The Best of Bava

    Filmmaker. Schlockmeister. Legend.

    Few filmmakers have had such a widespread influence upon the horror genre like Mario Bava. Bava almost single-handedly invented the brand of Italian horror known as giallo, an especially violent brand of thriller that acts as a precursor of sorts to the later slasher craze of the eighties. When Bava’s original dream of becoming a painter didn’t pan out, the director decided to go into the family business (his father was a special effects artist for movies) and became a well-regarded cinematographer of Italian films throughout the 1940’s and 50’s. As his resume grew from cinematographer to director, Bava gained quite the reputation of making films cheaply and efficiently - indeed, the director was called upon more than once to come into troubled shoots and finish the films in which other directors had abandoned. Working so cheaply and quickly (and also seemingly unable to turn down a paycheck) didn’t always lend itself to the best of quality, but when Bava was on his game, he truly struck gold - producing some of the best and most influential genre films ever made.

    So, in no particular order, the best films of Mario Bava…

Bay of Blood (aka Twitch of the Death Nerve), 1971

   
    The first thing you have to realize to truly appreciate Bay of Blood is that the whole affair is a joke. If the movie proceeding it didn’t tip you off, then surely the nutso ending should solidify it: this is Mario Bava sending up the subgenre he basically invented. It’s certainly a shock to the system if you only know Bava from his earlier work - here he trades his usual kaleidoscopic soundstages of color and smoke for real-life forests and lakes, and the moody atmosphere is replaced with sheer brutality. Which is not to say the film is not atmospheric or colorful (it’s still a Bava movie, after all) - the best scene in the movie is one of the best of the director’s career, in which the first victim is killed in classic giallo style, by an unknown killer with black gloves. But Bava has the killer remove his gloves and almost immediately reveal his face, only to then be killed in turn by a second mysterious murderer. It’s a fantastic sequence, and a brilliant bit of subversion of the giallo genre… And one which the movie that follows never quite lives up to. Still, it’s quite a lot of fun in its own right, and also incredibly influential amongst the horror genre (the Friday the 13th series stole pretty liberally from this film over the years).  

Rabid Dogs (aka Kidnapped), 1974

    Never released during the director’s lifetime, Rabid Dogs gives us a look at what Bava’s career might have been like had he not devoted so much of it to masked men killing people on smoke-filled soundstages. Here Bava completely eschews the style that made him famous, setting most of the action in a cramped, sweaty car and filming the entire movie on location - most of the shots are handheld and shaky, and Bava pretty much throws the classic framing of his earlier films out the window in favor of a more naturalistic look. Bava himself had a rather low opinion of humanity, and it shows through in every frame of Rabid Dogs, in which a group of bank robbers take a woman, a father and his sick son hostage while on the lam. The film is brutal, disgusting and often uncomfortable to watch, but the fact that Bava refuses to couch any of it in his usual colorful style makes it all the more effective.

Blood and Black Lace, 1964

    With this film, Mario Bava pretty much kick-started the giallo fad that Italian horror filmmakers made almost exclusively during the 60’s and 70’s. All the trappings are there in this story of a corrupt fashion troupe whose models are being picked off one by one: a mysterious killer with black gloves, a running mystery over who said killer is, beautiful women in various states of undress being murdered in increasingly sadistic ways. The film made a mark on everyone from Dario Argento to Martin Scorsese, and its cynical and violent undertones keep the film effective to this day - as does Bava’s unparalleled use of color and shadow.

Lisa and the Devil, 1972

    The first time I sat through Lisa and the Devil, I wasn’t quite sure if I liked it or not. But when the incredible ending happened and the credits rolled, I was absolutely in love. The movie keeps you in the dark for most of its running time, and at times the confusion of what’s actually happening can be rather disorienting. But that was Bava - operating not in terms of logic or natural plot progression, but rather a more dreamy, fluid type of make-it-up-as-you-go storytelling. The ending doesn’t quite make everything that happened before it clear, but Bava gives just enough pieces of the puzzle where the viewer can see how they might all fit together, while still leaving plenty up to the imagination. Bava returns with the starlet of his previous film Baron Blood, Elke Sommer - who also is reunited with her Deadlier Than the Male costar Sylvia Koscina - but the real scene-stealer here is Telly Savalas, playing the sly butler Leandro (who may also be the Devil himself). There’s a lot of creepy elements throughout - none moreso than the life-sized dolls that you’re never really sure are alive or inanimate from scene to scene. The film was famously recut into the far inferior House of Exorcism for international release due to its arty, slow-going nature, but Bava’s original cut is the only one worth viewing.

