BY HANK REINEKE
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).