombie tale in which some have seen anticipations of much Mexican genre production due the following decade. The Black Pit Of Dr M (aka: Misterios de Ultratumba) can therefore be seen as the culmination of his short career in horror, as only the unsatisfactory western hybrid The Living Coffin (aka: El Grito de la Muerte, 1959) remained before Méndez worked on a couple of further, more nondescript, projects and retired from directing a couple of years later.

While some parts of Black Pit are hugely impressive - leading its effusive DVD commentary track to claim it as a neglected 'masterpiece', some of its strengths are arguably also its weakness. For instance the insistent, melodramatic tone, studio acting, or the conflation of several horror elements (zombies, apparitions, mad scientists, disfigured assistants, private asylums, etc) into one heterogeneous mixture that's both daring and ultimately diffuse in effect.

Méndez's black and white film looks splendid in this reincarnated edition, with excellent cinematography that includes deep focus, adding immeasurably to the Gothic atmosphere it inhabits. Dr Manzali's mist swept, wet-paved hacienda for instance, containing the sanatorium, full of evocative visual pleasure and composition, or the Ulmer-like minimalism of the nightclub in which we first see Patricia. Add to this a splendidly sombre main theme by Gustav Carrion and fans are in for a treat. Such sustained sombreness is certainly streets ahead of the better-known, somewhat beloved, campy works of terror that were to follow shortly in the Mexican horror film, like The Brainiac (aka: El Baron del Terror, 1962). In fact the moody genre success of Mendez's film makes it hard to see why the American distributors felt obliged to change the title at all, let alone quite what the black pit in the English language title is. Dr Mazali has nothing like it on show, unless it is the metaphorical pit of madness into which he so dramatically plunges.

Combining the disparate elements of the plot into one convincing whole is, as already mentioned, one of the film's biggest challenges. It's not that the result is a failure, far from it. But as a scarred henchman, gauche lovers, Dracula-like caped figure, a madwoman, obsessed medic and all the trapping of a B-movie asylum come together on screen in turn, by the half way mark Méndez has to make a decision about progressing the plot out of these complications, and then to its crisis which is only in varying degrees completely successful. One wishes that he had made more of an earlier stylistic decision, which incidentally makes up one of the film's finest moments: a startling jump cut from a close up of the terrified Patricia's eyes directly to an impending confrontation within the madhouse. Elsewhere the narrative abruptly (presumably for reasons of timing and clarity) skips a whole three months and a murder trial before it takes up matters again in a death cell - a process done through more traditional editing which leaves the development of one major character meantime at least to be desired. But perhaps one should carp too much; nightmares after all have their own disorientating logic (and the DVD blurb does refer optimistically to 'shocking jolts'), this while sacrificing some mundane events gives Méndez time to bring out some striking sequences: the eruption from the grave for instance, or those within the asylum.

Elsewhere, and away from the intriguing complexities of the narrative, things are less original. As the central and necessarily doomed character, Dr Mazali suffers from the stereotyping dogging most scientists of his ilk; those to whom "There are more things in heaven and Earth... than are dreamt of in your philosophy," can be applied almost as narrative mantra. Actors Betrand and colleagues do a respectable job, but it's fair to say that most pleasure obtained by the viewer stems from the mounting of the plot, rather than the way it's acted.

CasaNegra can be congratulated on doing a fine job in bringing this Mexican horror classic safely to disc, one of a series of such releases. Not everything is perfect (viewers are warned about some 'brassiness' in the soundtrack sound, but it's very minor especially compared to an unmentioned, persistent low hum heard throughout, presumably present in the original elements). The print, taken from vault materials, is admirably free from on screen damage or artifacts. Extras include an enthusiastic and welcome commentary by IVTV's Frank Coleman, a photo essay 'Mexican Monsters Invade the US', a director's biography, the original 1961 continuity script, cast bios, poster and stills gallery with the original trailer.

All in all this is indispensable viewing for those who enjoy their horror in black and white, especially those who cherish the original 1930s' Universal cycle, from which much on offer here owes strong inspiration. Those who have stumbled across Mexican cinema of this type will see this is one of the best examples and not hesitate others should check it out as soon as possible.

Movies and TV from the Buffy show all the way back to 1960 have been ripping off the dig-myself-out-of-the-grave scene, evidently begun with this film (correct me if I'm wrong). The idea could be as old as Poe but it's this film which, in my history, succeeds with the definitive version. As mentioned earlier, two doctors in charge of an asylum agree to contact the one living, should the other die first. The theme played on the violin by Dr. M is recapitulated at different plot points in a way that earlier audiences would recall from opera.

Mexican director Fernando Mendez' 1958 horror masterpiece "The Black Pit of Dr. M" originally appeared under the title "Misterios de Ultratumba" ("Mysteries of the Afterlife"), certainly a more appropriate appellation. In this film, you see, Dr. Masali, head of a rural insane asylum, coerces a dying associate, Dr. Aldama, to show him the secrets of the realm of the dead, and then return him to the land of the living. But poor Dr. Masali should have known that when you make a deal with the soon-to-be-dead, things don't always turn out quite as expected! And they don't, in this very cleverly plotted story that conflates a predestined love affair, an insane gypsy woman, a cursed dagger, disfigurement by acid, transmigration and so much more. Rafael Bertrand is truly excellent as the obsessed Dr. Masali, and special praise must also be heaped on cinematographer Victor Herrera for his work on "Dr. M." His B&W nighttime photography (most of the film does transpire at night) is a thing of real beauty, replete with moving shadows and dense, swirling mists; his work on another of Mendez' horror films from 1958, "The Living Coffin," seems far more pedestrian, in prosaic color. "Dr. M" is the kind of film that serves up a startling plot twist every few minutes or so. I would hate to spoil things for any potential viewer by saying too much, but thus feel that this minireview is not doing this tremendous picture justice. So please just trust me on this one--this film should be required viewing for all horror fans. The fine folks at Casa Negra should be thanked for rescuing this little gem from obscurity, and presenting it via a great-looking, excellently subtitled DVD, and with many fine extras, too. Again, gracias, Casa Negra.