Director Jess Franco churned out an ungodly number of horror and genre films in his long Euro career, many of them pretty awful (e.g., Dracula, Prisoner Of Frankenstein)--and nearly all of those made it to our shores in one way or another.  But a pretty darned good giallo type of horror, basted with skillfully shadowy photography and artful scene composition, that Franco made back in 1962 never hopped the Atlantic to grace US theaters.  Fortunately, for the price of a DVD flick, this "good" Franco shocker is now available to us and we can finally appreciate...

By DAVE DUGGINS

Warning—this article contains plot spoilers.

Before we get started, I have to wish old Renfield, HORROR-WOOD, and all her many fans a belated but happy One Hundredth Issue! I’ve been with you since 1998, and it is my continued honor and pleasure to be in your company. Salud!

Last month I sang the praises of Mill Of The Stone Women, a nifty, somewhat obscure 1960 offering featured in a double DVD release with The Diabolical Dr. Z--a two-pack well worth the investment for the extras alone. For issue 101, I am prouder still to serve up another tasty morsel of early Sixties Euro-Horror that you must make part of your collection: Jess Franco’s The Sadistic Baron Von Klaus.

This one has everything Franco fans demand, and a touch of giallo besides. Although the story is a murder mystery, the mystery is easily solvable by anyone who’s seen an episode of "Murder, She Wrote." Fortunately, that’s not what brings us to the party. The classic Franco elements are all here in spades, and brought on like gangbusters for the Act II finale.

The film as a whole showcases Franco’s increasing mastery of composition, angle, light, shadow and movement. The conventional plot is just the skeleton, fleshed out with classic--and, at times, brilliant--Gothic atmospherics.

My Internet research for this film showed me one thing: people don’t get it. Raised on a steady diet of fifteen-second spots, jag-cuts and murder-every-minute modern horror films, viewers found it slow moving and dull.

My experience is that the pace of these films is perhaps an acquired taste, but one well worth developing. It works particularly well for Franco, who revels in leading you sleepily into the dark, falsely secure, only to turn the lights on and leave you stranded in a room filled with monsters.

In Franco’s world, the monsters all look like you.

I’ve said it before: I have nothing against modern horror films. Many in recent years are deeply disturbing, compelling and intense in ways not even European horror can match. These films are connected with our times, rooted in the fears of a multicultural, disconnected, alienated mass audience. The concerns and fears of forty years ago were very different creatures, but the essential freedom of horror lies in its use of symbols--and symbols are universal.

Fear, in any context, any language, any culture, is understandable. If you understand the symbol, you empathize. So any of us, with a little associative effort, should be able to make the leap, for an hour and a half or so, and speak Franco’s language.

Since we’re on the subject of language, these films--Dr. Orloff’s Monster, The Diabolical Dr. Z and The Sadistic Baron Von Klaus--are all a mishmash of European influences, shot in Spain or Holland or Germany, set in locations thousands of miles from their actual shooting locations, and dubbed in French. Perversely, the films benefit from this rather than suffer because of it.

Perversity is what The Sadistic Baron Von Klaus is all about. The original Baron Von Klaus, a Seventeenth century Marquis De Sade-inspired piece of work, routinely tortured and killed women during his reign. His bloodline continues into present day, and a new Baron Von Klaus tenants the family chateau.

So we wonder. Is cruelty genetic? Will the new Von Klaus follow in the footsteps of his evil ancestor?

We hear the story of the original Baron Von Klaus--the one who ruled five hundred years ago--as a story told to Dr. Kallman (Angel Menendez), who happens to be in town researching the supernatural for a series of articles he’s writing. Hanzel and Theo, who are a sort of Greek chorus thoughout the story, tell the good doctor that the original Von Klaus was a depraved, sadistic man known for his torture and butchery of women. Lost in the swampy hinterland surrounding his castle, the Baron died--but evil is restless, and his spirit still haunts the swamps.

Good story, right? Just a story. Stories like that are always easier to disregard after the sun comes up.

But when the sun comes up, Hanzel and Theo discover another girl, tortured before she was murdered. It seems the Von Klaus curse lives on.

The murder piques the interest of two men who often find themselves pounding the same pavement. Karl Steiner (Fernando Delgado), a journalist writing for Maidens and Murderers magazine, is sent on assignment to cover the case. Karl meets Commissioner Borowski (Georges Rollin), a homicide detective, at the murder scene. Their relationship is one of the most enjoyable aspects of the film. They obviously have history together, and needle each other constantly, like brothers.

