Lamberto Bava, son of Italian horror maestro Mario Bava, has had a quite a fruitful career himself as a director in the annals of the fright field. His films range from the classically suspenseful (
Delirium, A Blade in the Dark) to the more overtly gruesome (
Demons and
Demons 2) and have always shown off his acute sense for sharp visuals and twisted theatrics. And while his talent may not be widely recognized by mainstream critics, Lamberto has remained beloved by genre fans and is indeed a worthy successor to his father’s important contributions to horror. Making his directorial debut in 1980 with the effective little shocker
Macabre, Bava and his fellow screenwriters took a headline from a New Orleans newspaper about a supposed real-life case that not only turns out to be a great idea for a horror movie, but also a more chilling one at that due to its roots in reality.
THE LOWDOWN: New Orleans housewife Jane (Bernice Stegers) leaves her son and daughter home alone one day to meet with her secret lover Fred (Roberto Posse). While with him, she receives a call that her son has died. The two of them immediately jump in Jane's car and begin driving to the scene of the tragedy, however, the couple soon crash the vehicle and Fred is killed. Upon release a year later from a mental institution to recover from the trauma experienced as a result of both deaths, Jane moves into the same boarding house where she and her lover used to rendezvous, now inhabited by blind man Robert (Stanko Molnar). As his lust for her grows, Robert begins to discover a strange, secret life hidden by Jane…one that involves her inability to let go of old desires reserved only for deceased heartthrob Fred. Has Jane found a ghastly new way to quench her feelings or are Robert’s suspicions all ‘in the head’?
THE TERROR TALE & ITS TIMING: From the opening credits we are told that
Macabre was inspired by a series of events that took place in New Orleans in the late 1970s. This immediately raises some degree of doubt on behalf of the audience, as any film slapped with such a moniker often ends up embellishing heavily on supposed ‘true events’ in order to create sufficient dramatic effect. Although Bava states in a number of interviews that the movie was indeed inspired by a small news story that emerged in the U.S shortly before he collaborated on what would become the finished screenplay for the film, it would appear that the majority of the narrative is a work of fiction. Regardless of how much of the film is adaptation and how much is fabricated,
Macabre has some serious balls for taking on a number of taboo issues - the main one of course being necrophilia. In fact, any film that aspires to not only discuss such subject matter on screen but to make it one of the central points of focus for the
story itself is inherently asking for a blast of critical buckshot to the face. Unlike more recent films like Lynne Stopkewich’s
Kissed that deal with love of the dead in a very sincere and dramatic way, the sexual attraction to corpses through the eyes of Bava's lens is portrayed as a thing of pure horror, never for a second being an act condonable by any character in the film. This is neither the right or wrong way to perceive such behavior. It is simply one example.
The film’s screenplay is also rich with other issues of psychological torment and psychoanalysis that the synopsis alone would have made Sigmund Freud’s curious bald head explode. In many ways the entire movie is about sexual repression and the fear of sex as a forbidden act punishable through the public eye. It is not a liberating depiction of sex as typically portrayed through popular culture but rather a more Catholic, conservative view of sex, thus making the implications of horror all the more potent. Similar views are expressed in Stephen King’s popular novel
Carrie (albeit to a more extreme level of religious fanaticism) when the constant denial of sexual urges manifests itself in outbursts of violence toward loved ones. Such mental malfunction makes for an intensely concentrated and emotionally engaging thriller, and for the most part
Macabre is just that. However, being his first film Bava occasionally falls back into sluggish pacing and displays a slightly frustrating tendency to pad screen time with unnecessarily long scenes of his characters simply going about their daily activities. But if you’re patient with the film you’re sure to be pleasantly surprised by its intelligence and unpretentious style.
DOOMED CHARACTERS: Many Italian horror directors at work in the late 70s and early 80s (namely Dario Argento and Lucio Fulci among others) were primarily focused on visually rich creations of terror – flamboyant color palettes and wildly elaborate deaths – that often left characterization and narrative logic in the backseat in favor of more technically impressive endeavors. By comparison,
Macabre is a glaring left-hand turn toward a much more emotional piece, relying heavily on the disposition and subsequent actions of its characters in order to tell a story of such psychological complexity. Every character in the film is flawed; Jane’s obsession and desperation to maintain her sorrid affair – even after death – causes her not only to destroy her own life but also the lives of those closest to her. The pain caused to her by Fred’s passing quickly becomes all-consuming, giving birth to an insatiable hunger of recreating and relieving the passion they once shared night-after-night in the isolated comfort of their secret rendezvous. Consequently, whenever she is reminded of the heartbreak she caused her family as a result of her actions she is forced to medicate herself with prescription drugs in order to suppress her guilt and shame. These imperfections are beautifully articulated by Bernice Stegers - a shrewd actress who displays a brave conviction throughout the movie that is nothing short of impressive, even if she does become a little arch in the film’s final minutes.
And while Jane’s sexual desires may be hidden from view, Robert’s continual refusal to acknowledge his own feelings of attraction toward his female housemate are almost more overt than that of a woman keeping a private shrine of her dead lover on display in her bedroom. A quiet, reserved and innocent young man, Robert’s disability of impaired vision makes him even more sensitive to his remaining senses, particularly that of hearing. Night after night the sounds of Jane’s passionate lovemaking plague his mounting thoughts of forbidden fruit, a relationship that can never be consummated even in his wildest dreams. The idea that he
hears sex but cannot
see it creates an effective metaphor for his feelings of shame, and were it not for his aliment Robert’s urges may have indeed been satisfied long ago. Stanko Molnar’s heartfelt performance is one of the film’s best attributes, carefully measured and played for every nuance the character exhibits.
THE LOOK OF FEAR: Horror fans expecting the kinetic pace, surrealism, and gleeful perversity of the director’s later films will perhaps be disappointed by
Macabre as Bava chooses to downplay the gruesome extravagance he would eventually become known for and instead keep a fairly subdued visual approach for this his first foray into the genre. Minus a few visceral shocks in the brief grand guinol finish, the film is a sincere attempt to create a gothic-inspired horror story – one that relies less on explicit unveilings of gore and more on a palpable sense of dread and an anticipation of secrets unholy. Franco Delli Colli’s cinematography is classical and polished while the rich set dressings of the boarding house (evoking most of the film’s gothic atmosphere) are gorgeously realized by Katia Dottori – a frequent contributor to the spaghetti horrors of the 80s.
THE SOUND OF FRIGHT: The common practice in Italy at the time in order to accommodate for international distribution was to shoot films silent then dub the entire soundtrack in during post-production. By no means a detriment to the film, the artificial sonic work in
Macabre at times comes across as patchy and undersized in relation to the action…an unfortunate factor when crossing country shores. And while it may be in need of some creepy sound effects to enhance the drama, Ubaldo Continiello’s romantic score is definitely a lush compliment to the film, especially during scenes of Jane’s mourning and Robert’s escalating fears of unimaginable truths kept hidden within the boarding house.
FINAL THOUGHTS: By no means a perfect film,
Macabre remains an impressive beginning to one of Italy’s most prolific and talented craftsmen of horror. It is first and foremost a character-driven tale of terror, complete with some nice old-fashioned touches of Hitchcockian suspense and a strong psychological underpinning that sustains its longevity as a solid thriller with intellect. Were it not for a few minor lapses in logic and a slower-than-warranted pace, this morbid tale of mental torture could have been a mini classic.
