COUNT DRACULA'S GREAT LOVE 1972 aka EL GRAN AMOR DEL CONDE DRACULA aka CEMETERY GIRLS
Paul Naschy (Count Dracula/Dr. Marlowe), Rosanna Yanni (Senta), Haydee Politoff (Karen), Mirta Miller (Elke), Ingrid Garbo (Marlene), Vic Winner (Imre Polvi), Jose Manuel Martin (Vampire)
Directed by Javier Aguirre
***WARNING! This review contains images of nudity***
"For this Gothic tale I transformed the terrifying Transylvanian Count
into a Romantic vampire who destroys himself for the love of a beautiful
mortal woman."--page 111 of Naschy's Memoirs of a Wolfman.
The Short Version: Javier Aguirre's incoherent vampire tale is a perfect example of style and (lots of) sex over substance. Its main vein lies in its thick Gothic atmosphere and erotic encounters, but is totally drained when it comes to plot and logic. Despite his size, Naschy looks fine as the Count, even if the script writes him as possibly the most anemic Prince of Darkness ever put to film. This Spanish Dracula is a hopeless romantic who INfrequently does what vampires do to remind us that we are in fact watching a Dracula movie. Curiously, the Brides and the male bloodsuckers enjoy sampling the Sangria more than the title fiend. The dubbing is more silly than usual, and the Dracula narration (in the dubbed print) doesn't help matters. The ending mimics BLACULA's, but feels forced as opposed to an attribute of the script. It's a mixed bag, but Naschy and Euro horror lovers will want to stake this one out.
Five travelers are stranded after their coach loses a wheel and the driver is seriously injured by one of the horses. With a storm and the cloak of darkness looming, the group decide to make their way to a nearby palatial sanitorium recently bought by a Dr. Wendell Marlowe. This spooky castle has a sordid history behind it that includes a devilish mad doctor and also a certain Transylvanian Count. Forced to stay for several days, they accept the hospitality of Dr. Marlowe. Later bearing witness to some frightening sights and diabolical happenings, the weary travelers discover they're actually the guests of Count Dracula.
As a movie, Naschy's sole effort playing Count Dracula is a mostly mediocre affair. There's virtually zero plot, and what little there is (cropping up late in the film) is summarily dropped from the narrative barely ten minutes later; by then, the movie is almost over with. The plot -- when it makes its sudden appearance -- involves Dracula reviving his daughter Rahdna by the bewildering process of torturing a virgin then mixing her blood with that of a woman that has fallen in love with him.
About five minutes later, Dracula suddenly decides against reviving his daughter, desiring to spend his everlasting days with a human bride named Karen, who loves him. But with scant few minutes remaining, the idea of being a vampire doesn't sound very appeasing to her. So what's a lovelorn vampire to do but take his own life; and so Dracula stakes himself, committing suicide. Much was made of this unusual scenario even though William Marshall did the same thing in BLACULA (1972) from the same year, but it had meaning there. In Naschy's film, Dracula's suicide feels almost like an afterthought.
"The Prince of Darkness will not acquire the true potential of his
bewitching power until he encounters a true virgin that will fall in
love with the vampire in a natural way... giving herself to him without
the need of his diabolical powers."--a scripting addition to the Dracula
character that doesn't make a whole lot of sense.
There's also this bizarre Dracula narration (see above quote) that dominates the latter portion of the movie. According to Naschy's memoirs, he lost his voice for a time, so possibly this narration is on both the dubbed and Spanish versions. Up to this point, Naschy's interpretation of The Count has been unlike any ever seen, and not particularly in a good way.
Turning the King of the Vampires into the lovesick undead sounds like a potentially enthralling idea; but not only does Dracula have cold hands to go with his warm heart, he's also something of a pushover. He's attacked and beaten up by those he's vampirized, and at one point, he's knocked unconscious(!) by Jose Manuel Martin's agitated vampire. Incidentally, the two male vamps seen in the movie look far more frightening than Dracula ever does; this may have been the intention of Naschy via his original work.
