THE VAMPIRES NIGHT ORGY 1973 aka LA ORGIA NOCTURNA DE LOS VAMPIROS
Jack Taylor (Luis), Helga Line (The Countess), Dianik Zurakowska (Alma), Fernando Bilbao (Giant), Sarita Gil (Violet), Fernando Romero (boy)
Directed by Leon Klimovsky
***WARNING! This review contains images of nudity***
"...only these villages buried between mountains can boast of meat of such excellent... quality... no other place will you find a roast like this."--the mysterious Major vaguely hinting at the Inn's chief ingredient. But we know what's in the meat!
The Short Version: Genre vet Leon Klimovsky directed this tightly shot, EC style horror story involving a spooky, isolated hamlet, ghouls, ghosts, vampires and cannibalism. Marinated in a Grand Guignol style, these ingredients are braised into a delectable dish of unique Euro horror flavor topped off with a peppery hint of black humor. The gore calorie count is low, but the taste is filling. The recipe is recommended especially for the palettes of 1970s European horror specialists.
A myriad group of people all on their way to begin work under the employ of a wealthy aristocrat encounter trouble when their bus driver suddenly dies from a heart attack. Traveling on, they decide to take a shorter route to a town called Tolnia to rest for the night. Curiously, the town isn't on their map, and when they arrive, they find the place deserted. The following day, the visitors discover the hamlet does indeed have villagers, and they're lorded over by a woman known only as The Countess. With their bus broke down, the Countess offers the stranded travelers free room and board, and also pays them for their inconvenience. However, the town of Tolnia harbors an evil secret, and as each night passes, more of the travelers disappear.
Veteran horror director Klimovsky has made a number of serviceable Euro-horrors (a few with Paul Naschy), and this tale of ghouls and vampires is one of the creepier ones. The anemic logic of European made spookers is surprisingly absent here, making the plotline of more interest than many of these movies, and recalls other, non Euro titles of a similar nature.
Regardless of the lack of cohesion, or common sense in most Euro horror pictures, one of their strongest assets is an oppressive atmosphere of impending doom. This aura of dread isn't created on a soundstage, but in real locations dripping with a dank, Gothic ambiance. This atmosphere is one of the highlights of THE VAMPIRES NIGHT ORGY.
The director is very successful in this respect. Klimovsky takes this feeling of danger further by populating this isolated village with a murderous bunch of individuals whom all possess eerie visages made all the more pronounced by macabre camera angles and close ups. The faces of these villagers are unique, and recall similar grotesque human imagery seen in Leone's westerns, and also those of Corbucci.
Klimovsky's thematic inspirations are unknown, but similarities can be drawn from a few possible foreign horror subjects such as Romero's NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD (1968), Herschell Gordon Lewis's 2000 MANIACS (1964), CANNIBAL GIRLS (1972) and, to an extent, MESSIAH OF EVIL (1973). Arguably the most blatant inspiration would have to be the 'Midnight Mess' segment from THE VAULT OF HORROR (1973). The storyline of that 15 minute tale of horror from one of Amicus' last anthology films is stretched out to feature length here, but with some nerve-jangling alterations.
When the townsfolk finally make their appearance (they're unaccounted for at night, later claiming to gather in the cemetery!), they seem normal enough upon first glance. None of them are given names. Most have no dialog, but speak volumes simply by observing from afar with disturbingly sinister countenances. When members of the cast are separated from the others, these curious acting locals come out and attack en mass recalling the cannibalistic villagers from the excellent MESSIAH OF EVIL. The nighttime scene aboard the broken down bus is a highlight.
With nothing to feed this motley bunch of victims-to-be, the problem is solved by relieving certain villagers of an arm or a leg which are then cooked as meaty dishes to the unsuspecting guests! These delectable moments are served up with a blackly comical relish that wasn't common among such European horror pictures. This predilection for the macabre works wonders in the script, and in Klimovsky's direction. This is one time where Euro-horror cinemas "dream logic" is dutifully applicable, and the instances of the unexplained only enhance the peculiarity of the proceedings.
The opening of the film sets this uneasy, nightmarish tone the rest of the picture maintains. In it, we see a funeral procession, but we never see the faces of the mourners. The casket accidentally falls and breaks open revealing a rotted corpse covered in maggots. The mourners turn and run away, but we never see their faces.
