Tag Archives: barbara steele

Shivers (1975) – Cronenberg’s Parasites of Paranoia

26 Friday Sep 2025

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Being terrified is just the beginning!

Fifty years on, David Cronenberg’s Shivers still crawls under the skin with its unnerving mix of clinical detachment and raw, bodily horror. Long before he became a household name with The Fly or Videodrome, Cronenberg was already sketching out the blueprint for what would define his career: a fascination with the fragility of the body, the corruption of the mind, and the terrifyingly thin barrier between civilized society and primal chaos.

Set in a sterile, luxury apartment complex on the outskirts of Montreal, the film wastes no time in subverting its backdrop. The sleek modernity of Starliner Towers becomes the perfect incubator for dread when a strain of parasites begins infecting its residents. What starts as a medical curiosity spirals into an epidemic of violent, lust-fueled mania, leaving Dr. Roger St. Luc (Paul Hampton) desperately trying to contain the outbreak before it spills into the wider city.

Seen today, Shivers is more than just a scrappy feature—it’s a disturbing excavation of suburban sanity itself. Cronenberg peels back the polished façade of modern living to expose the harrowing paranoia festering beneath. The parasites aren’t just creatures; they’re symbols of desire, repression, and contagion, spreading through the building like gossip at a cocktail party, reminding us how easily fear and panic can travel.

While the low budget occasionally betrays its ambition, the rough edges only enhance the sense of unease. This is Cronenberg at his most raw and uncompromising, testing boundaries that would echo across his career. From here, he would refine his obsessions into the sleek terror of Scanners, the grotesque intimacy of The Fly, and the icy eroticism of Crash. But in Shivers, we see the first burst of infection—the moment body horror and social commentary fused into something unshakably his own.

The Prognosis:

Shivers hasn’t lost its bite. It’s grim, it’s uncomfortable, and it’s as relevant as ever in a world still haunted by viral outbreaks and communal fear. Cronenberg reminds us that the real horror doesn’t just come from outside—it festers within, waiting patiently to consume us all, one by one.

  • Saul Muerte

Curse of the Crimson Altar (1968) – A Star-Studded but Stumbling Occult

21 Friday Mar 2025

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By the late 1960s, British horror was riding the wave of gothic indulgence, and Curse of the Crimson Altar (also known as The Crimson Cult) fit right into that mold—on paper, at least. Featuring an enviable cast of horror icons, including Boris Karloff, Christopher Lee, and Barbara Steele, the film promises an eerie descent into black magic, secret rituals, and sinister family secrets. However, despite its intriguing setup and legendary names, Vernon Sewell’s film struggles to leave a lasting impression, failing to weave its disparate elements into something truly chilling.

The story follows Robert Manning (Mark Eden), who arrives at a countryside estate in search of his missing brother. Greeted warmly by his host Morley (Christopher Lee) and drawn in by his flirtatious niece Eve (Virginia Wetherell), Manning soon realises that something sinister lurks beneath the surface. At the heart of the mystery is Lavinia Morley (Barbara Steele), the legendary Black Witch of Greymarsh, whose influence still seems to haunt the house. Boris Karloff, in one of his final roles, plays Professor Marsh, adding a layer of authority to the film’s occult themes.

While the premise suggests a brooding supernatural thriller, Curse of the Crimson Altar never quite capitalises on its potential. The film’s pacing is uneven, bogged down by awkward tonal shifts and a reliance on hallucinatory dream sequences that, while visually interesting, fail to generate true suspense. The script meanders between traditional gothic horror and psychedelic surrealism, yet never fully commits to either. Some moments feel inspired—particularly the ritualistic scenes featuring Steele’s striking presence—but the film lacks a cohesive narrative drive.

That’s not to say there aren’t pleasures to be found. Karloff, despite his declining health, delivers a dignified performance, and Lee once again exudes effortless menace, even if his role is underwritten. The gothic atmosphere is well-crafted, and the concept of a lingering ancestral curse is one with rich potential. Unfortunately, the execution is middling, leaving Curse of the Crimson Altar feeling like a missed opportunity. As a late-era gothic horror, it’s worth a watch for genre completists, but it ultimately fails to cast a truly lasting spell.

