whip and the body

Director Mario Bava’s cinematic universe is full of gothic castles, dramatic lighting and masked killers. But 1963’s The Whip and the Body adds an edgy S & M twist that makes the Roger Corman / Vincent Price Poe films it was designed to compete with seem tame by comparison.

Christopher Lee stars as Kurt Menliff, the prodigal son whose return to his ancestral home is greeted with outrage and contempt. Picking up where he left off, Kurt lures his brother’s wife, Nevenkah (Daliah Lavi), into a masochistic affair and threatens to reclaim the inheritance he forfeited so long ago. But his unexpected murder casts suspicion on every member of the household; a mystery made even more urgent when Nevenka claims that her tormentor has risen from the grave seeking revenge.

One of Bava’s most difficult films to track down, it’s full of his signature Technicolor lighting scheme; reds, green and blues streaming down cobwebbed corridors and hiding in every corner of the screen. Shot between Black Sabbath and Blood and Black Lace, there’s enough going on here visually to make it required viewing on that count alone. But the script by giallo elder statesman Ernesto Gastaldi introduces a number of psycho-sexual elements (including one overt scene of necrophilia) that are unlike anything else released at the time.

Being an Italian production, Lee’s menacing baritone is replaced by a less effective dub job. But he remains an imposing figure, alive or dead. Once he’s physically out of the picture, the script kills time with red herrings and long walks down creepy hallways. Bava, however is more than up to the challenge of keeping things interesting with his camera work alone, including one unforgettable jump scare with Lee’s hand threatening to reach right out of the screen.

The Whip and the Body is an unrelentingly grim picture, one that offers viewers nothing in the way of comic relief or emotional release . And in that respect, it’s one of Bava’s most difficult films to “enjoy”…but one of the easiest to appreciate.

Kino Classics makes this the latest addition to their Mario Bava collection and deliver a nice hi-def transfer minted from a 35mm print. While there seems to be more grain here than in their other Bava titles, Whip is also a particularly dark film that was bound to be problematic in any format. The additional commentary by Video Watchdog editor Tim Lucas (ported over from a previous DVD) makes it hard to quibble about a special edition that will fill a welcome gap on many a collector’s shelf.