The script carefully unveils one clue after the next that our unwary travelers are not going to end up well. After the bus driver has a heart attack, they all disperse the bus to figure out what to do. The little girl Violet, walks away from the others momentarily and finds a small boy. She talks to him, but he doesn't say much. She turns away and then back again and the boy is suddenly gone. This boy pops up a few more times and it's obvious he's some apparition of sorts, although it's never clear what his connection is with the hamlet of horrors.
One of the best scenes involves a bit of ingeniously gruesome foreshadowing as the boy lures(?) Violet away to the cemetery. The boy has this swell idea to bury her doll, but leaves one of the dolls hands exposed through the earth. What follows is one of the films most disturbing sequences.
The Countess (listed as The Lady in the end credits), who holds sway over this mysterious village, is played by Euro cinema favorite Helga Line. Familiar to many from numerous Sword and Sandal and Italian western movies, Helga Line made an imprint on the Euro horror scene as well. She puts in what amounts to an extended cameo here, possibly racking up approximately 10 minutes of screen time total.
We learn just enough about who she is and how she came to be so wealthy, but her real function is to act as the Queen V. And she bares her fangs (among other things) on a few occasions. It's also worth mentioning that The Countess is the only member of this vampire cult that seems to have fangs. Others who are transformed into members of the undead only have noticeably large sets of teeth that give them an added ghastly appearance.
The gargantuan Bud Spencer lookalike, Fernando Bilbao, plays The Countess's main subordinate. He's not given a name, either. The credits list him simply as The Giant. He skulks around the town with his axe collecting limbs under orders of his vampiric mistress. He's easily the most Grand Guignol of the bunch. One scene is especially sardonic wherein he has his axe sharpened, then proceeds to chop off the arm of the man who performed the service!
The finale is also noteworthy in its revelation via Jack Taylor's dialog as to how this breed of vampire were able to walk in the daytime. Curiously, throughout the entire film, we never see any rays of sunlight. However, once the survivors escape the clutches of the hellish creatures, we glimpse the films only moments of brightness. The closing sequence packs a particularly ghostly punch. Where most movies of this sort would end after our heroes make their escape, Klimovsky's picture gives us one last surprise or two.
Along with Helga Line, Jack Taylor is the most recognizable face in the cast having amassed a great many credits to his name spanning Mexi-horror, lucha libre action and Euro genre fare from a gaggle of familiar horror directors. This is one of Taylor's best roles allowing him to be the lead hero and not some cold-natured professor type he was often associated with. He also has a lascivious side to his character. Upon finding a peephole in the wall of his room, he frequently watches Dianik Zurakowska (herself appearing in a handful of Euro genre offerings) undressing for bed!
The films one major misstep is a woefully unremarkable soundtrack. A few cues are pleasing, but all of them are canned tracks, and most of them do not fit the onscreen action at all. The few cues that have a Euro flavor to them are welcome, but the bulk of the library tunes chosen here would sound more at home in a lounge, or elevator somewhere.
Like the film this is paired with, DR. JEKYLL AND THE WOLFMAN (1972), this is the unclothed, international version of THE VAMPIRES NIGHT ORGY. There are a few nude scenes to amp up the trash quotient, but gore is kept to a minimum. The story is quite good, and Klimovsky's direction looks far more assured and focused than it normally did. The recent Code Red DVD is an essential purchase for horror collectors, and especially for those with an affinity for European lensed spookers. This orgiastic double header definitely satisfies.
This review is representative of the Code Red double feature DVD paired with DR. JEKYLL AND THE WOLFMAN.
DR. JEKYLL AND THE WOLFMAN 1971 (released in 1972) aka DR. JEKYLL Y EL HOMBRE LOBO
Paul Naschy (Waldemar Daninsky/Mr. Hyde), Jack Taylor (Dr. Henry Jekyll), Shirley Corrigan (Justine), Mirtha Miller (Sandra), Elsa Zabala (Yusika Bathory)
Directed by Leon Klimovsky
***WARNING! This review contains images of nudity***
"We'll use the formula discovered by my grandfather... to change his personality to that of the evil assassin he called Hyde..."--Dr.Jekyll's plan doesn't sound like the best way to cure a man of Lycanthropy, but horror fans win for his choice of treatment.