Karl suggests to Borowski that he should interview people at the crime scene, as criminals often revisit after the act.

"The next exam to join the police force is three months from now," Borowski tells him. "You should take it."

"In October, the exams to become a journalist begin," Karl replies with a grin. "I suggest you don’t take them." Delgado and Rollin have genuine chemistry, making their scenes together authentic and believable.

Borowski, the hardheaded realist, believes in what he can prove. Karl wonders if it might actually be the persistent spirit of the original Van Klaus. The two prime suspects, the current Baron and his nephew, both have alibis.

Ludwig Von Klaus (Hugo Blanco, the reanimated corpse in Dr. Orloff‘s Monster), the prodigal son, comes home happy and carefree, having been motoring all over Europe, presumably. It’s his final happy moment. Things go rapidly south for poor Ludwig, who discovers his mother on her deathbed. She makes a confession--a dreadful family secret for which Ludwig must now assume responsibility.

All the stories about the Baron were true, she tells him. He did horrible things. A murderer. A torturer. And that blood flows through Ludwig’s veins. Mother directs Ludwig to a hidden key that opens the doors to Von Klaus’ cellar torture chamber. The truth, she says, can be found there. She instructs him to destroy the place. Bury it. Bury it forever, and silence the lingering, whispering voice of the original Von Klaus.

Hugo Blanco does a superlative job of appearing utterly miserable and conflicted through the rest of the film. Franco likes his protagonists dark, unheroic, haunted, and ultimately irredeemable in life. Ludwig is clearly doomed. Even the most casual viewer of horror can see what’s coming for miles, but knowing it’s going to end badly just makes us want to see it all the more--first-hand, every bump and pothole in every mile of that bad road. That is the promise of the setup in Act I, and Franco does not disappoint.

As the investigation continues, Dr. Kallman puts in his two cents’ worth, profiling the killer. He rapes his victims, tortures them. He enjoys the killing and wants to do it again. On the surface, he may seem very charming and normal. Of course, the fact that the good doctor knows all this also makes him a suspect--but I wasn’t fooled, and I suspect those of you with some mystery mileage won’t have been either.

So, first, the Baron himself (The Diabolical Dr. Z’s Howard Vernon). We establish with him sitting in vigil over his mother’s body. He looks left of frame, toward his mother’s face, while his portrait, in frame to his right, stares off in the opposite direction. The shot is both funny and creepy, and acts as one bookend in a sequence that ends with a similarly startling and disturbing shot.

We pull back to see this is a family thing, with Ludwig and his fiancée, Karine (Paula Martel), also in attendance. Ludwig leads Karine to her room, comforts her, and returns to the chamber. Now we see the Baron again, hands covering most of his face, one eye staring balefully out. This image was sufficiently powerful to warrant its inclusion as the title graphic for the DVD menu.

Ludwig visits the basement torture chamber that is his legacy. He lights the candles, makes himself at home, reading his ancestor’s journal. "The tragic eroticism of all the senses, finally ending in death." No question, then, that the Baron was into some weirdness.

Upstairs, Karine tries to sleep. She becomes convinced that she can hear footsteps in the room. The sound of the clock’s ticking becomes magnified, a counterpoint to the footsteps of her unseen visitor. Sound builds upon sound, until, completely unnerved, she bolts - and runs right into the Baron, who glowers at her menacingly until she returns upstairs.

A likely perpetrator of recent murder? Perhaps. But a little too obvious, which in the world of the giallo means he serves to misdirect. We cut from this to the other red herring, Dr. Kallman, flirting with a torch singer dressed in black. They arrange to meet for lunch the next day, but lunch never happens. We follow the girl to a hotel room, where she meets her lover. In a brilliant set piece, we see their hands come together behind his back. His gloved fingers tighten around hers--a little too tightly--and, just like that, we know he’s the killer.

Even if you’re not familiar with the tropes of the giallo, which features killers in silhouette, wearing gloves and fedoras, you’ll know just from the composition of the shot. Film at its best is purely visual communication, and this scene plays beautifully with minimal audio on the soundtrack.

We never see the killer’s face, but we know he was a man she trusted.

