MYTHICITY: *poor*
FRYEAN MYTHOS: (1) *drama,* (2) *comedy*
Here
are three films with peculiar takes on vampire tropes of one kind of
another, two from Spain and one from Brazil.
THE
SAGA OF DRACULA is a strangely oblique take on the Dracula mythos,
directed by Leon Klimovsky, best known for his work on Paul Naschy’s
films. SAGA’s script seems to proceed from the idea Stoker presents
in his novel, showing the king-vampire ruling over a dessicated
kingdom in Transylvania. In this movie, Transylvania is ruled by a
noble family, the Draculas, who are descended by the medieval lord
Vlad Tepes, but though these nobles are also vampires they’ve
managed to conceal the fact from the ignorant peasants. The Draculas
haven’t had much luck breeding a new line, but some time in the
past, some offspring left the old country, and now Berta,
granddaughter of the Dracula line, returns to become acquainted with
her ancestors. Moreover, she’s pregnant by her human husband Hans,
and though she doesn’t know it, the child in her womb has a
dominant vampire nature.
The
script’s salient problem is that the setup creates no actual
tension. Klimovsky and company could’ve done a story in which the
vampires wanted to steal the child once he was born, so that he would
be able to take over the family in maturity. But it’s not clear
what the Draculas want to do at any given time. At one point the
current lord’s wife seduces and sleeps with Hans, but is she trying
to conceive? The script leaves the viewer guessing as to the
vampires’ motivations for the whole film, and Berta and Hans remain
largely clueless. It may be that the script was merely an excuse for
a lot of repetitive Gothic imagery, because the raconteurs thought
that was all the audience wanted.
As
noted, prior to SAGA Klimovsky directed three Paul Naschy films, the
best of which was 1971’s WEREWOLF VS, THE VAMPIRE WOMEN. In that
film, the director’s talent for staging vivid scenarios combined
well with Naschy’s pathetic concept of the doomed werewolf Waldemar
Daninsky. Unfortuunately, Carlos Aured’s CURSE OF THE DEVIL fails
to achieve even strong visceral appeal.
The
film presents a quasi-origin for Naschy’s Waldemar somewhat
reminiscent of Bava’s BLACK SUNDAY—though there’s no such thing
as “canon” in Naschy’s werewolf-films. Every film essentially
starts from square one, and only acknowledges events in other films
in capricious manner. For instance, CURSE mentions the notion that
present-day Waldemar may’ve picked up a curse or two from his
Tibetan travels in WEREWOLF AND THE YETI. But there’s really no
need for this reference, because the prelude-story is supposed to
establish how a medieval witch is the main source of the malady.
In
a late medieval era, Waldemar’s ancestor destroys a witch-cult,
and its leader, Elizabeth Bathory, curses all of the witchfinder’s
descendants. Some readers may have false hopes that this Bathory—an
alleged practitioner of mundane vampirism, e.g. bathing in
peasant-blood for immortality-- will show up as an opponent for
modern-day Waldemar, given the significance of the name. But
Elizabeth’s never seen again, and indeed, her curse seems to have
less effect on Waldemar than the fact that he pisses off some gypsies
by accidentally shooting one of them. Thus the script gives the
viewer one real cause for the curse and two lesser causes, which
certainly smacks of over-determination.
The
Naschy films are known for a lot of vivid sex and violence, but the
violence is minor, and the sex is fairly tepid. As always, bulky
Waldemar attracts a lot of hot babes without really trying, not least
the sister of his fiancée. She finds out the hard way that it’s
not nice to steal your sister’s things, since she beds Waldemar
just before one of his transformations.
I
mention this one bit of grue as the only scene that stood out for me.
Most Naschy films don’t disappoint in giving the viewer a violent
end for the monster, but this one just pointlessly winds down with no
big finish.
Both
of these films have a little advantage in that their makers are
somewhat familiar to the dedicated fan. However, though neither the
director nor the actors of THE SEVEN VAMPIRES are names to conjure
with, this comedy-horror flick is a more pleasing concoction.
A
biologist named Fred imports a rare African meat-eating plant to
Brazil for further study. Unfortunately, once it reaches maturity,
the plant chows down on him, and takes a bite of his girlfriend Maria. For
once, the plant’s predations are disclosed to the public, and all
of her friends commissseerate with Maria for her loss. However, Maria
gets the idea to put on a vampire dance-performance at the club she
just happens to own (consisting of seven sexy babes in vampire regalia, hence the title). Is there a connection between Maria’s weird
behavior and the serial killings of women by someone who drains their
corpses of blood?
None
of the humor, mostly centering around dumb cop-investigators, travels
very well, any more than the humor surrounding a magician’s act by
one “Fu Manchu.” But the film presents a lot of decent
sexploitation on its way to the “big solution” of the alleged
mystery—which I admit I didn’t see coming, though I can’t say I
cared about the solution either.
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