I tre volti della paura (1963)
Directed by Mario Bava, Salvatore Billitteri

Film Review

Immediately after completing La Ragazza che sapeva troppo (a.k.a. The Girl Who Knew Too Much) (1963), director Mario Bava was eager to make another film in the horror genre, this time an anthology concerned with aspects of fear in different periods of history.  The film he ended up making - I tre volti della paura (The Three Faces of Fear) - was very different to his original conception but is now widely regarded as one of his finest achievements, breaking new ground both technically and  in its horror content.  The film's innovative visual and sound design proved to be extremely effective in creating a mood of slowly escalating terror in each of its three segments, providing inspiration for many subsequent filmmakers, including George A. Romero and David Lynch.  The film is better known in its English language version Black Sabbath, which differs from the original Italian release in that the horror is considerably toned down and most of the sexual references (notably allusions to lesbianism in The Telephone episode) removed.

I tre volti della paura is a landmark in Italian horror for several reasons.  Most importantly, The Telephone represents the first true example of giallo - an important genre in Italian cinema of the '60s and '70s which offers a lurid combination of mystery, sex and horror.  Bava's previous film La Ragazza che sapeva troppo had introduced many of the elements of giallo but The Telephone is the first fully fledged example of the genre.  The plot may be minimal but it is so masterfully staged, shot and edited that the tension and fear quotient are driven to their absolute limits, the result being twenty minutes of excruciating anticipation with a shocking payoff. 

No less significant is the fact that the film contains Boris Karloff's last great performance, in The Wurdalak segment. The actor's understated portrayal of a blood-sucking zombie is every bit as sinister as his earlier Frankenstein monster creation, and some would argue even more spine-chilling.  It is the combination of Karloff's extraordinary presence and Bava's artistic flair that makes The Wurdalak one of the best (if not the best) vampire film ever made.  Taking his inspiration from F.W. Murnau's Nosferatu (1922) and Hammer's Dracula (1958), both of which are referenced in the film, Bava offers a genuinely terrifying reinterpretation of the vampire legend, with very little in the way of explicit horror (i.e. none of the gruesome impalements that featured in Bava's earlier shocker The Mask of Satan). 

Even though they were working on a shoestring budget, Bava and his team created for The Wurdalak one of the most vividly haunting dreamscapes ever seen in a horror film, consisting of rugged exteriors draped in an eerie blue mist and claustrophobic interiors that are given an unnatural beauty by lighting through coloured gels. Roberto Nicolosi's suitably creepy score adds to the stifling atmosphere and creates a sense of inescapable doom.  Significantly, this is the first horror film in which evil is not defeated - could this be why it leaves such a lasting impression?

The film's third segment, The Drop of Water, is a masterpiece of narrative economy and shows Bava at his most inventive.  Here, through some of his most inspired camerawork and lighting, Bava slowly ratchets up the terror and anticipation like a Medieval torturer, building to one of the most effective climaxes of any horror film.  Such was the horrific impact of the ending to this segment that the film's American distributor (AIP) insisted on a different ordering of the stories for their Black Sabbath release.  Another omission from the AIP release is the humorous coda, where Bava breaks the fourth wall and lets his audience see how one of the film's effects was realised - this sequence is to be treasured, not only because it shows that Bava had a sense of humour, but also because it presents Boris Karloff as he was in real life, an amiable soul enjoying what he does best.

The origin of the three stories that make up the film has long been debated, although there is no doubt that most of the ideas came from Bava himself.  The caption that credits the screenplay to Chekhov, Tolstoy and Maupassant is an obvious Bava gag, although two of Guy de Maupassant's short stories - La Horla and Fear - do have a connection with The Telephone and The Drop of Water episodes.  La Horla would be subsequently adapted as Diary of a Madman (1963) by Reginald Le Borg, with Vincent Price in the lead role.

French film aficionados will recognise Michèle Mercier as the tortured heroine in The Telephone segment.  Mercier had only recently made a name for herself, through her appearance in Francois Truffaut's Tirez sur le pianiste (1960), and featured in a number of Italian films of this period.  She would subsequently take the lead in the popular Angélique films of the mid-to-late 1960s, a role that would hamper her subsequent career and ultimately lead her to give up acting altogether.  There is another Truffaut connection in The Drop of Water segment.  Cast as the ill-fated nurse is Jacqueline Pierreux, the mother of Jean-Pierre Léaud, who played the character of Antoine Doinel in several of Truffaut's films, beginning with Les 400 coups (1959).

For a film that was made half a century ago, it seems incredible that I tre volti della paura still manages to chill the blood.  Movie horror may have moved on considerably since this film was first seen, and yet it still contains some of the genre's most chilling images  - a small child being abducted by a vampiric zombie and then later pleading to be let into his home, the reanimated corpse of an old woman gliding towards the camera with malevolent intent, and endless close-ups revealing undiluted terror.  There is none of the gruesome visceral horror which today's terror merchants feel is so essential to their art, no explosions of gore and mindless violence.  Bava knew that the things that really scare us are things that come from within, the fears that have been with us since childhood - fear of the dark, the unknown, the unexplained.  A sound we cannot identify, a strange shadow on the wall, a sudden inexplicable chill - these are what most curdle our blood.   This is why Mario Bava's films continue to frighten us - because they recognise that we are the architects of our own terrors.  When you are alone at night and you hear the phone ring or a sudden tap at the door, aren't you just a little bit afraid?  You should be.  The sound of a dripping tap could be all it takes to tip you over the edge and transform reality into the most horrifying of nightmares.

Film Synopsis

The Telephone:
Shortly after returning to her apartment one evening, Parisian call-girl Rosy begins to receive a series of threatening phone calls.  She recognises the caller as Frank, the man she betrayed some time ago.  It appears that Frank has just escaped from prison and intends to take his revenge by killing her.  Rosy calls her former lover Mary, who agrees to come over and spend the night with her.  Rosy does not know that it was Mary who has been making the phone calls, imitating Frank's voice...

The Wurdalak:
In 19th Century Russia,  a young prince named Vladimir d'Urfe comes across a headless body with a knife in its back.  A short while later, he enters a small cottage inhabited by a family who anxiously await the return of their father, Gorcha.  When Gorcha appears on the stroke of midnight, he reveals that he has slain the last of the Wurdalak, zombie-like beings that feast on the blood of the living, preferably those who were closest to them in life.  Later that night, Gorcha surreptitiously leaves the cottage with his grandson, and the child's parents suddenly realise that the old man has become a Wurdalak...

The Drop of Water:
Late one evening, nurse Helen Chester receives a phone call summoning her to a house where she must prepare a corpse for burial.  The dead woman is a medium who died from a heart attack during one of her séances.  As she performs her duties, Helen secretly steals a ring from the dead body.  When she returns to her apartment, she begins to sense a ghostly presence.  It is as if the ring's owner has come back to exact a terrible revenge...