The Night of the Werewolf

Spain | 1980 Directed by Jacinto Molina Starring Paul Naschy Julia Saly Silvia Aguilar Color | 93 Minutes | R Format: DVD (R1 - NTSC) BCI/Deimos Entertainment

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		Review by Brian Lindsey

5     7   10 = Highest Rating

Paul Naschy (re)treads very familiar territory in Night of the Werewolf, his ninth screen portrayal of cursed Polish nobleman Waldemar Daninsky. Basically a remake of 1971's Werewolf Shadow (with a bit of 1973's Curse of the Devil tossed in via the opening prologue), Night overcomes shoddy plotting and slow pacing in its unapologetic celebration of classic horror iconography. By 1980, vampires and werewolves — creeping about crumbling castles with fog machines cranked to maximum — had fallen out of favor with moviegoers, who at the time were slaking their horror thirst on the masked serial killers of the slasher genre. Naschy, a devotee of gothic horror since childhood, seems to have not given a damn, determined to make the kind of fright flick he wanted to see. Britain's Hammer Films, the world's premier purveyor of gothic horror in the age of color cinema, had folded its tent in the early 1970s and to Naschy this left a void — a void he felt qualified to fill. (Not just the star of the picture, Naschy also wrote and directed under his real name.) He doesn't quite manage to pull this off but Beelzebub bless him for giving it the old college try.     What have to be Munich University's three foxiest anthropology students are planning a trip to the Carpathian Mountains, in rural Hungary, for a research project. Their goal is to investigate old ruins for evidence of the true resting place of the infamous "Blood Countess", Elizabeth Báthory, an aristocrat accused of torturing and murdering hundreds of young girls in the early 1600s. Karen (Azucena Hernández) and Barbara (Pilar Alcón) view the excursion as a fun road trip, but Erika (Silvia Aguilar) has a much more serious purpose — one going far beyond any dedication to academic studies. Secretly a satanist, Erika fully believes the gruesome legends surrounding Báthory, that the Hungarian noblewoman really was a sorceress and vampire. She also believes that Báthory has contacted her across the dark veil of the spirits, seeking her aid in returning to the world of the living. Erika, having pledged her soul as a servant to the Blood Countess, will do anything to achieve this. Even commit murder.     The college girls seem to cross a threshold into a bygone age as they drive their rented car deeper into the Carpathians. When they're attacked by bandits on a country road, an unseen 'Good Samaritan' comes to their rescue by dispatching the thugs with a crossbow. Arriving at a supposedly abandoned castle ruin (where their car naturally breaks down), the women discover an unexpected resident — a burly bearded man, dressed in a medieval tunic, who calls himself Janos Burko. It was he who saved them from the bandits. With his disfigured servant Mircalla (Beatriz Elorrieta), Burko welcomes them to stay at the castle and conduct their research. Erika fervently sets about finding the hidden sarcophagus of Countess Báthory while sexy young Karen begins falling in love with their mysterious host.     "Burko" is really Waldemar Daninsky, the werewolf servant of Countess Báthory who was executed, a cross-shaped silver dagger hammered into his chest, almost four centuries earlier. By a very convenient coincidence Daninsky's tomb was rifled by graverobbers just before the ladies arrived; when the dagger was removed he returned to life, in bestial form, and slew the interlopers. Now he resumes his cursed existence, wracked by guilt for the evil he committed in service to the vampire-witch. Meanwhile, the undead sorceress herself is resurrected by the eager Erika in a bloody black magic ritual...     Naschy, directing an hombre lobo film for the first time, does a fine job establishing and maintaining a pervasive gothic ambiance, making excellent use of the ruined Spanish castle that served as the primary shooting location. It's clear that, as an artist, he absolutely loves this world, the world of the classic monsters as portrayed by Universal in the 1930s and '40s and Hammer in the '50s and '60s. As usual he gives it his all when in beast mode, although his werewolf isn't quite as physically active here as in previous Daninsky flicks such as 1968's Frankenstein's Bloody Terror (at least not until the climactic wolf man vs. vampire dustup at the end, that is). Panic Beats' Julia Saly, as the Blood Countess, steals much of his thunder — she's truly convincing as the spellcasting vampiress, not only looking the part but playing it with evil relish. Further enhancing the film is the score, which, although cobbled together from library cues (and putting aside the wildly inappropriate pop/disco main theme), often sounds appropriately 'Hammer-ish'.     So there's plenty of atmosphere, a trio of pretty Spanish lasses to ogle, and some effective monster scenes involving the vampires and Naschy's lycanthrope. During the middle portion of the film, though, things just seem to drag, with little advancement in the story. At just a tad over 90 minutes' running time the movie isn't a particularly long one but there are definitely moments when it feels longer than it is. A rather inordinate amount of screen time is wasted on characters who clumsily wander into the plot merely to serve as monster chow — time that could've been better spent on, say, the gals sunbathing nude atop the castle battlements (...or something like that). Five or ten minutes could've easily been trimmed for a more compact narrative. Horndogs and gorehounds will be disappointed by the relatively tame nudity and gore on display; were this an Italian horror pic you can bet there'd have been a lesbian sex scene in there somewhere. Báthory's zombie bodyguard makes a dramatic entrance only to be dispatched in ridiculously easy fashion. And if you've already screened Werewolf Shadow (AKA The Werewolf Vs. The Vampire Woman), the overwhelming sense of déjà vu may induce as much boredom as it does nostalgic pleasure.

From Deimos Entertainment (under the auspices of BCI Eclipse), the new Night of the Werewolf DVD for Region 1 should make Naschy/gothic horror fans quite happy. The 1.78:1 anamorphic widescreen transfer is marvelous looking, practically damage-free and exhibiting rich colors. Picture isn't razor sharp but the slightly soft, diffused quality of the image is apparently a deliberate affectation of the original filmmakers — the movie is meant to have a 'candlelit' look. Three audio choices are provided: dubbed English mono, an English Dolby 5.1 mix, and a stereo Spanish (Castilian) track with optional English subtitles. Alas, none of these is top-drawer. The mono English and Spanish tracks are disagreeably flat-sounding, with the latter suffering the occasional drop-out and crackle. The 5.1 track trends weak, sounding somewhat hollow at times. Even so, all three tracks get the job done in a manner that never really detracts from one's enjoyment of the film.     Deimos has tossed in some nice, if not very extensive, extras. Chief among these is an illustrated booklet of excellent liner notes on Naschy and the film's production by Mirek Lipinski, webmaster of Latarnia.com. On the disc, a brief video introduction by the man himself, Paul Naschy, sets the stage for the movie. ("I assume you've turned out the lights...") You also get the American theatrical trailer and the original Spanish credits. Two deleted scenes, involving nonessential characters, serve only to reveal why they were dropped from the film in the first place. A pair of sizable image galleries, one of production stills (showing the alternate "clothed" version of the sacrifice scene), the other of poster art and lobby cards, complete the supplements. 5/16/07

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