The Short Version: The melding of Dr. Jekyll with Daninsky's wolfman was yet another bizarre pairing where Paul Naschy's catalog of monster pictures were concerned. This intriguing team-up offers some choice themes and ideas, but there's so much crammed into the 88 minute running time, there isn't sufficient time to thoroughly explore them all. By the end, it feels like there were two movies made, and then put together. Sadly, the least interesting, but no less thematically packed first half takes too long getting to the much more fascinating second half where this ghoulishly groovy film really goes off the deep end; mostly in a good way. This being the unclothed, international version, there's plenty of nudity to supplement the gore and violence -- which is stronger than some of the man's works prior to this films release. Worth it for Naschy's performance as the sexual sadist-murderer Mr. Hyde alone, and a generally well made horror picture from Leon Klimovsky.
While on an excursion in the Carpathians to visit the graves of his murdered parents, Justine and her husband Emory are attacked by bandits that leave him dead. Justine is saved by Waldemar Daninsky and recuperates back at his isolated castle. Discovering he is a werewolf, Justine tells him that a cure may lie in the hands of her friend, Dr. Jekyll. Daninsky returns with her to London where Jekyll intends to cure the tortured wolfman with his personality altering serum. Seemingly free of his lycanthropic curse, the operation goes terribly wrong leaving Daninsky indefinitely transformed into into Mr. Hyde, a murderous, sex-crazed rapist with a hatred for women.
Spanish and Mexican horror cinema shared much in common. They both were drenched in atmosphere inspired by the likes of Universal horrors and Hammer Films productions. The two differed in that Spanish horror was generally much stronger (especially in their international versions) where sex and violence was concerned. They were also different in how they presented their stories. Mexican horror films, as wacky as they were, most often made sense structurally, whereas the plots in their Spanish counterparts were frequently fractured, often beaming with disrupted narratives that many fans are quick to celebrate for their "dream-like" qualities.
The storyline for the sixth Hombre Lobo movie is scattershot much like other Spanish horror productions. The first 40 minutes or so are leisurely paced, then the last half suddenly realizes it's only 88 minutes and tries to stuff everything it can into the remaining time allotted. Fortunately, Naschy was a better director than anyone he ever worked with, showing off his skills behind the camera a few years later proving that an unleashed Naschy was better than the one performing under someone else's guidance.
Known for his westerns as much as his horror movies, Leon Klimovsky did
many tales of terror throughout the 1970s and most all of them were
average affairs benefiting from strong atmosphere, but weak plotting. The director, like his contemporaries, had a keen eye for atmosphere, but their finished product seemed to always lack cohesion as if chunks of their script were tore out, or never written at all. But whether it was Klimovsky or Carlos Aured behind the camera, a horror fan could always count on a forbidding amount of atmosphere along with the crumbling castles and cemeteries.
The actual plot (as simplistic as it is) doesn't even begin till 40 minutes into the movie. It drags on far too long before the films title meeting even takes place. By dragging, that doesn't mean it's boring in any way. In fact, after spending a few minutes with the passive Dr. Jekyll at the beginning, the next 35 minutes are spent in familiar Naschy territory complete with sadistic, thieving bandits, a leper, a mysterious woman named Bathory(!) who raised Daninsky and oodles of Gothic ambiance. By the end, DR. JEKYLL AND THE WOLFMAN feels like two mini-movies (monster) mashed together.
The aforementioned backwoods villagers (as depicted in these Spanish horrors) must have had a reputation for violence in real life; those seen here range from rapists-murderers, to frightened, modern day torch bearers superstitious of witches and sorcery. They also get a lot of screen time and make up a major portion of the drawn out first half.
While the likewise crowded first portion settles into familiarity with Naschy's previous monster pictures, the second half of the movie goes for the jugular unleashing a geyser of bloody creativity; even if intentionally turning Daninsky into Mr. Hyde makes no sense as a cure for his lycanthropy problem (although Jekyll gives a decent enough explanation as to the reasoning behind it). That Naschy seeks the help of Dr. Jekyll, and in turn becomes Mr. Hyde, is a unique twist on the Stevenson classic tale. It's just a shame the film doesn't spend more time with this angle before introducing another just minutes later in the form of Jekyll's jealous female assistant and lover!
Yet again, the time factor doesn't allow for all the late-blooming subterfuge and incidental characters to be explored to any lengthy degree as the film nears its last reel and a rather abrupt finish. Oddly enough, it's the last reel where the film fumbles the most since it took so long getting to the main focal point -- the arc of Jekyll and Daninsky; the latter being exceptionally essayed by writer and star of the picture, everybody's favorite Werewolf of Spain, Paul Naschy aka Jacinto Molina.
