Do you like a little sleaze and cheesecake to go with your bloodsucking? If so, you don't have to go rent the latest R-rated schlock. Instead, opt for this classic old black-and-white flick that offers...
By RUSS PIETROWSKI L’ Ultima Preda Del Vampiro, released in the US as The Playgirls And The Vampire, also as Curse of the Vampire. Italy, 1960; U.S. Release: 1963; Black and White; Director: Piero Regnoli The Story: A troupe of five burlesque beauties and their manager take shelter at the Castle Kernassy. They are told to stay in their rooms for the night; however Katia wanders the halls looking for a place to take a shower, and is found dead the next morning, the victim of a vampire. During the following night, Katia appears in the room of the dance troupes manager, Lucas--she is completely nude and displays an impressive set of fangs.
It seems the Count Kernassy, has a twin ancestor who is the vampire, and believes one of the other girls, Vera, is a centuries-old lost love. In a confrontation between Katia and the vampire Kernassy, Katia is brutally staked, streams of blood pouring down her shapely legs. The Count then confronts the vampire over the girl, and during the fight, the Count releases a curtain letting in the sunlight, driving the vampire back and impaling him on a iron spear. The vampire disintegrates as he reverts to dust, and the remainder of the troupe leaves the castle all as better people for the experience. Playgirls? Vampires? The opening scene of this film is shot in a classic Gothic style, the camera panning down from the crypt window to a tomb opening, and a hand (presumably Walter Brandi’s) crawling out. The credits play over the scene as the camera pans upward and settles on a shield with a large ‘K’ painted on it. Within five seconds after this wonderful scene, the entire theme and purpose of the film is revealed, as Regnoli’s camera (slowly mind you) pans Maria Giovannini feeling up her legs and smooth her sheer nylon stockings. The Playgirls And The Vampire is one of the Icons from out age of Italian Horror, where the word "Horror" doesn’t quite reach that summit. However, it is a campy classic with all the sleaze-cheese and dip you can handle. The character of Katia (is this Italy?) played by the vivacious Maria Giovannini appears as the first completely nude vampire on film. Her nudity is a full two-second frontal shot displaying, briefly, a pair of fangs and a pair of other feminine niceties. Although Giovannini is not the central character in this turgid romantic tale, one wonders why our genetic engineers haven’t considered cloning Italian actresses rather than sheep. Science needs to reassess its priorities.
This daring nude scene (daring for its time, that is) is less frightening than it is sensually exciting. I don’t know what it is, but place a pair of fangs in a gorgeous female (nude helps) and instant rapt attention--albeit fantasy with the dark powers of serious whoopee--seems to permeate every male (and some female) mind that I know. Go vamp, you never leave camp (sorry!). The trailer of this film reads "An unusual story of unnatural love and desire…So bold, so shocking, it must be shown to—ADULTS ONLY." It isn’t half that bad in some respects, but is all that bad in others. The only thing missing from this cheesy film is the wine. However, cutting through the abundance of palatable (and pulchritudinal) curd, there is something of a story theme on a timeless romance. This is another Walter Brandi film, where our stalwart attore plays a double role--as the sensitive but tough guy Count Kernassy, and his equally but not so sensitive twin relative, the vampire. Brandi, as in his other films (Vampire And The Ballerina, Slaughter Of The Vampires which I reviewed last issue) seems to take his roles seriously like an attore should. He knows when to show concern or to brood romantically, to fight for a young playgirl’s life like a hero, or to suck the blood of his luscious victims with gusto. Of course, this is where any semblance of serious acting comes to a halt. What we are subjected to is a burlesque show with a dark romance woven around it. It one scene, the Playgirls (as they shall be referred to collectively from now on) are suppose to be practicing a dance step. Their little bald manager with the long nose is trying to drum up some enthusiasm. The viewer will notice that each Playgirl is doing her own thing, void of any collective rhythm or uniformity. Each Playgirl listlessly squirms and weaves about as though ground zeroed by too much Motrin. As this talentless display stumbles on, one of the girls says something to the piano player, Frank--and then begins one of the hottest strip teases on mainstream film. The piano player tickles the ivories into a rendition of classic Chicago blues as the dancer looks into the viewer's eyes and curvaceously shimmies like a platinum blond Sophia Loren made out of Jell-O. She almost strips down to bare bones, and this cheesy footage is one of the high points in the film. One thing that absolutely remains in focus throughout the film is that the film is about Playgirls--and that there’s a vampire, somewhere. One other unforgettable scene that cannot pass without comment is Katia’s birthday suit walk-on while manager Lucas is in his bed having cuddle fantasies over an issue of Frolic magazine, a girlie rag from the 1950’s--use your imagination here.
