The Vampires' Night Orgy
(La orgía nocturna de los vampiros, 1973)

León Klimovsky

Spain

80 min, color, English (dubbed)

Review © 2006 Branislav L. Slantchev

Spain is not known for its horror films and except the seemingly endless output by Paul Naschy and the universally acclaimed Blind Dead quartet, one is hard-pressed to name many memorable entries in this genre filmed on the Iberian peninsula. I don't really know why this should be so, almost without exception the Spanish horror films that I have seen are decent and since they are not mere knock-offs of products either by their industrious Italian neighbors or the overwhelmingly dominant Americans, it's a puzzling loss to all of us as viewers.

There's a skull and bones mark for this village in my Michelin guide	Look carefully around: most of us won't survive this

This is not the place to delve in what makes Spanish films so distinct but several traits should probably be mentioned. First, there's very little nudity. In this, they share more with American horror films than with the outings by fellow Romance cultures. This is probably not due to some Spanish prudishness but is likely to have been a result of Franco's dictatorship: the military is not universally known to sponsor soft-core films and from what I have seen in Spain, the Catholic Church has long lost its viselike grasp on the populace. This self-censorship is very similar to what happens this side of the Atlantic but whereas it is done here because of fear of Puritan morality, the Spanish films also do not have the typically American substitute: violence.

The Village Welcoming Committee	Now drink this and don't ask any questions

In other words, we have exploitation films that have hardly any sex and almost no violence to speak of, at least nothing depicted graphically enough to induce critics to wail about sublimation of voyeuristic and sadistic tendencies by the audience. The budgets also tend to be on the decidedly poor side, which also distinguishes them from American productions (which, while not operating on exactly Hollywood budgets still seem lavishly produced by comparison) but also puts them in the same boat as, say French, horror films. There's also no humor worth mentioning, and the drama is told with a straight face without much reliance on either artsy cinematography or some special effect gimmicks. If you add the invariably hammy acting and plots that seem to have been penned by the director's kid during a break between classes, one really has to wonder why these films are so cool.

Here's your Heineken!	Is this farrier leg tender and juicy enough?

I honestly have no answer to this. My experiences with Spanish horror all follow the same general pattern. I watch the film, occasionally roll my eyes, find myself alternatingly bored and bewildered, and then stare in total confusion as the end credits roll. I then resolve never to see another Spanish horror film ever again. Then, several days later, I catch myself thinking about the film, the mood, the story. This goes on for a week or so until I start hunting the web for another Iberian horror film because I am now fascinated with the approach. And then the whole process repeats. For me, Spanish films are a lot like the films of George Romero: somewhat dull to watch but never failing to convey atmosphere that maintains its lingering presence long after (sometimes years after) I saw the film.

When make-up fails, use low lighting and wide angles	Despite appearances, this woman is not undead

Perhaps there's something timelessly appealing in films about remote villages in which a tightly-knit community is hostile to strangers, especially ones coming from modern urban areas, and which harbors some awful secret. This one can easily be set in just about any time period and the basic plot will work in exactly the same way. It is this curious juxtaposition between what would be comforting and familiar to an insider but is alien and sinister to an outsider. It's not so much the conflict between urban and rural as it is between a community and a disturbing element.

If beautiful lonesome countess offers you money and Shakespeare recitals, RUN LIKE HELL!	This vampire has trouble keeping fang dentures from falling out

The interesting point is that a community can socialize its members to accept as normal practices and beliefs that would appear utterly baffling, if not downright insane, to the uninitiated. This socialization can make a norm of killing strangers or lopping off appendages of fellow villagers to serve the meat at dinner to these same strangers whose blood the community will suck when the night comes. It is precisely because this is told with a straight face that it works so well. We don't need to resort to a chemical to explain this sort of insanity, as Rollin does in The Grapes of Death, a very similar story in which normal (by our standards) people are hunted down by villagers in some remote area. Once insanity becomes a mass affliction, it becomes normal, which is how it is portrayed by de Ossorio in Night of the Seagulls.