Naschy's acting is nothing short of astounding here juggling three roles. As Daninsky, he's just as tortured as ever before. His wolfman, while not as fiercely energetic when the moon is full, is more sympathetic and lovelorn than usual. The make up and fang work are among the best; the teeth possessing a stained look to them for added realism. There are no pearly white flesh shredders here. But where Naschy really cuts loose as an actor is in one of the script's (which the actor wrote) few novel twists -- his interpretation of Mr. Hyde.
His vision of Mr. Hyde is arguably the most sadistic ever put to celluloid. The man is intense in his portrayal. Initially Hyde is a devilishly smiling madman with a raving sexual appetite. He's also, at first, under the control of Sandra (Mirtha Miller of COUNT DRACULA'S GREAT LOVE), the homicidal, and scorned mistress and assistant to Dr. Jekyll -- her character being an abridged version of the equally sinister Ilona Hellman from THE FURY OF THE WOLFMAN (1971). It's in her character (and Hyde's) where Naschy's script takes a brief turn into some fascinating territory regarding the nature of love and hate.
It's not just Daninsky who's a tragic, lovestruck character. Dr. Jekyll loves Justine, who preferred another man. After he's killed, she rather quickly falls for Waldemar. Meanwhile, Sandra plays the role of Jekyll's assistant and his lover. She, of course, loves him madly -- literally. Once she realizes Jekyll has no intentions of being with her forever, she betrays him, and through Mr. Hyde, she exacts revenge.
However, her revenge is short-lived as Hyde eventually shows her he has no intentions of being her brutish instrument. There's so much potential here, but the running time and director decide a straight horror-exploitation picture is the way to go, and this is what will appeal most to the cult horror crowds, anyways.
Jack Taylor as Jekyll is restrained, but the role demands it. We're not given a great deal of time with him, but he's believable in what scenes we get with the character. Taylor was a veteran of dozens of cult European horror movies and even did some Mexi-horrors such as his wacky turn as a wild-eyed sorcerer battling it out against German Robles' vampire in the Nostrodamus series entries THE MONSTERS DEMOLISHER and THE GENIE OF DARKNESS (both 1962).
British actress Shirley Corrigan is stunning, and easily among the most abused actresses in horror movie history. Her husband is murdered before her eyes, she's nearly raped by thugs, later raped by Mr. Hyde, bloodily lashed by him and other forms of torment. She's arguably the one character the viewer will identify with the most based on the abuse alone.
With Klimovsky at the helm, nothing is given time to brew properly outside of the standard Gothic horror retread of the films first 40 minutes. Once Hyde enters the fray during the last 20 minutes, there's simply not enough time left to traverse the arcs of Hyde and the jealous, murderous Sandra. That's not to say this isn't an unusually good, entertaining horror picture, because it is. Some of the best scenes include Naschy being stuck in an elevator with a nurse as the full moon rises, Hyde thrashing a bound and naked Justine, and a brief, climactic disco scene where Hyde reverts back to Daninsky, then to his more hairy persona as dozens of screaming patrons exit the building.
Some of the action scenes seem slow and a bit sloppy, but the plethora of horror elements and gore (Daninsky even pulls chunks of flesh out of one victim) override the shortcomings. Anton Garcia Abril's score is a welcome addition and some cues sound like they were borrowed from his superlative compositions from the exemplar Templar horror of TOMBS OF THE BLIND DEAD (1971). DR. JEKYLL AND THE WOLFMAN (1972) is well worth your investment; and for Naschy fans, this tour de force of werewolfery and Hyde's hedonistic sadist is a howlingly good time.
This review is representative of the Code Red DVD paired with THE VAMPIRES NIGHT ORGY (1973).
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A myriad group of people all on their way to begin work under the employ of a wealthy aristocrat encounter trouble when their bus driver suddenly dies from a heart attack. Traveling on, they decide to take a shorter route to a town called Tolnia to rest for the night. Curiously, the town isn't on their map, and when they arrive, they find the place deserted. The following day, the visitors discover the hamlet does indeed have villagers, and they're lorded over by a woman known only as The Countess. With their bus broke down, the Countess offers the stranded travelers free room and board, and also pays them for their inconvenience. However, the town of Tolnia harbors an evil secret, and as each night passes, more of the travelers disappear.
Veteran horror director Klimovsky has made a number of serviceable Euro-horrors (a few with Paul Naschy), and this tale of ghouls and vampires is one of the creepier ones. The anemic logic of European made spookers is surprisingly absent here, making the plotline of more interest than many of these movies, and recalls other, non Euro titles of a similar nature.