Kill, Baby… Kill!, 1966

    The death of rationality: it’s what all ghost stories boil down to. It doesn’t matter how many doctors and scientists and other such stalwarts of logic and reason the movie throws into it’s plot - by the end they all will be reduced to superstitious simpletons in the face of whatever ghastly horror presents itself to them. Kill, Baby... Kill! takes this basic premise as a doctor finds himself traveling to an eerie town where the locals are all mysterious and wary of something that lurks the village at night; beckoning it’s victims to kill themselves in fits of madness. It’s not as sensational as some of Bava’s other horror films, but what it lacks in shocks it more than makes up for in atmosphere - never have a bouncing ball or the sound of a little girl giggling been so terrifying. Bava here also predates the “little ghost girl” fad that was so popular in J-horror films (and their American remakes) for a while there.

Black Sunday (aka The Mask of Satan), 1960

    Realizing that Black Sunday was Mario Bava’s first film as a sole-credited director may come as a shock, considering how finely-tuned his skill as a filmmaker was. But no talent comes fully-formed and ready-made for success into the world, as Bava’s prior decades as a cinematographer will attest. His experience aided him greatly here, in possibly the most influential horror film of the 1960’s. By combining the feel of the old Universal Horror films and their racier successors in the offerings from Hammer Films, Bava crafted a superbly atmospheric and creepy story of vampires, reincarnation and doom... And also helped Barbara Steele kick-start her career.

Danger: Diabolik, 1968

    The ultimate in 60’s chic - and indeed, the ultimate comic book movie, for which Bava and his lively style proved perfectly suited for. From the first to the last frame, Danger: Diabolik is a sheer delight of a movie, with images that remain oft-copied and parodied throughout the years: John Philip Law and Marisa Mell rolling around naked on a bed of money, the legendary forced perspective shot of Diabolik’s car pulling into a hidden entryway, etc. And speaking of effects, this is where Bava’s ingenuity really shines through - using matte-paintings and forced perspective to make Diabolik’s lair much larger than it actually is, and leaving enough money in the budget that producer Dino De Laurentiis offered Bava the opportunity to make a sequel (sadly, Bava declined). The film is also notable for pairing Bava with another Italian film legend, Ennio Morricone, who composes one of his best and most energetic scores. It’s a truly amazing movie, as well as one of my absolute favorites… But you probably figured that out by now.    

Black Sabbath, 1963

     Bava combines three different tales for this horror anthology: “The Telephone,” about a call girl who’s terrorized by several threatening phone calls; “The Wurdalak,” about a father who returns home to his family a vampire, and “The Drop of Water,” about a nurse called upon to prepare the corpse of an old woman for her burial, only to then be haunted by her spirit.  Leading this journey into the macabre is horror legend Boris Karloff, who bookends the film as a sort of host, and who also appears in one of the segments. Black Sabbath could be seen as Bava’s ultimate statement on not just horror, but film itself, as the closing scene of Karloff on horseback will attest. Karloff turns to the audience, delivering a monologue, only to have the camera pull back and reveal Karloff riding a fake hobby horse, while wind machines blow his hair and technicians sweep fake branches across his face. That creation of illusion was central to Bava’s work, and indeed what he was most proud of as a filmmaker.

HONORABLE MENTION:

Four Times That Night, 1972

    While not necessarily qualifying as a “good” movie, Bava’s Four Times That Night is far too interesting to not receive some sort of mention. Here the director takes a rather silly sex comedy and refashions it in the mode of Rashomon - the events of a first date told by three different participants/observers in wildly differing variations; holding true to the central theme of how perception and reality shape each other. In the end, the film winds up really not working, due to strange cutaways of a random doctor explaining the thematic content, and also some uncomfortable gender associations. But the fact Bava attempted to do all of this in what amounts to a cheap Eurosex comedy is notable, and his stylistic flourishes make the film very easy to watch.