Aside from this peculiar treatment of Dracula, the film is filled with creepy visuals. These visuals act AS the story when there is none -- which is quite often. While the plot fails to materialize (Naschy wrote the story and screenplay with contributions by Alberto S. Insua and Javier Aguirre), the script compensates with scenes of
whipping and torturing by vampires, creepy slow motion shots of vampires
walking down fogged up corridors, or vampires battling each other for no reason
at all other than to pad out the running time.
Even more bizarre is the opening credits sequence. Apparently fearing we
might get bored watching the names of the cast and crew, the filmmakers
decide to replay the shot of the first pre-credits victim rolling down the steps
over and over again.
What makes the picture of greater interest is the incredible atmosphere the filmmakers were able to create. While fog machines and slow motion do their fair share, a lot of this ambiance derives from real locales, which were a vital component of European horror -- particular that of Spanish heritage.
Indoor (or to a degree, even outdoor) constructed sets lend an operatic feel to these movies, but for those that can't afford such luxuries, there's a certain mood that's captured by surroundings that live and breathe; that look like there's a great deal of history carved within their sometimes crumbling architecture. In the case of this movie, it's the home of 16th century nobility, the Duke and Duchess of Osuna and the surrounding grounds. Speaking of historical significance, the film does pay homage to both the mythical Dracula and the real one via some background told through dialog spoken by Vic Winner before our five ill-fated travelers end up at the castle-sanitorium.
The aforementioned look of the vampires -- the two other male ones -- is unique and very unsettling with their cat-like eyes. This look was later replicated for 1979s SALEM'S LOT; what this reviewer feels is still the scariest vampires ever designed. In fact, the vampires in Aguirre's movie are onscreen the bulk of the running time even when there's no motivation for seeing them all that time.
The amount of exposed flesh in COUNT DRACULA'S GREAT LOVE is also high. Euro horror tends to showcase at least two scenes of nudity in their movies. Spanish horror was, for its domestic releases at the time, forbidden to show sex and nudity so folks kept their clothes on; but took them off in scenes shot exclusively for the international markets. Naschy's Dracula opus contains more sexual content than usually found in these movies and it still packs an erotic wallop some 40 years after its release.
The statuesque Rosanna Yanni is the key ingredient to this films high sexual quotient. Her character of Senta is bursting at the seams with sexual energy. Her cleavage alone threatens to explode through her dress at any moment during shots of her bending over, or heaving her chest. Yanni is all too eager in her insistence to tease the camera and we, the viewers are happy to oblige whenever she disrobes, or is seen enjoying herself in a pool.
Sexy Senta is perpetually horny and when she's scorned after a lovemaking session with Dracula (she wasn't a virgin, after all, to which Drac fails to fulfill his vampiric potential according to his narration), the next time we see her, she's laid out on a tombstone being ravished by two of her now undead female companions. The two female vamps -- Elke and Marlene -- bite her on both sides of the neck then proceed to claw and suck at her breasts.
It's far more erotic and envelope-pushing than anything Hammer had done at this time; and despite its lack of cohesion, Aguirre's movie is far more engaging than anything Jean Rollin ever did -- a French director whose movies likewised lacked cohesion, but aside from sumptuous photography, were often great cures for insomnia.
Naschy's sole Dracula outing isn't as gruesome as the same years HUNCHBACK OF THE MORGUE (1972), but there's a lot of bloody violence and stakings throughout to deter from the lack of a plot. One of the films handful of creative moments showcases an unusual scene where a vampire stakes another vampire! One poor blood-drinker is impaled on a spiked fence; another is run through with a steel rod and one victim receives an axe in the head.