  • Saul Muerte

An Angel for Satan (1966): Barbara Steele’s Gothic Allure Fades but Still Flickers

19 Saturday Oct 2024

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In the grand tradition of Italian horror cinema, An Angel for Satan (1966) marks one of the final films that harnessed the enigmatic presence of Barbara Steele, the British actress who became the face of Italian Gothic horror. Directed by Camillo Mastrocinque, this atmospheric piece takes its place as a late entry in the wave of eerie Italian cinema that made Steele a genre icon, but by this point, the formula that worked so well for her earlier roles begins to lose its potency.

Set in a small Italian village, An Angel for Satan tells the story of a cursed statue of a woman, believed to bring death and misfortune to those around her. Steele plays the dual roles of Harriet, a tormented woman who bears a striking resemblance to the statue, and Belinda, the mysterious figure carved in stone. The film delves into the psychological and supernatural consequences of Harriet’s strange connection to the sculpture, bringing the villagers to the brink of madness. The narrative unfolds with the traditional eerie ambiance found in Italian Gothic horror, with heavy doses of intrigue, paranoia, and unsettling sexuality.

As with most of her performances, Steele excels in evoking an eerie, almost hypnotic presence, playing the duality of her character with sophistication. Her signature intensity radiates through Harriet, who teeters on the edge of sanity, and her portrayal of the statue’s spirit, which teems with malice, is mesmerising. However, while Steele’s magnetic presence is undeniable, it can’t quite elevate the film above its derivative structure. By 1966, Italian horror had begun to lean too heavily on the tried-and-true formula of brooding castles, fog-drenched lakes, and tragic female leads. An Angel for Satan, though stylish in moments, feels like a fading echo of Steele’s earlier, more impactful films like Black Sunday (1960).

Visually, Mastrocinque does deliver the kind of atmospheric setting one would expect from Italian horror of the period, with a haunting score and meticulously crafted gothic backdrops. However, there is a sense that the creative energy that fueled Italian horror in the early 1960s was waning. The plot, while containing some interesting twists, lacks the bite and urgency needed to make it truly memorable. The pacing drags in places, and despite its supernatural elements, it feels too familiar—relying on themes and tropes that had been done with greater finesse earlier in the decade.

Barbara Steele’s star power undoubtedly shines through, but in An Angel for Satan, it’s a flicker rather than a flame. By the mid-60s, Steele had become synonymous with Italian horror, and while she continued to be cast in leading roles, the material she was given often struggled to match her talent. Her allure here, though still present, feels tethered to a genre in transition—no longer fresh, but not yet ready to fully evolve into something new, as the giallo era was just around the corner.

An Angel for Satan is a curio for fans of Italian Gothic horror and essential viewing for devotees of Barbara Steele, but it’s also a sign of the inevitable decline of the Gothic style that had made her a star. While not without its moments of eerie brilliance, the film is more of a swan song for a fading era in Italian horror—a period where Steele’s reign was still potent but undeniably starting to wane.

While An Angel for Satan is not without merit, it ultimately serves as a reminder that the Gothic Italian horror genre was ready for a change, and so, too, was its leading lady.

  • Saul Muerte

Nightmare Castle (1965) – A Gothic Tale Drenched in Atmosphere but Lacking in Bite

19 Thursday Sep 2024

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Nightmare Castle (Amanti d’oltretomba), released in 1965, is a curious entry in the Italian Gothic horror canon. Directed by Mario Caiano, the film is best remembered for its haunting atmosphere and the hypnotic performance of Barbara Steele, a cult horror icon. However, despite these strengths, the film struggles to rise above its predictable narrative and uneven pacing, leaving it as a middling affair that teeters between camp and genuine menace.