Commissioner Borowksi tries out a bunch of leads that get him nowhere. Meanwhile, Karl decides to give him a hand by breaking into the castle and stealing a key piece of physical evidence in the form of a cane described by a witness. The cane, along with the discovery of the latest victim’s body, implicates the Baron strongly enough to warrant arrest.

The scene following Max’s arrest is the most powerful and poignant in the film. Ludwig visits Karine, telling her how he is haunted by these stories of the Van Klaus family line, his own twisted ancestry. For anyone who was left behind up to this point, the scene makes it amply clear that Ludwig is a) crazy and b) the killer. He rambles, makes paranoid accusations and recants moments later, and allows Karine’s delusional fantasy in which he is a celebrated pianist with a perfect wife, a perfect life. It’s a lie. A beautiful lie, but still a lie.

Hugo Blanco really pours it on, delivering a wonderfully over-the-top performance, rejecting his one shot at redemption and leading us into the pivotal and disturbing events that end Act II.

Beautiful bar owner Linda (Ana Castor) seems inordinately upset by the news of Max’s arrest. With Max wrongly imprisoned, Linda finally comes forward to admit that she has been his lover for some time, and that he could not have been the killer, as they were together the night of the murder.

Later, in her room, she is attacked. This time the killer is foiled by Dr. Kallman, who sounds the alarm. The killer escapes and is chased into a wooded cemetery by Karl and the men of the township. This sequence, with its pursuit through city streets into a wooded cemetery on the outskirts, is vintage Franco--the long shadows of the killer and his pursuers on the cobblestone streets, the crazy camera angles, a James Whale-inspired mob of torch-wielding villagers and the concluding visual--a shot of the Van Klaus crypt as Karl examines it. Franco exploits these powerful, archetypal images to best possible effect.

Following Linda’s confession, Max is released. They share a simple, understated scene outside the prison. "Why did you do that?" Max asks Linda. "You’re the most important thing in the world to me," she says. They walk off together, his arm around her, just any couple in any city enjoying the day and each other’s company. Franco does not deal in romantic images very often. They are all the more effective for their rarity.

Max’s name is cleared, the main subplot resolved and the way prepared for the dark downhill slide into Act III. Margaret (Gogo Rojo) leaves the pub, informing Linda and Dr. Kallman that she is not going home alone. As soon as she leaves, we know what’s coming. She’s walking straight into the arms of the killer. Ludwig Von Klaus completes his transformation into the dark and twisted shade of his namesake. He chloroforms Margaret, taking her back to the castle dungeon.

What follows is the stuff of cinema legend, the kind of scene that is talked about, passed back and forth excitedly between fans. It’s powerful, disturbing stuff, particularly for its time. It’s a heady mix of sex, desire, rage, pleasure and pain, the enjoyment Margaret seems to derive from he terrible things Ludwig is doing to her. That blurred line between pleasure and pain is as powerful a theme today as then, explored most recently in Eli Roth’s Hostel and David Cronenberg’s A History of Violence, two films with very different approaches to the topic.

Karl, who suspected Max’s innocence, confronts Karine with what he knows--that Ludwig is actually the killer. They devise a plan to apprehend him, but Ludwig overhears. He takes Karine out to the swamps, where he intends to kill her. She escapes, running back to the road. Max is killed in an attempted rescue. Ludwig returns to the swamp, to the beckoning voice of his master, the original Von Klaus. He sinks into the bog, his last word "Karine!" shouted into an uncaring sky, hand clutching at some salvation, forever out of reach.

The Sadistic Baron Von Klaus is a story of redemption, albeit a very downbeat one. Ludwig’s single heroic act is to destroy the evil that would doubtless kill more women. This can only be accomplished through his own death--the one redemptive choice left to him.

Thanks, Dave.  The Sadistic Baron Von Klaus is a shock film that Franco should have been recognized for here, and would have been, had it obtained a US release (where was the usually reliable Richard Gordon for distribution?).  It's an early version of the giallo film with stylishly rendered black-and- white photography, outré characters, a dash of sado-masochism (daring for its time), some fetish spice (nearly all the women wear black nylons and garter belts, etc.)...and overall, a much more finished and comprehensible production than the later "pyscho- delic" films that Franco would become best known for.   Fortunately, thanks to DVD, we can now give the film the kudos it deserves.

Article copyright © Dave Duggins

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