Mill of the Stone Women

Slow to develop, the Italian gothic genre is less consistent in quality than the Hammer movies filmmakers were quick to emulate.  But amidst the genuine classics by Mario Bava and Ricccardo Freda there are a number of fascinating one-offs that are still worth attention.  Mill of the Stone Women (1960) just so happens to be Italy’s first horror film in color, making for a lush, expressionistic debut that does more than just splash some blood around.

Structured like a Poe film, but based on an original screenplay, the story follows a young journalist, Hans, assigned to write about the lifelike stone statues created by Professor Gregorious Wahl.  Of course, there’s a reason why the professor’s art is so realistic; his sculptures are the petrified female victims used to supply his daughter, Elfie, with blood transfusions to keep her alive.   Hans, torn between his attraction to Elfie and his shock at the travesties being committed in the name of science, must overcome a plot to drive him mad before the secret gets out!

 

Director Giorgio Ferroni’s film is certainly a slow burner.  It’s takes almost until the third act before the mad scientist angle begins to assert itself, mixing plot elements with reckless abandon.  But luckily the stylized color scheme provides a pleasant distraction throughout, with unexpected reds, yellows and greens filling the screen’s darkened cobwebbed corners.  As is so often the case in Italian horror, it’s the look of the film that makes the best impression.

 

A tough find in any proper sort of transfer, Arrow Film’s new two-disc limited edition Blu-ray is a godsend for Italian horror fans.  Not only does it look terrific, but is includes four different versions (Italian, French, US and English Export) to future-proof the set.  Extras include a commentary by Tim Lucas, visual essay, archival interviews, alternate titles, fold-out poster and illustrated collector’s booklet.

 

 

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Tormented

Image
The west coast always struggled to create a creepy atmosphere on screen.  All that southern California sunshine just doesn’t lend itself to ghostly apparitions or gothic castles.  But  Tormented  (1960) gives it a good try, staging its opening scene in an abandoned lighthouse where blackmail turns into murder - and one cover up leads to another.  Director Bert I. Gordon, better known for his giant-sized - but low-budget - monster movies, works well at this level, turning in a film that delivers small scares but perhaps his most  professional finished product. Tom Stewart (played by genre regular Richard Carlson) is a fairly successful jazz pianist whose impending marriage to Meg Hubbard (Susan Gordon) will put him in an entirely new tax bracket.  Trouble is his old flame, Vi (Juli Reding), isn’t taking this lying down.  After  allowing  her to fall to her death in the opening scene, Tom is haunted by disembo...
Read more

All Ladies Do It / Frivolous Lola

Image
Every semi-professional review of erotica probably starts off with the same question:  what’s the difference between porn and art?  The internet age has essentially done away with foreplay; sex is merely the act of completion itself, minus the threat of any malware or suspicious browser activity.  But the work of Italian director Tinto Brass, for all its leering upskirt shots of derrieres and pubic hair, still communicates something that websites like Pornhub never will:  the art of seduction.  All Ladies Do It  (1992), a breezy sexual adventure, follows Diana (Claudia Koll) whose marriage is threatened by her fantasies of dalliances with other men, stories her husband believes are nothing more than exciting role play.  But her loose definition of adultery inspires plenty of promiscuous hook-ups, taking advantage of any (ahem)  loophole  that provides a quick thrill.   Flirting with some hardcore sequences (there...
Read more

The Cat and the Canary

Image
My favorite directors have always been showoffs:  Hitchcock, DePalma, Spielberg (when he’s feeling frisky) and gonzo auteurs like Sam Raimi.  There’s just something about their cinematic ambition, constantly reminding the audience that, yes, there actually  is  someone behind the camera calling the shots.  And that directorial discontent shines through even in the early days of the medium, such as Paul Leni’s 1927 adaptation of  The Cat and the Canary .  While the rest of the industry was still learning the basics of visual language, Leni fills his frame with tracking shots, POVs and dramatic lighting that set the standard for every spook show to come!  Gathered for the reading of the last will and testament of eccentric recluse Cyrus West,  the potential heirs meet up in his decrepit mansion to discover who will inherit the estate and family jewels.  Predictably there is some petty jealousy when young Annab...
Read more