According to Naschy's memoirs, COUNT DRACULA'S GREAT LOVE was released in Spain in September of 1975, but a much earlier release date of December, 1973 is listed in the excellent, gorgeously mounted Naschy memorabilia compendium Muchos Gracias Senor Lobo. The film was reportedly a big success around the world. It was released in America in 1974 and also as a double billed shared with the Leon Klimovsky vampire spooker THE VAMPIRES NIGHT ORGY (1973). Naschy's vision of Dracula also played here as the exploitably titled CEMETERY GIRLS.
while it's far from being one of the man's exemplar works, it has things to recommend it to Euro cinephiles and vampire movie aficionados. Even so, it's often cited as a favorite among his devoted circle of followers. Viewing it as a movie, it's a relatively poor showing. With oodles of atmosphere, sex, nudity and blood, this neckbiter satisfies strictly on a visually entertaining level.
This review is representative of the Code Red DVD paired with VAMPIRE HOOKERS.
NIGHT OF THE DEVILS 1972 aka LA NOTTE DEI DIAVOLI
Gianni Garko (Nicola), Agostina Belli (Sdenka), Mark Roberts (Jovan), Cinzia de Carolis (Irena), Teresa Gimpera (Elena), William Vanders (Gorca Ciuvelek), Umberto Raho (Dr. Tosi), Luis Suarez (Vlado), Maria Monti (The Witch)
Directed by Giorgio Ferroni
The Short Version: This is underrated Italian filmmaker Giorgio Ferroni's modern day take on the Tolstoy tale that served as inspiration for Mario Bava's 50 minute 'The Wurdulak' segment from BLACK SABBATH (1963). If you're familiar with it, then you know how this 90 minute version plays out, but not without some differences. Well known for his Euro westerns, Gianni Garko essentially essays the same role Mark Damon held in Bava's interpretation. Marked by flashes of graphic gore and a palpable sense of dread, Ferroni's last horror film (he only did two) is remarkably tense and suspenseful in places despite jettisoning the Gothic ambiance that made Bava's version so memorable. A suitably cruel sting in the tail closes out this obscure, highly recommended, and forgotten gem of 70s European horror cinema.
On his way to a business deal to procure lumber for his company, Nicola takes a shorter route through a thickly wooded area and ends up in a car accident after a mysterious woman runs out in front of him. Searching the increasingly dense woods for help, he finds an isolated farmhouse owned by Gorca Ciuvelek, where he lives with his family. Refusing to help with the darkness closing in, Gorca offers Nicola a room for the night. During dinner, Nicola notices a lot of tension and fear between the family members regarding a curse on the lineage and a mysterious witch that lives somewhere out in the woods.
The name Giorgio Ferroni isn't one that's bandied about much in cult film circles. Of his known filmography, the films that always get the bulk of the attention are his westerns and Sword and Sandal pictures. He did only two horror pictures -- one of them has been fairly well known amongst genre aficionados, while the other, the one being reviewed here, has been obscure for many years and only available via bootleg outlets till recently.
The period of Ferroni's directorship that is of most interest is a twelve year stretch between 1960 and 1972. His works before and (the one) after are not as well known, or accessible outside of Italy. What's interesting to note is that his first film of special mention was a horror film (MILL OF THE STONE WOMEN [1960]) and his last -- the horror film NIGHT OF THE DEVILS from 1972.
Things kick off with a solemn and soothing cue from composer Giorgio Gaslini (DEEP RED) setting a tone that hints at dark romanticism. There's very little romance here, but what's here is treated in the darkest horror styling possible. This main theme is used generously throughout and serves the same purpose as the equally lighter toned main themes of such extremely violent Euro horror pictures like MARK OF THE DEVIL (1970) and CANNIBAL HOLOCAUST (1980).
From there the film follows our main protagonist Nicola, (Nicolas in the dubbed version) noticeably shaken from some major ordeal. In shock, he's taken to a hospital leading to a bizarre hallucinatory sequence packed with gore (a face is blasted away by gunshots and a heart is ripped out) and some graphic nudity where a naked woman lies on a slab while two characters wearing skull masks apparently mean to do her harm. This is all in Nicola's head, of course, and the bulk of the movie details the horrifying events that have brought him to this point.