At its heart, Nightmare Castle is a classic tale of revenge from beyond the grave, a trope that was well-worn even by the mid-1960s. The story centers on the sadistic Dr. Stephen Arrowsmith (Paul Muller), who, upon discovering his wife Muriel (Barbara Steele) is having an affair with the gardener, exacts a brutal form of vengeance by torturing them both to death. But as is tradition in Gothic horror, death is only the beginning. Muriel’s ghost returns to torment the living, while her heartless husband schemes to inherit her fortune by marrying her look-alike stepsister, Jenny (also played by Steele).

What Nightmare Castle excels at is atmosphere. The film is drenched in Gothic style, with its gloomy castle setting, cobwebbed corridors, and macabre experiments that feel right at home in the genre. Caiano’s direction is deliberate, crafting a slow-burn tension through shadowy cinematography and eerie set pieces. The film’s black-and-white visuals are striking, often elevating otherwise flat moments into something more sinister. Combined with Ennio Morricone’s haunting score, these elements create a mood of dread that permeates throughout the film, even when the plot falters.

The real standout of Nightmare Castle is Barbara Steele, whose dual role as Muriel and Jenny showcases her range. Steele, known for her piercing gaze and ethereal presence, is magnetic on screen, embodying both the vengeful ghost and the innocent victim with equal conviction. Her performance is the film’s emotional core, and without her, the movie would likely have faded into obscurity. There’s something captivating about Steele’s ability to straddle the line between fragility and fury, making her a perfect fit for the Gothic horror aesthetic.

Unfortunately, the rest of the film doesn’t quite live up to Steele’s performance. The plot is predictable, following well-worn Gothic horror beats with little innovation. Dr. Arrowsmith’s evil deeds are cartoonish at times, and while Muller gives a decent performance as the unhinged scientist, his character lacks depth or nuance. The pacing is also uneven, with stretches of the film dragging as it rehashes familiar tropes, particularly in the second act, where it loses momentum before gearing up for the supernatural climax.

What prevents Nightmare Castle from being more than a middling affair is its reliance on Gothic clichés without adding much substance to them. The narrative is thin, and while the film is visually engaging, it rarely delves into the psychological terror that could have elevated it. The film borrows heavily from earlier, more successful Gothic horrors, such as Mario Bava’s Black Sunday (1960), which also starred Steele. However, Nightmare Castle lacks the same level of narrative intricacy or directorial flair that made Black Sunday a classic.

Despite these flaws, Nightmare Castle has gained a certain charm over time, largely due to its Gothic visuals and Steele’s performance. It embodies many of the hallmarks of mid-century Italian horror, with its moody, dreamlike atmosphere and grotesque elements. The film’s themes of betrayal, madness, and revenge are all here, though they’re presented in a somewhat surface-level way. Still, there’s a nostalgic appeal to the film for fans of the genre, who may appreciate its visual style and the presence of Steele, even if the story itself feels formulaic.

The Prognosis:

Nightmare Castle is a film that Gothic horror enthusiasts will likely enjoy for its atmosphere and Steele’s hypnotic presence. However, its predictable plot, uneven pacing, and reliance on familiar tropes prevent it from achieving greatness. While it’s not a bad film, it’s also not a particularly memorable one, leaving it as a middling entry in the annals of 1960s Italian horror cinema. For those who love the genre, it’s worth a watch—but don’t expect it to haunt your nightmares.

  • Saul Muerte

Gothic Gloom with a Glimmer: Barbara Steele Shines in the Shadowy Terror Creatures From the Grave (1965)

06 Friday Sep 2024

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In the annals of 1960s Italian horror, Terror Creatures From the Grave (1965) stands as a lesser-known but intriguing entry that showcases the genre’s atmospheric strengths while grappling with its narrative shortcomings. Directed by Massimo Pupillo (under the pseudonym Ralph Zucker), the film leans heavily on the eerie charm of its leading lady, Barbara Steele, whose presence alone elevates what might otherwise be a forgettable B-movie into something more memorable.

The film’s plot revolves around a lawyer, played by Walter Brandi, who is summoned to a decaying estate to settle the affairs of a recently deceased man. However, the story quickly descends into a gothic nightmare as the restless spirits of plague victims are unleashed, seeking vengeance on those who wronged them. While the setup is ripe with potential for terror, the execution falls short, hampered by a convoluted script and pacing that drags in key moments.

