My growing admiration for Mario Bava’s work finds yet another source of wonder in Planet of the Vampires (1965), a film that transcends its modest origins to deliver an atmospheric, visually stunning slice of 1960s sci-fi horror. Though rooted in pulp fiction sensibilities, the film’s eerie mood, bold use of colour, and creative set design elevate it far beyond its budgetary constraints, showcasing Bava’s gift for transforming the ordinary into the otherworldly.

The plot is pure pulp: a crew of space explorers lands on a distant, uncharted planet, only to fall victim to malevolent forces that reanimate the dead, turning them against their comrades. While the premise might not be groundbreaking, it’s the execution that makes Planet of the Vampires stand out. Bava leans heavily into the claustrophobic tension, crafting a nightmare where the dangers are as much psychological as physical. His signature use of shadow and lighting creates an atmosphere drenched in dread, with the fog-shrouded alien landscapes providing a haunting backdrop to the creeping terror.

What makes Planet of the Vampires particularly exciting is how it blends genres. It’s a mash-up of sci-fi adventure and Gothic horror, with clear influences from the pulp magazines of the early 20th century. You can feel the echoes of H.P. Lovecraft’s cosmic horror mixed with the adventure spirit of Flash Gordon. And though the title suggests a vampire movie, the creatures here are something more akin to body-snatching ghouls, lending an eerie twist to the undead motif.

Bava’s influence on later sci-fi horror is undeniable. From the claustrophobic dread to the slow-building paranoia among the crew, Planet of the Vampires laid the groundwork for films like Alien (1979). Even Ridley Scott and writer Dan O’Bannon have acknowledged the film’s impact on their sci-fi masterpiece. The reanimated crew members, stalking their former allies through the dimly lit corridors, predate the chest-bursting Xenomorphs in both style and tension.

The performances, while sometimes stiff, serve the pulpy charm of the film. Barry Sullivan anchors the story as Captain Markary, whose stoic leadership contrasts with the creeping fear overtaking his crew. But it’s not the performances that leave the biggest mark—it’s Bava’s visual style. His use of vibrant colours, from the deep reds and blues to the swirling mists and eerie lighting, makes the alien world feel both dreamlike and menacing. Despite the obvious limitations of the film’s budget, Bava’s ingenuity with special effects and set design makes Planet of the Vampires a testament to his ability to craft immersive, visually striking worlds.

While the film’s pacing can be uneven at times, and its plot falls into some predictable beats, there’s an undeniable charm to its pulpy roots. This is a film that wears its inspirations on its sleeve and revels in them, combining elements of Gothic horror, space adventure, and otherworldly thrills into a uniquely compelling package.

The Prognosis:

Planet of the Vampires is a testament to Mario Bava’s mastery of atmosphere and visual storytelling. It may not reach the heights of his other works like Black Sunday or Blood and Black Lace, but its influence on sci-fi horror and its sheer style makes it a must-watch for fans of the genre. My growing love for Bava’s work only deepens with films like this, which take the limitations of the genre and mold them into something visually captivating, eerily beautiful, and undeniably influential.

  • Saul Muerte