The Curse of Frankenstein
The film that built Hammer, in blood-red colour the censors hated.
Continental horror built on atmosphere, crumbling architecture and dream logic rather than plot.
Italian, French and Spanish horror from the late 1950s onward, made in castles and cemeteries, where mood carries the film and narrative coherence is optional.
Riccardo Freda's I Vampiri (1957) is usually cited as the first Italian horror film of the sound era. Freda walked off it, and his cinematographer finished the shoot. That cinematographer was Mario Bava.
Bava's own Black Sunday (1960) is the cycle's foundation: Barbara Steele in a dual role, a spiked mask hammered onto a witch's face in the opening minutes, and black-and-white photography that does more with fog and candlelight than most colour horror manages with a budget. Bava lit and shot his own films, and the reason they look the way they do is that he was solving problems as a technician rather than as a stylist.
Jean Rollin made films that barely qualify as narrative. The Nude Vampire (1970), Requiem for a Vampire (1971), Lips of Blood (1975): two women in diaphanous costume walk through a chateau or along a beach at Dieppe, very little happens, and the effect is closer to a dream you half remember than to a horror film. They were commercial failures at the time. They have aged better than almost anything else here.
Impossible to summarise and impossible to leave out. Franco directed something in the region of two hundred films across every category on this site, frequently several at once using the same sets and cast. The quality range is enormous. Vampyros Lesbos (1971) and Succubus (1968) are the ones to try first, and the soundtracks have outlived most of the films.
A castle or chateau. A crypt. A woman in white. A curse with a specific anniversary. Zoom lenses used without restraint. Dubbing in four languages, none of them matching the lips.
Black Sunday for the craft, Requiem for a Vampire for the strangeness.
Two of its key directors have profiles: Jess Franco's films and Jean Rollin.
Two cuts of every film, one for the censor in Madrid and one for the drive-in. Democracy killed the trick in two years.
The graduate course after the giallo: cobwebbed castles and a dead woman who will not stay buried, lit by Bava like nobody since.
The film that built Hammer, in blood-red colour the censors hated.
Bava's debut as director. Barbara Steele and a mask full of spikes.
Argento's sequel to Suspiria. Even less plot, even more colour. A building that is alive.
Three stories, one Karloff. The Wurdulak segment is the best thing Bava shot.
Hammer clocks that the censors have loosened and sends Ingrid Pitt to make the most of it.
Franco's most watchable. The soundtrack outlived the film by decades.
Bava shoots Hades in gel colours. Looks like nothing else in the cycle.
The film that invented the Amicus anthology, dealt out as tarot on a train.
Freda walked off Italy's first sound horror; Bava finished it. The whole euro-gothic shelf starts here.
Four Robert Bloch stories, Cushing and Lee on hand, and barely a drop of the title's blood.
Bava and Christopher Lee doing sadomasochism the censors did not catch.
Bava builds an alien planet out of fog and two rocks, and Alien quietly borrowed the skeleton.
Where the entire Franco machine started. Everything he made for forty years is in here somewhere.
Delphine Seyrig as Bathory in an empty Ostend hotel. Genuinely elegant.
Barbara Steele in a haunted house on a bet. Better than it sounds.
Franco doing the formula early, with Mercedes McCambridge as the warden.
The most hysterical nunsploitation film ever made. A convent, two possessed girls, and constant screaming.
A ghost child with a white ball. Fellini and Scorsese both stole from it.
Spanish Carmilla adaptation with an unusually pointed anger about marriage.
Rollin does an outbreak. A pesticide turns wine-country villagers into oozing killers.
Barbara Steele married to a necrophile surgeon, and Freda smuggling it past the 1962 censors on innuendo alone.
Franco at his dreamiest. Distributors added zombies later without telling him.
A resurrected torturer stalks his own castle. Bava on more commercial autopilot, still gorgeous.
Bava's most personal film, and his strangest. Telly Savalas as the devil, holding a lollipop.