What Terror Creatures From the Grave lacks in coherent storytelling, it attempts to make up for with its unsettling atmosphere. The film is awash in the gloomy aesthetics that Italian horror was becoming known for—fog-shrouded cemeteries, crumbling mansions, and an omnipresent sense of doom. Yet, these elements feel more like a collage of genre staples rather than a cohesive vision, leaving the viewer with the impression that the film is more style than substance.

Barbara Steele, by this point already a recognized face in the horror genre, carries the film with her haunting beauty and enigmatic screen presence. Her role as the mysterious Cleo Hauff is one of the film’s saving graces, as she effortlessly embodies the duality of allure and menace that Italian horror so often explores. Despite the film’s shortcomings, Steele’s performance adds a layer of intrigue that keeps the audience engaged, even as the plot meanders.

By the mid-1960s, Italian horror was beginning to carve out a niche for itself, with directors like Mario Bava leading the charge. Terror Creatures From the Grave is a testament to the growing influence of Italian cinema on the horror genre, even if it doesn’t reach the heights of its contemporaries. The film’s reliance on gothic horror tropes, combined with the increasing prominence of supernatural elements, reflects the genre’s evolution during this period.

The Prognosis:

Terror Creatures From the Grave is a film that will likely appeal more to die-hard fans of Barbara Steele and Italian horror completists than to the casual viewer. Its atmosphere and Steele’s performance are worth noting, but the film’s overall mediocrity prevents it from being a standout in the genre. As Italian horror continued to rise throughout the 1960s, this film serves as a reminder that not every entry can be a classic, but even the lesser-known titles contribute to the rich tapestry of the genre.

  • Saul Muerte

1960s Retrospective: The Ghost (1963)

05 Friday Jul 2024

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“The Ghost“ (1963), directed by Riccardo Freda, stands as a significant entry in the annals of gothic horror, both for its atmospheric storytelling and for the continued rise of its star, Barbara Steele. Known for her unique ability to embody both vulnerability and malevolence, Steele’s performance in “The Ghost” cements her status as a queen of the genre. This film also serves as a testament to Freda’s directorial prowess and his attempts to reimagine the psychological intensity of Henri-Georges Clouzot’s “Les Diaboliques” within the framework of Italian horror cinema.

By 1963, Barbara Steele had already made a name for herself with her iconic roles in films like “Black Sunday” (1960). In “The Ghost,” she continues to captivate audiences with her magnetic screen presence and nuanced performance. Steele plays Margaret Hichcock, a woman entangled in a web of deceit and murder as she plots with her lover to kill her husband, Dr. John Hichcock, portrayed by Elio Jotta. Her ability to convey a complex mix of desperation, cunning, and vulnerability adds layers to the character, making Margaret a compelling and unforgettable figure in horror cinema.

Steele’s performance is a masterclass in gothic horror acting. Her expressive eyes and intense on-screen presence create a palpable sense of dread and anticipation. As she navigates the treacherous landscape of guilt and fear, Steele demonstrates why she became a defining figure in the genre, her legacy enduring through decades of horror cinema.

Riccardo Freda, a pioneer of Italian genre cinema, brings his distinct style and vision to “The Ghost.” Known for his ability to blend gothic elements with psychological horror, Freda creates an atmosphere that is both eerie and suspenseful. His meticulous attention to detail in the film’s set design, lighting, and cinematography enhances the haunting mood, enveloping viewers in a world of shadows and secrets.

Freda’s direction is characterized by his skillful use of pacing and tension. He allows the story to unfold gradually, building suspense through carefully crafted scenes that keep the audience on edge. This methodical approach is reminiscent of “Les Diaboliques,” with its slow-burning tension and psychological complexity. Freda’s ability to evoke a sense of unease and impending doom showcases his mastery of the horror genre and cements his place as a significant figure in Italian cinema.