This goofball scene is the classic nudist shot so "shockingly " touted that "it must be seen by Adults Only" (underline that). The naked Playgirl vampire doesn’t even bite this pagliaccio's scrawny neck; instead, he faints in bed under his copy of Frolic with an expression on his face of a man going blind by his own hand. The tall and statuesque Lyla Rocco, who is subjected to one of Brandi’s graphic neck bitings and becomes the focus of the vampire’s lust, plays the heroine, Vera. She indeed has a lovely neck to bite, although Veronica Carlson (Dracula Has Risen From The Grave) still has the sexiest neck in vampire films. There is considerable footage devoted to Vera, as she wonders about the castle grounds after dark or through shadowy hallways in her nightgown, meeting and conversing with the Count. These scenes serve to generally pad out the film while attempting to add depth to the story. The actress playing Vera, Lyla Rocco, gives a fair performance portraying the confused and other-worldly heroine, drawn by the strange fascination of the castle and the Count, as if she is the reincarnated soul of one of its previous ancestors. As Brandi’s female lead, she displays more moods of shadow and melancholy that any sense of joy, levity, or relief at rescue from harm. Poor Lyla's character in this film never once has a scene worthy of her pearly smile. Deep in the bowels of Brandi’s castle, the count works on a "cure" for his twin ancestor’s vampirism, using what looks like one of those Sears Roebuck chemistry sets my parents once bought me for Christmas (with which I promptly stank up the house with a sulfur bomb). It is interesting to observe that in many of these Italian vampire films vampirism is treated as a disease--sort of like catching the flu after a large chunk of flesh has been torn out of your neck. There is always some attempt to explain the vampiric condition through science, to add some authenticity to the story and thus detract from moments of silliness.
Walter Brandi gets to fight himself in the castle crypt at the climax of the film while saving Lyla Rocco from the Count's evil vampire twin. The neck-biter refuses a cure for his vampirism and a good fight sequence ensues; the advent of morning finally undoing the vampire. He is driven back by the dawn's early light and into a sharp spike protruding from the Kernassy coat of arms. When the vampire is finally dispatched, some of the corniest effects are used to illustrate his dissolving after being impaled. Brandi’s sorry skull looks like something from Tim Burton's The Nightmare Before Christmas. This film boasts lines like "Look at that table, will you? I wonder if they’ll let me do a high kick specialty on it," or "She wasn’t the most intelligent girl I ever met." Remember, this movie is about Playgirls! The dubbing effort was a worthy attempt, although mouths move in different rhythms to the sounds coming out of them. At least they don’t keep moving after the dialogue stops. The film was released in the U.S. in 1963, amazingly with its strip tease and nude scenes kept intact. Playgirls And The Vampire was eventually edited down for television, and then remained on the shelf for over three decades. This cheesy delight is now a classic collector’s item from a bygone age, and is a lot of fun to view. Recommended for the above reasons as pure entertainment. The Italian horror films of the mid-fifties and early sixties spawned a genre in their own, with eroticism, excellent cinematography, innovative directing, striking imagery, and moody but beautifully haunting music. True, there was a "cheap thrills " element to these films like Playgirls and the Vampire, obviously targeting adults as the audience, but these films were originally made in Europe for adults, whereas at the same time horror films in America were primarily produced and distributed for younger, less sophisticated audiences. This is an interesting period of horror cinema for the collector, and has a lot more class then it sounds. Playgirls and the Vampire does not reach a plateau worthy of Bava or even Franco, but for this sub-genre of European horror, it still remains a classic. Thanks, Russ, for dragging this "shocking" vampire flick out into the open. It proves that the Italians had already gone in the Sixties where England's Hammer Films feared to tread until the Seventies. Cheers! Article copyright Russ Pietrowski |