NIGHT OF THE DEVILS is essentially a retelling of Aleksey Tolstoy's 'The Wurdulak', which was most famously adapted in Mario Bava's BLACK SABBATH (1963). Ferroni's movie stays faithful to Bava's interpretation of the tale (even replicating some classic shots from Bava's rendition), but transplants the action to modern times as opposed to a period setting. The Gothic, dark fairy tale ambiance of Bava's version is also jettisoned in favor of a growing sense of dread deep within an oppressively dense forest. However, it does display a striking parallel between tradition and modernization; and not just as a reflection of the real world, but also of the changing trends in genre cinema as well.
The script draws a fine line between superstition and reality; between a burgeoning modern society and those who prefer to live in the past, sticking to old traditions and values. These (anti) social mechanics also stretch out into the world of religion -- those who believe and those who do not. Ironically enough, having faith and believing in the palpable threat of evil to be able to conquer it doesn't guarantee salvation as the cruel twist at the end attests.
This clash of times and traditions begins almost immediately once Nicola discovers the Ciuvelek family dwelling deep in the woods, far from the modernity of the concrete forests of industrialized cities. Clearly by the films opening and that Nicola drives a car, it's obvious the time is the 1970s. Yet, you'd never know from the way this family lives. They've not heard of a television, nor do the children recognize such words as 'disease'. They're seemingly living in a bubble; a state not too far removed from the medieval era setting of Bava's take on this tale.
It's also of interest that NIGHT OF THE DEVILS can be viewed as a filmic clash between the dying Gothic era horror film and the much more blatantly graphic, gore-drenched horror theatrics that took over in the 1970s. Mario Bava, for instance -- his 60s films had a quality about them that was missing in his 70s works. BARON BLOOD (1972) was an attempt at re-capturing the feel of the previous decade. Ferroni's movie makes a case for tradition, but ultimately accepts the conventions horror was embracing at this time and does so with an artistic flavor lacking in other Euro horror films of this time period.
Back to the culture clash of DEVILS, we learn that there were others that lived in these woods, but they left for life in the city. Unlike those others mentioned, the patriarch Gorca refuses to leave his home. But instead of being afraid of abandoning tradition, it's to eradicate a supposed family curse brought on by his now dead brother. Once welcomed into their home, Nicola, exceedingly curious of this out of time family, questions why the other woodland dwellers moved away. The elder son Jovan (who frequently clashes with his fathers reasoning) states that the younger generation fled because they only want money, finding it undesirable to work hard for ones earnings. This is as political as this movie gets, yet that statement does speak fervently on the subject of elder generational work ethic versus what was the modern era of the time.
The Wurdulak itself (not even called by name till past the hour mark) takes the form of a witch that wanders around in the woods during the daytime and especially the night. Where she comes from is not known, but she is the source of the horror in the film. There's some great moments that foreshadow the terror ahead such as a bit where Nicola asks why the windows are boarded up. He attempts to open one after dark and Sdenka becomes excited, begging him to leave it locked. Horror movie protocol dictates that whatever measures you take to keep something out is only going to last for so long.
The violence is strong and the gore (by Carlo Rambaldi) is splashy and generous at times. Some of these scenes are pervasively gruesome; particularly a murder committed by a child. Again, if you've seen Bava's interpretation of the story, you will have an idea of how this film plays out. The gore is well done for the most part, yet limitations of the time are evident in a few shots. Rambaldi created, among other things, dismemberments, bloody impalements and decomposing bodies for the camera to lovingly caress with its zoom lens. The performances are also believable across the board.