“The Ghost” draws clear inspiration from Clouzot’s “Les Diaboliques,” a film renowned for its psychological depth and shocking twists. Freda’s adaptation, while rooted in gothic horror, retains the essence of Clouzot’s narrative style, focusing on betrayal, murder, and the unraveling of the human psyche. The plot’s intricate twists and turns, combined with Steele’s captivating performance, echo the tension and suspense that made “Les Diaboliques” a classic.

However, Freda infuses “The Ghost” with his unique touch, incorporating elements of supernatural horror that distinguish it from its predecessor. The eerie mansion, spectral apparitions, and dark rituals add a layer of gothic mystique, blending psychological horror with the supernatural. This fusion creates a distinctive atmosphere that sets “The Ghost” apart, offering a fresh take on the themes explored in “Les Diaboliques.”

“The Ghost” (1963) remains a pivotal film in the evolution of gothic horror, showcasing the talents of Barbara Steele and Riccardo Freda. Steele’s performance solidifies her status as a horror icon, while Freda’s direction and homage to “Les Diaboliques” highlight his ability to blend psychological and supernatural horror seamlessly. Together, they create a film that is both a tribute to and a reimagining of classic horror elements, leaving a lasting impact on the genre and continuing to captivate audiences with its atmospheric storytelling and chilling suspense.

  • Saul Muerte

1960s Retrospective: The Horrible Dr Hichcock

20 Thursday Jun 2024

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Riccardo Freda’s The Horrible Dr. Hichcock remains a fascinating entry in the annals of gothic horror, showcasing both the directorial prowess of Freda and the magnetic screen presence of Barbara Steele. Released in 1962, this Italian horror classic continues to captivate audiences with its atmospheric storytelling and macabre themes.

At the heart of the film is the enigmatic Barbara Steele, whose portrayal of Cynthia Hichcock is nothing short of mesmerizing. Steele, already an icon of the genre, brings a haunting allure to the role, her expressive eyes and ethereal beauty perfectly embodying the gothic sensibilities of the film. Her performance is both chilling and captivating, lending a palpable sense of dread to the narrative. Steele’s ability to convey vulnerability and strength in equal measure makes her character a compelling focal point amid the eerie happenings of Dr. Hichcock’s world.

Riccardo Freda, a pioneer of Italian horror, directs with a masterful hand, blending gothic horror with psychological intrigue. Freda’s direction is marked by his adept use of shadows and lighting, creating an oppressive and haunting atmosphere that permeates every frame. The film’s setting—a grand, decaying mansion—serves as a perfect backdrop for the unsettling events that unfold, enhancing the sense of claustrophobic dread.

Freda’s storytelling is deliberate and atmospheric, relying on the power of suggestion rather than overt gore. This approach heightens the suspense, drawing viewers into a world where the line between life and death is disturbingly blurred. The director’s penchant for exploring dark, taboo subjects, such as necrophilia, adds a layer of psychological horror that is both disturbing and thought-provoking.

The narrative revolves around Dr. Bernard Hichcock, a surgeon with a morbid obsession that drives the plot into increasingly dark territories. Robert Flemyng delivers a compelling performance as the titular doctor, but it is Steele who steals the show. Her presence elevates the film, providing a counterbalance to Hichcock’s madness and grounding the supernatural elements in a deeply human fear of the unknown.

The film’s score, composed by Roman Vlad, is another standout element, enhancing the gothic atmosphere with its haunting melodies. The music weaves seamlessly with Freda’s visual style, creating a cohesive and immersive horror experience.

The Horrible Dr. Hichcock is not without its flaws. Some may find the pacing slow by modern standards, and the plot occasionally meanders. However, these issues are overshadowed by the film’s strengths—its atmospheric direction, Steele’s powerful performance, and the richly gothic aesthetic that defines Freda’s work.

The Horrible Dr. Hichcock stands as a testament to Riccardo Freda’s influence on the horror genre and Barbara Steele’s enduring legacy as a horror icon. The film’s ability to evoke a sense of dread and its exploration of macabre themes ensure its place as a classic of gothic horror. For fans of the genre, The Horrible Dr. Hichcock remains a must-watch, offering a chilling journey into the darker corners of the human psyche.

