Rosy (Michele Mercier) is a high-class call-girl in Paris, who gets home one night to be plagued with threatening phone calls by a man claiming to be watching everything she does. Believing it to be her former pimp Frank (Milo Quesada) who has just escaped from prison, Rosy confides in her lesbian lover Mary (Lidia Alfonsi). The Telephone is certainly the weakest of the trio, offering little in the visual department when compared to the other two, but is important due to the fact that it was one of the first giallo's ever made. Bava's patient approach certainly brings tension to the story, but it is relatively simplistic and somewhat predictable.The central piece, The Wurdalak, is the finest (and longest) segment in the film, with a story so rooted in gothic, fairytale ideals, that Bava goes to town with it. Set in 19th century Russia, Vladimir (Mark Damon) comes across a headless corpse with a knife in its back. He takes the lavishly decorated blade and rides on, eventually coming to a small cottage. On the wall of the cottage is a set of swords with a vacant space that matches the shape of the one Vladimir pulled from the corpse. Giorgio (Glauco Onorato) explains that the knife belongs to his father, who has been missing for five days in the hunt for the deadly outlaw - and suspected Wurdalak - Ali Beg. The father, Gorca (Karloff), arrives home, carrying the head of Beg, but his increasingly erratic behaviour cause the family to believe that he himself is now a Wurdalak.
Similar to Black Sunday, The Wurdalak is rooted in gothic and fairytale sensibilities, so Bava is naturally at home. But this isn't shot in the black-and-white of Sunday, but in full lavish colour, and Bava injects some truly beautiful moments into this story, especially the night-time horse ride with Karloff as he laughs manically after having kidnapped his grandson. Also similar to Sunday, the creature of the Wurdalak is as ominous as Sunday's 'vampires', but that is beside the point. This is seeped in atmosphere and anchored by a terrific performance from Karloff, one of the finest of his career.
The final film, The Drop of Water, features one of a precious few moments in cinema that have genuinely terrified me. English nurse Helen (Jacqueline Pierreux) is called out to a house to dispose of the body of an elderly lady. While dressing the body, she notices a sapphire ring on her finger which she steals, and is suddenly plagued by a buzzing fly. When she gets back to her apartment, Helen notices the fly again, and the old woman's corpse starts appearing to her. This is again a very basic concept that follows the traditions of a standard ghost story, and it is the face of the corpse that will stay in your memory. Twisted with death, whoever created the prosthetics deserves a medal for creating one of the most genuinely unsettling moments in horror history.The Drop of Water also continues The Wurdalak's beautiful visuals, employing red and blues in places where they don't belong, but instead blurring the reality of the proceedings and creating a kind of warped insight into Helen's torment. It's the visuals that will no doubt stay with you after watching Black Sabbath, but Bava injects a moment of pure madness with his final scene. Apparently he was told by Italian producers to end on a happy note, but what drove Bava to film what he did is beyond me. I won't ruin it for those who haven't seen it, but personally, I liked it, as it cements Bava's reputation as a true visionary and gives us an insight into the man's sense of humour. Whether you love it or hate it, you can't say you saw it coming. All in all, one of the most beautiful horror films ever made.
Directed by: Mario Bava
Starring: Michéle Mercier, Lidia Alfonsi, Boris Karloff, Mark Damon, Jacqueline Pierreux
Country: Italy/UK/France
Rating: ****
Tom Gillespie
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