Gianni Garko might forever be associated with the sleuthing, trick gadget gunslinger of his famous Sartana character, but he tackles the role of Nicola with conviction. He spends the opening and closing sequences in either shock or a straight jacket, so the flashback segment of how he got to his mentally fractured state builds up to that. Outside of a scant few roles, Garko was mostly known for playing sardonic, TRINITY style gunmen in western productions, so this serious turn -- in a horror film no less -- is a welcome deviation from his familiar norm.
Garko's most well known roles among fans in the US would be a slew of Italian westerns. Among these are 1967s 10,000 DOLLARS FOR A MASSACRE (where he played a bounty hunting Django), THEY CALL HIM CEMETERY (1971) and his most popular, the aforementioned SARTANA (1968); a role he returned to in three official sequels. Garko also donned a bizarre, white colored, feathery get-up in MOLE MEN AGAINST THE SON OF HERCULES (1961) and fought Steve Reeves in WAR OF THE TROJANS (1962), the sequel to Ferroni's classic THE TROJAN HORSE (1961). He also led the brigade of FIVE FOR HELL (1969) against the Nazis under the command of Klaus Kinski among other roles.
As for Ferroni, he is best known for his peplum sagas and westerns. For his Torch & Toga movies, he never showed interest for delving into the fantasy realm that represented the best and worst of the genre; instead his examples of the genre had a hand in the historical, as well as actual Greek mythology. His westerns encompassed just as many examples, including a trilogy of pictures all starring the charismatic, and wildly popular Giuliano Gemma. Ferroni's westerns were well made and filled with action and twisting plots, but were more in the American style of western as opposed to the barren wasteland of Leone's template.
With the release of MILL OF THE STONE WOMEN (1960) showing Ferroni possessing a deft hand at handling horror, this restored release of NIGHT OF THE DEVILS (1972) reinforces that claim. Furthermore, both films showcase diametrically different styles of horror -- one is of the Bava school of atmospheric gloom and the other, while re-doing a story brought to cinematic life by Bava, tells the tale in a grim style that would personify Italian genre films of the 1970s. Ferroni's DEVILS is a wonderfully haunting, occasionally scary, and near seamless bridge between the fog enshrouded Gothics of the 1960s and the new approach that took over in the coming decade.
This review is representative of the Raro Video DVD.
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The Short Version: Javier Aguirre's incoherent vampire tale is a perfect example of style and (lots of) sex over substance. Its main vein lies in its thick Gothic atmosphere and erotic encounters, but is totally drained when it comes to plot and logic. Despite his size, Naschy looks fine as the Count, even if the script writes him as possibly the most anemic Prince of Darkness ever put to film. This Spanish Dracula is a hopeless romantic who INfrequently does what vampires do to remind us that we are in fact watching a Dracula movie. Curiously, the Brides and the male bloodsuckers enjoy sampling the Sangria more than the title fiend. The dubbing is more silly than usual, and the Dracula narration (in the dubbed print) doesn't help matters. The ending mimics BLACULA's, but feels forced as opposed to an attribute of the script. It's a mixed bag, but Naschy and Euro horror lovers will want to stake this one out.
Five travelers are stranded after their coach loses a wheel and the driver is seriously injured by one of the horses. With a storm and the cloak of darkness looming, the group decide to make their way to a nearby palatial sanitorium recently bought by a Dr. Wendell Marlowe. This spooky castle has a sordid history behind it that includes a devilish mad doctor and also a certain Transylvanian Count. Forced to stay for several days, they accept the hospitality of Dr. Marlowe. Later bearing witness to some frightening sights and diabolical happenings, the weary travelers discover they're actually the guests of Count Dracula.
As a movie, Naschy's sole effort playing Count Dracula is a mostly mediocre affair. There's virtually zero plot, and what little there is (cropping up late in the film) is summarily dropped from the narrative barely ten minutes later; by then, the movie is almost over with. The plot -- when it makes its sudden appearance -- involves Dracula reviving his daughter Rahdna by the bewildering process of torturing a virgin then mixing her blood with that of a woman that has fallen in love with him. 