The Prognosis:

Barbara Steele and Riccardo Freda’s collaboration in The Horrible Dr. Hichcock continues to resonate, making it a timeless piece of gothic horror cinema.

  • Saul Muerte

1960s Horror Retrospective: Black Sunday (1960)

06 Monday May 2024

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The Birth of Baza

As I began my retrospectives of the 1960s horror era, part of my excitement centred on the Master of Italian Italian Horror and pioneer in the Giallo scene, film director Mario Bava. He led the way and inspired so many filmmakers with his visual style, particularly for his use of colour that would leave a lasting legacy on the genre. This all started in earnest with his solo directorial debut, the Gothic horror starring Barbara Steele, Black Sunday. That’s not to say he was a stranger to the celluloid art, having crafted a career since the late 30’s in many guises that would lead him to becoming a cinematographer to harness his voice and vision, come the release of Black Sunday.

Loosely based on the short story Viy by Nikolai Gogol, that was a passion project of Bava and one he had a close liking to having told the story numerous times to his own children before they went to bed. It’s little wonder that his own son Lamberto Bava would follow in his father’s footsteps and direct horror films. 

Black Sunday is a tale of vengeance and retribution and is most predominantly remembered for its shocking opening scene. Asa (Steele) and her paramour, Javutich are accused of sorcery and sentenced to death. Part of their sentence involved being placed in bronze masks with spikes on the inside and having them hammered in place over their face.

Two centuries later her preserved corpse is reanimated and in order to be fully resurrected, Asa must possess the body of her look-alike descendant Katia. Will she succeed? Can love prevail?

Also starring John Richardson before he was cast in Hammer’s She, and One Million Years BC, as the love interest. Black Sunday is held in high esteem because of some of its imagery, such as the afore-mentioned opener and maggots crawling out of an eye socket in another scene, but it’s also the decision to shoot in black and white, monochrome with a richness to it that both arcs back to the films of Universal that had initially paved the way for horror on screen, but also bridges the gap to the future and how the genre would be shaped. It would launch Barbara Steele’s career, especially in horror for classic films such as The Pit and the Pendulum, and The Horrible Dr Hichcock. For Bava, he would mould his movies over the following decade and cement his name in history. 

– Saul Muerte

Retrospective: The Pit and the Pendulum (1961)

12 Thursday Aug 2021

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When Roger Corman and Vincent Price teamed up to work on an Edgar Allan Poe adaptation of The House of Usher in 1960, it ignited a series of films inspired by the American writer of the macabre, such was the success of the film. The second venture however, entitled The Pit and the Pendulum would bear little resemblance to Poe’s short novella with the exception of the final act which featured the titular pendulum and pit.

Price would as usual bring another of his deliciously macabre and melodramatic performances that he had become known for. In this instance Price plays Nicholas Medina, whose wife Elizabeth (Barbara Steele) has mysteriously disappeared. It is through Elizabeth’s brother Francis (John Kerr) from which the story is told when he travels to Medina’s abode in Spain to find out what has become of his sister. Upon arrival he learns from Medina and through a local physician, Dr. Leon (Antony Carbone) that his sister has supposedly died of fright, due to her morbid fascination with the torture chamber beneath the castle, a leftover from the days of the Spanish Inquisition. The story does not ring true however and Francis becomes hellbent on uncovering the truth.

Corman with the aid of screenwriter Richard Matheson (I Am Legend) weave together a delightfully melancholic tale that embodies Poe’s unconsciousness through a psychological disintegration of the human psyche. The destruction of Medina’s mind and the mask of sanity that slowly falls is maginficientally portrayed by Price. And the supporting cast lift this larger than life fantasy to deliver an apt climax, ticking all the boxes that makes this era of filmmaking so great to revisit.

The effect would prove a financial success for American International Pictures (AIP) and would carve the formula for Corman and Price with further adaptations of Poe’s work. The Pit and the Pendulum would also have a significant impact on future filmmakers, most notably Antonio Marghereti’s Web of the Spider and Mario Bava’s The Whip and the Body, as such it’s an important keystone in the realms of gothic horror films.

  • Saul Muerte