The director is very successful in this respect. Klimovsky takes this feeling of danger further by populating this isolated village with a murderous bunch of individuals whom all possess eerie visages made all the more pronounced by macabre camera angles and close ups. The faces of these villagers are unique, and recall similar grotesque human imagery seen in Leone's westerns, and also those of Corbucci.
Klimovsky's thematic inspirations are unknown, but similarities can be drawn from a few possible foreign horror subjects such as Romero's NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD (1968), Herschell Gordon Lewis's 2000 MANIACS (1964), CANNIBAL GIRLS (1972) and, to an extent, MESSIAH OF EVIL (1973). Arguably the most blatant inspiration would have to be the 'Midnight Mess' segment from THE VAULT OF HORROR (1973). The storyline of that 15 minute tale of horror from one of Amicus' last anthology films is stretched out to feature length here, but with some nerve-jangling alterations.
When the townsfolk finally make their appearance (they're unaccounted for at night, later claiming to gather in the cemetery!), they seem normal enough upon first glance. None of them are given names. Most have no dialog, but speak volumes simply by observing from afar with disturbingly sinister countenances. When members of the cast are separated from the others, these curious acting locals come out and attack en mass recalling the cannibalistic villagers from the excellent MESSIAH OF EVIL. The nighttime scene aboard the broken down bus is a highlight.
With nothing to feed this motley bunch of victims-to-be, the problem is solved by relieving certain villagers of an arm or a leg which are then cooked as meaty dishes to the unsuspecting guests! These delectable moments are served up with a blackly comical relish that wasn't common among such European horror pictures. This predilection for the macabre works wonders in the script, and in Klimovsky's direction. This is one time where Euro-horror cinemas "dream logic" is dutifully applicable, and the instances of the unexplained only enhance the peculiarity of the proceedings. 
The script carefully unveils one clue after the next that our unwary travelers are not going to end up well. After the bus driver has a heart attack, they all disperse the bus to figure out what to do. The little girl Violet, walks away from the others momentarily and finds a small boy. She talks to him, but he doesn't say much. She turns away and then back again and the boy is suddenly gone. This boy pops up a few more times and it's obvious he's some apparition of sorts, although it's never clear what his connection is with the hamlet of horrors. 
The Countess (listed as The Lady in the end credits), who holds sway over this mysterious village, is played by Euro cinema favorite Helga Line. Familiar to many from numerous Sword and Sandal and Italian western movies, Helga Line made an imprint on the Euro horror scene as well. She puts in what amounts to an extended cameo here, possibly racking up approximately 10 minutes of screen time total. 
We learn just enough about who she is and how she came to be so wealthy, but her real function is to act as the Queen V. And she bares her fangs (among other things) on a few occasions. It's also worth mentioning that The Countess is the only member of this vampire cult that seems to have fangs. Others who are transformed into members of the undead only have noticeably large sets of teeth that give them an added ghastly appearance.
The finale is also noteworthy in its revelation via Jack Taylor's dialog as to how this breed of vampire were able to walk in the daytime. Curiously, throughout the entire film, we never see any rays of sunlight. However, once the survivors escape the clutches of the hellish creatures, we glimpse the films only moments of brightness. The closing sequence packs a particularly ghostly punch. Where most movies of this sort would end after our heroes make their escape, Klimovsky's picture gives us one last surprise or two.
Along with Helga Line, Jack Taylor is the most recognizable face in the cast having amassed a great many credits to his name spanning Mexi-horror, lucha libre action and Euro genre fare from a gaggle of familiar horror directors. This is one of Taylor's best roles allowing him to be the lead hero and not some cold-natured professor type he was often associated with. He also has a lascivious side to his character. Upon finding a peephole in the wall of his room, he frequently watches Dianik Zurakowska (herself appearing in a handful of Euro genre offerings) undressing for bed!
Like the film this is paired with, DR. JEKYLL AND THE WOLFMAN (1972), this is the unclothed, international version of THE VAMPIRES NIGHT ORGY. There are a few nude scenes to amp up the trash quotient, but gore is kept to a minimum. The story is quite good, and Klimovsky's direction looks far more assured and focused than it normally did. The recent Code Red DVD is an essential purchase for horror collectors, and especially for those with an affinity for European lensed spookers. This orgiastic double header definitely satisfies.