About five minutes later, Dracula suddenly decides against reviving his daughter, desiring to spend his everlasting days with a human bride named Karen, who loves him. But with scant few minutes remaining, the idea of being a vampire doesn't sound very appeasing to her. So what's a lovelorn vampire to do but take his own life; and so Dracula stakes himself, committing suicide. Much was made of this unusual scenario even though William Marshall did the same thing in BLACULA (1972) from the same year, but it had meaning there. In Naschy's film, Dracula's suicide feels almost like an afterthought.
Turning the King of the Vampires into the lovesick undead sounds like a potentially enthralling idea; but not only does Dracula have cold hands to go with his warm heart, he's also something of a pushover. He's attacked and beaten up by those he's vampirized, and at one point, he's knocked unconscious(!) by Jose Manuel Martin's agitated vampire. Incidentally, the two male vamps seen in the movie look far more frightening than Dracula ever does; this may have been the intention of Naschy via his original work.
Aside from this peculiar treatment of Dracula, the film is filled with creepy visuals. These visuals act AS the story when there is none -- which is quite often. While the plot fails to materialize (Naschy wrote the story and screenplay with contributions by Alberto S. Insua and Javier Aguirre), the script compensates with scenes of
whipping and torturing by vampires, creepy slow motion shots of vampires
walking down fogged up corridors, or vampires battling each other for no reason
at all other than to pad out the running time.
Even more bizarre is the opening credits sequence. Apparently fearing we
might get bored watching the names of the cast and crew, the filmmakers
decide to replay the shot of the first pre-credits victim rolling down the steps
over and over again. 
Indoor (or to a degree, even outdoor) constructed sets lend an operatic feel to these movies, but for those that can't afford such luxuries, there's a certain mood that's captured by surroundings that live and breathe; that look like there's a great deal of history carved within their sometimes crumbling architecture. In the case of this movie, it's the home of 16th century nobility, the Duke and Duchess of Osuna and the surrounding grounds. Speaking of historical significance, the film does pay homage to both the mythical Dracula and the real one via some background told through dialog spoken by Vic Winner before our five ill-fated travelers end up at the castle-sanitorium.
The amount of exposed flesh in COUNT DRACULA'S GREAT LOVE is also high. Euro horror tends to showcase at least two scenes of nudity in their movies. Spanish horror was, for its domestic releases at the time, forbidden to show sex and nudity so folks kept their clothes on; but took them off in scenes shot exclusively for the international markets. Naschy's Dracula opus contains more sexual content than usually found in these movies and it still packs an erotic wallop some 40 years after its release. 
Sexy Senta is perpetually horny and when she's scorned after a lovemaking session with Dracula (she wasn't a virgin, after all, to which Drac fails to fulfill his vampiric potential according to his narration), the next time we see her, she's laid out on a tombstone being ravished by two of her now undead female companions. The two female vamps -- Elke and Marlene -- bite her on both sides of the neck then proceed to claw and suck at her breasts. 
Naschy's sole Dracula outing isn't as gruesome as the same years HUNCHBACK OF THE MORGUE (1972), but there's a lot of bloody violence and stakings throughout to deter from the lack of a plot. One of the films handful of creative moments showcases an unusual scene where a vampire stakes another vampire! One poor blood-drinker is impaled on a spiked fence; another is run through with a steel rod and one victim receives an axe in the head.
According to Naschy's memoirs, COUNT DRACULA'S GREAT LOVE was released in Spain in September of 1975, but a much earlier release date of December, 1973 is listed in the excellent, gorgeously mounted Naschy memorabilia compendium Muchos Gracias Senor Lobo. The film was reportedly a big success around the world. It was released in America in 1974 and also as a double billed shared with the Leon Klimovsky vampire spooker THE VAMPIRES NIGHT ORGY (1973). Naschy's vision of Dracula also played here as the exploitably titled CEMETERY GIRLS. 
