Daughters of Darkness

Belgium - France - Germany | 1971 Directed by Harry Kümel Starring Delphine Seyrig John Karlen Andrea Rau Color | 100 Minutes | Not Rated Format: DVD (R1 - NTSC | 2-disc set) Blue Underground

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6     10   10 = Highest Rating   Guest Review by Troy Howarth

A young couple (John Karlen and Danielle Ouimet) encounter a mysterious Countess (Delphine Seyrig) and her seductive companion (Andrea Rau) while on their honeymoon...     Loosely based on the real life exploits of the infamous Countess Bathory — the "bloody countess" who slaughtered young virgin girls and bathed in their blood in order to sustain her youth — Daughters of Darkness is a stylish if strained attempt at an arty (read, classy) horror film. The ingredients are in place for an exploitation romp, but director Harry Kümel is more concerned with maintaining a glossy sheen than he is in indulging in anything too distasteful. The end result compares interestingly to other erotic vampire pictures of the period (1970's Vampyros Lesbos, 1974's Vampyres) but the fussy exterior simply makes the film harder to warm to. The visuals are admittedly stunning, but one gets the impression that the filmmakers are a little too apologetic for the material, and the genre in general, for the film to ever effectively spring to life.     On the plus side, Kümel creates some marvelously fetching images. The use of color and decor ensure that the various set-pieces are richly detailed and striking. The imagery is really the chief thing the film has going for it, though there is pleasure to be had in the performances. The enigmatic, but lovely, Delphine Seyrig (Last Year at Marienbad) makes a strong impression as the Countess. It's plain to see that Seyrig modeled her appearance and demeanor on Marlene Dietrich, but her vamping stops short of outright camp. She succeeds in highlighting the character's sense of loneliness and isolation, though limitations in the writing prevent the character from developing beyond two dimensions. The actress works hard to make the Countess into something more than a demonic bloodsucker, but she never fully enlists audience sympathy. John Karlen (Dark Shadows) and Danielle Ouimet are well cast as the not-so-innocent young couple, though only Karlen is given much of an opportunity to embroider on his character — he plays the vain and spoiled Stefan with an air of sadomasochistic glee that avoids conventional expectations. The most vivid impression is left, however, by the stunning Andrea Rau, a former softcore actress who brings an air of angelic innocence to her role as the Countess' vampiric companion. Rau isn't given a great deal of dialogue, but she uses body language effectively to communicate a sense of entrapment. In addition to the central performances and striking imagery, Kümel is to be commended for creating some genuinely erotic moments without overindulging in graphic detail. The presence of such lovely actresses as Rau and Ouimet certainly has a lot to do with this, but there is a delicate touch to the eroticism that is not to be found in many other films of its ilk. A highly effective music score by Francois De Roubaix adds to the atmosphere.     On the downside, it has to be admitted that the film is slowly paced to the point of distraction. A slow, dreamy tempo can be highly effective in horror films — directors like Mario Bava and Roman Polanski often use such pacing to their advantage, for example — but there is a distinction to be made between slow and dull. Alas, much of Daughters of Darkness is simply that: dull. The overwhelming impression is that Kümel, coming from a background in art films, was a bit ashamed to be working in the genre and decided to buck conventions wherever he could. While this isn't necessarily a bad thing in itself, such an attitude works against the film. It is never sufficiently eerie, despite all the skulking around, and worse still, it is emotionally barren and cold. There are some indications that we are supposed to care about what happens to the characters, but it's virtually impossible to do so — the Countess remains too enigmatic, the wife too passive and the husband too abusive. Without a sufficient emotional hook, it is difficult to become engaged in the material. The viewer is left, instead, to admire the scenery and the artfully composed imagery — technically satisfying, perhaps, but never really involving.

Blue Underground's two-disc special edition of Daughters of Darkness is highly commendable. The first disc includes a newly remastered 1.66/16x9 transfer. Previous releases by Anchor Bay and Blue Underground (a single-disc edition, reviewed here) met with criticism from some fans, but this new edition looks very good indeed. The film is fully uncut, retaining some footage snipped from the original U.S. theatrical release, and the image is colorful throughout. Some of the shots look a bit soft, but this seems to have been a deliberate decision on Kümel's part and fits the film's dreamlike ambiance. The mono English soundtrack is clean and clear — unusually for a foreign film of this vintage, the film was shot with direct sound and it would seem that everybody is speaking with their actual voice.     Extras commence on Disc 1 with a theatrical trailer, a still gallery, some radio spots, two audio commentary tracks, and three featurettes. The commentary track with star John Karlen, moderated by David Del Valle, is ported over from the previous DVD and LD incarnations from BU and Anchor Bay. Karlen makes for a good commentator, frankly discussing the film and his collaborators, and seeming to have a hell of a good time doing so. The second track, from BU's single-disc release, features co-writer/director Harry Kümel and is moderated by BU's David Gregory. Kümel speaks in heavily-accented English but is easy to understand. The track isn't as lively as Karlen's, but Kümel is thoughtful in his comments on everything from the production to what he looks for in a good movie. Two featurettes are unique to this release: the first features Kümel and producer/co-writer Pierre Drouot as they revisit the film's locations; the second features Danielle Ouimet. A third featurette, ported from BU's 2003 release, interviews Andrea Rau. Everybody involved remembers the film with tremendous pride and enthusiasm, and their collective recollections paint a vivid picture of its surprisingly chaotic production.     Disc 2 includes a bonus feature of singular note — a repackaging of Anchor Bay's release of The Blood Spattered Bride (1972), a deliriously bloody adaptation of Sheridan LeFanu's Carmilla which is, arguably, the stronger of the two movies. The film is presented uncut, in its original 1.85 ratio (enhanced for widescreen TVs), and includes a trailer and still gallery. 1/17/07

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