The lone surviving scene with partial nudity	Three out of five vampires agree that mustaches are too much trouble

The title, as usual for these films, is misleading. Whereas there's at least one vampire (it's not at all clear what the villagers are for they may have buck teeth but no fangs) but there's certainly no orgy unless one means it metaphorically as in "orgy of violence" but even then it would have been more apt to talk about a banquet at best. I hear that the film did have more nudity in the original but this is irrelevant because even if we could locate a print (which we cannot, at least for now), there still would be no orgy. I can see only two places where nudity could have been used and in both cases it involves couples only (a scene with Dyanik Zurakowska to satisfy that voyeur Jack Taylor and an extended scene with Helga Liné before she sucks David Aller dry). In both cases the film is probably much better in its current cut.

Obligatory gratuitous shot of Dyanik Zurakowska	Hunting-gathering in a remote Romanian village

The story involves a bunch of people who get stranded in a remote countryside when their bus driver has a heart attack and dies en route. They follow the road signs to a village that is not indicated on their maps. While this is not as sinister as it sounds to an American or Western European (if you have ever seen a Bulgarian or Russian map, you would know why), it still should give one pause for thought. But that presumes one knows one is in a horror film, which the characters presumably do not. Our heroes are only mildly amused and not at all startled to find the village entirely deserted but with tourist facilities fully operational (e.g., bar well stocked, fireplace lit). Naturally (!!!), they all go to bed and somewhat oddly fail to be startled when in the morning they find the place bustling with activity.

Oh the irony: this guy just sharpened the blade that will be used to lop off his arm	No horror film is complete without a damsel in extreme distress

The lame explanation offered by the village mayor Boris (José Guardiola) is that everyone had been to the graveyard to see off a member of the community on his final journey. OK, so maybe in some villages they do spend the entire night in the cemetery, I still think it's weird. But then again, I was weirded out at Pietrapetrosa, the remote mountain village in Italy's Basilicata, and I fully expected not to live to see the light of day after hearing the entire village congregated in the local church and then spending the night under the accompaniment of eerie noises. Come to think of it, we behaved no more wisely than these tourists. Thankfully, the Italians were no vampires even if some of them spoke German. At any rate, the truth is quickly revealed: the local Countess (Helga Liné) runs a community of undead who gradually turn the outsiders into insiders. There are some interesting twists, like the villagers serving their own meat at dinner. This has a delightful dialogue between the mayor and the unsuspecting Godo (Luis Ciges) who wonders what condiments and spices the cook used to give the meat its unusual flavor. "You have never tasted anything like it, this I am sure of," says the smug mayor. The meat is procured in a highly unorthodox fashion: the giant (Fernando Bilbao) simply walks around with a huge ax and detaches various body parts from other villagers "by orders of the Countess."

Children should not play with dead things at graveyards	We may be goofy, but we're still undead!

None of this is explained, but even more weird is the little boy who is not entirely corporeal given his propensity to vanish in thin air. He seems aware of the villagers' true identity (and they see him) but he also tries to help a little girl escape her gruesome fate although he accidentally kills her in the process. At any rate, his presence is never fully explained or his actions related to the script. All of this is a minor annoyance next to the atrocious acting by Jack Taylor, who plays Luis and spends his time convincingly leering at Alma (Dyanik Zurakowska) whose steely Slavic features make her an excellent heroine for a horror film. As I said before, the cinematography is not going to be winning any awards even though the fact that the film avoids being totally murky even though it supposedly depicts a village in which the sun never shines.

If Goya lived today, this is what he would paint	Damn backseat drivers!

The Pagan DVD presents a letterboxed widescreen transfer at the film's original aspect ratio of 2.35:1. The quality is substandard but perhaps a little better than a VHS tape. The version is the one that is on all releases of this film (i.e., without the nudity) and clocks at about 80 minutes. The color scheme must have been muted by design (after all, there is never sunlight in the village) but even then there is the instability and quite obvious problems with contrast. Several scenes are also out of focus, but we cannot blame Pagan for that. The audio track is limited to the English dub, which is unfortunate because it's quite flat and lifeless, not to mention unbalanced and muffled. As a result, half of the dialogue is barely audible and there's a clear low-level hum that persists throughout. The extras are limited to some liner notes about the main leads and a still gallery. I would not have bought this if I did not have my craving for Spanish horror films.

December 31, 2006