Terror Transmission

The Reincarnation of Isabel (Riti, magie nere e segrete orge nel trecento) – 1973 – Italy – Redemption (It should be noted that the original European version is being reviewed here.)

Renato Polselli is the same auteur who brought us such dreck as “The Vampire and the Ballerina” (1960), “The Vampire of the Opera” (1964), and the uninspired Giallo, “Delirium” (1972), so my expectations weren’t exactly in the stratosphere for this picture. I had heard some decent things being bandied about in the horror community regarding this flick, so the completist in me plopped down his 10 bucks and apprehensively sat with fingers crossed through 98 minutes of over/under-acted, languorously paced and oblivious nonsense. Oh, the laborious pains I go through for you, dear reader!

Anyone who has seen a post-”Black Sunday” or “City of the Living Dead” gothic-witch chiller will be overly familiar with the premise here. A cast of familiar Italian faces including Rita Calderoni, Christa Barrymore and Mickey Hargitay (he of the mongoloid eye, and the lone Americanski) gather around a marvelously beautiful castle surrounded by snow-capped mountains to celebrate the betrothal of Marcia to a heavily mustached nobleman. Seriously folks, it looks like a dead cat took up residence on this guy’s upper lip. The site of their re-acquaintance once hosted an inquisition tribunal and subsequent burning of the witch/vampire Isabella. The gathered characters are the reincarnated spirits of the dramatis personae involved in the old atrocity and they find themselves irresistibly drawn towards perpetuating a new one, much to the chagrin of poor Marcia. Sounds familiar, huh? The modern cultists/vampires set about corrupting the beautiful young ladies through vampiric embraces and orgiastic rites in the hope of revitalizing their idol, the witch Isabella. The fact that all of the naked and nubile flesh on display and the overtly sexual subtext in the script still manages to be so non-erotic is testament to the paucity of emotion this flick is, unfortunately, imbued with. What you will get is some stirringly beautiful cinematography, wonderful art-direction, and some absolutely dazzling location shots, but even these are marred by occasional oversights such as the atemporal mesh-wire fences clearly visible during the frequent flashback sequences and the most absurd looking faux bats and snakes I have ever seen . I was keeling over with laughter in one scene where an obviously fake snake rears up and proceeds to bounce up and down repeatedly in place like a retarded kangaroo. Fucking hilarious, I’m still laughing now even as I write this! The music is generally above par save for some ill-timed forays into electro-jazz and some jaunty piano bits, especially in an absurdly incongruous sex scene which appears to have been added post-facto, perhaps to appease the money-men. The frequent ritual interludes are awkward and stagy and have no sense of time or place to them, and this contrasting other-worldliness may well have been the aim of the director, but it just makes them seem like out-takes from some sleazy hallucinogenic stage-play. It is not until the final ten minutes that the pace quickens, but by then you will likely have long-since lost interest in this as serious entertainment. Their are some beautiful set-ups and shots, but Polselli seriously overreached his skills as a storyteller and this flick falls flat on its face because of it. If you like to have a good belly-laugh at train wrecks, this one’s for you; otherwise spending 98 minutes picking your nose will be more interesting than watching this pap.

Jason’s Grade: D+