When Dr. Thomas Kruvajan (Andrea Checchi) is attacked by a giant rubber bat while exploring an old crypt with his assistant Dr. Andre Gorobec (John Richardson), he accidentally smashes the stone cross positioned over the coffin of vampiric witch Asa Vajda (Barbara Steele); to make matters worse, he removes the mask covering her face, cutting himself in the process (silly old doctor). With the cross destroyed, the mask gone, and the doctor's blood dripping into the coffin, Asa is resurrected, and, with the help of fellow vamp Javuto (Arturo Dominici), she wreaks revenge on the ancestors of those who sentenced her to death.
The opening scene to Mario Bava's Black Sunday AKA The Mask of Satan delivers one of the most potent images in the history of Italian horror cinema: a spiked, metal devil mask being hammered onto the face of vampiric witch Asa Vajda (squelch!). Unfortunately, so shocking and brutal is this scene that, as impressive as Bava's beautiful black and white cinematography is throughout the rest of his film, there is nothing to rival Asa's brutal execution in terms of sheer horror, making everything that follows something of a let-down.
This feeling of disappointment isn't helped by the hoary old Gothic horror nonsense that unfolds, which is loaded with tired genre clichés (creaky old doors, stormy weather, cobweb covered tombs, hidden passageways, villagers armed with pitchforks and torches) and which suffers from a script packed with verbose dialogue that is frequently laughable (example: "What is my life? Sadness and grief. Something that destroys itself day by day and no-one can rebuild it. Here is the very image of my life. Look at it it is being consumed hour by hour like this garden, abandoned to a purposeless existence."). Inspired use of light and shadow and acute visual lyricism can only excuse so much.
The opening scene to Mario Bava's Black Sunday AKA The Mask of Satan delivers one of the most potent images in the history of Italian horror cinema: a spiked, metal devil mask being hammered onto the face of vampiric witch Asa Vajda (squelch!). Unfortunately, so shocking and brutal is this scene that, as impressive as Bava's beautiful black and white cinematography is throughout the rest of his film, there is nothing to rival Asa's brutal execution in terms of sheer horror, making everything that follows something of a let-down.
This feeling of disappointment isn't helped by the hoary old Gothic horror nonsense that unfolds, which is loaded with tired genre clichés (creaky old doors, stormy weather, cobweb covered tombs, hidden passageways, villagers armed with pitchforks and torches) and which suffers from a script packed with verbose dialogue that is frequently laughable (example: "What is my life? Sadness and grief. Something that destroys itself day by day and no-one can rebuild it. Here is the very image of my life. Look at it it is being consumed hour by hour like this garden, abandoned to a purposeless existence."). Inspired use of light and shadow and acute visual lyricism can only excuse so much.