Italian master Mario Bava set resounding quakes throughout cinema, not only by jumpstarting the giallo genre in his native land with Blood and Black Lace, but by bringing Italian horror into its own with his directorial debut, Black Sunday, a.k.a. The Mask of Satan (its literal translation). By combining some of the primary components of his predecessors and loosely adapting “The Viy” by Ukranian master Nikolai Gogol, Bava created his own unique blend of terror as he presents a tantalizingly ambiguous narrative whose influence culminates in Tim Burton’s declaration that Black Sunday is his favorite horror film.

During the 1630’s on Saint George’s Day (Black Sunday) in Moldavia, Princess Asa Vajda (Barbara Steele, 8½, Pit and the Pendulum, Shivers) is condemned to be burned at the stake, alongside her brother Igor Javutich (Arturo Dominici), who is said to be “the Serf of the Devil.” Before their executions by the Grand Inquisitor (Antonio Pierfederici), brother to the condemned, they are fitted with the Mask of Satan, a faceplate lined with spikes. Before her death, Asa swears revenge upon the family. Two centuries later, Doctor Thomas Kruvajan (Andrea Checchi, who modeled his character after the director) and his assistant, Doctor Andre Gorobec (John Richardson, star of several Hammer productions), are on their way to a medical conference when Nikita (Mario Passante, La Strada, Nights of Cabiria), their coachman, becomes stranded. As Nikita repairs the coach, the doctors wander into nearby ruins. Kruvajan, fascinated by the desecrated grounds, impales himself on a piece of glass over the coffin of Asa as he fends off a bat attack. The blood from the doctor’s wound revives Asa as she and Igor rise again and seek their revenge.

Bava’s Black Sunday is equal parts Hammer Horror, Universal’s Golden Era, and trademark Italian terror. The pacing and narrative style is reminiscent of Terence Fisher’s work in Britain during the time while the crisp, clear black and white photography (by Bava) is redolent of James Whale’s masterworks. The gruesome nature of Asa’s death, her resurrection and seduction of Kruvajan, and her vital depletion of her descendent, Katia (Barabara Steele), are signature Italian effects long before they would be labeled as such (Black Sunday was only the third horror film made with sound in Italy). The culmination of these components create a masterpiece, not only Italian or even horror cinema, but of film in general.

However, the work’s potency doesn’t cease with its aggregation of the aforementioned components of the production. Black Sunday is a well constructed, virtuoso work of cinema in most every regard. For example, after Kruvajan’s blood descends into the wells of Asa’s long-vacated eye sockets, the scene is echoed when, after the doctor tosses a stone into a pond, Igor appears mysteriously (thus, as Kruvajan’s blood called forth Asa, a similar act summoned her accomplice). Also, the sequence reinforces one of the primary motifs in Bava’s work: the eye (cf. the works of Italian master Lucio Fulci and Dario Argento’s Opera). Throughout the film, the theme of seeing is represented and repeated, not only by way of the form of the human eye, but by way of camera movement as we are carried down various passageways, as the camera pans windows, as well as cutting amid tangles of branches.

The characters of Asa and her descendent, Katia, are masterful representations of the Madonna whore as Bava explores the moral stagnation throughout the centuries as the former is condemned, arguably, for her sexuality as the latter, during the sexually stifling period of the 1800’s, begins to regress back to her genetic predisposition for sex. We watch as naïve Katia is perplexed, unable to account for why Gorobec is drawn to her. Consequentially, Bava presents us with one of the earliest, but irrefutably the most vindictive, female horror antagonists to date. Barbara Steele is perfectly cast as she seamlessly blends malevolence with sexuality. As a consequence, she became an icon for horror. Her title as “The Queen of Horror” finds its genesis in Black Sunday.

The work is gorgeously ambiguous in its subtle depiction of good and evil (most of the main roles are dually played). On the surface, we have the diametrically opposed sides of benevolence in the characters of Katia, Gorobec, and the priest (Antonio Pierfederici) while their counterparts are represented in the figures of Asa, Igor, and the demonized Kruvajan. Yet, interestingly, during the opening credits, it is revealed that the Grand Inquisitor is Asa’s brother, thus if his siblings are eliminated, his ascent to the throne will be uncontested. We watch as the film’s resolution, returning Castle Vajda back to normalcy, echoing the self-interested event that preceded it two centuries prior. The motif of uncertainty is paralleled by Asa, in that we are never sure if she is a vampire, a witch, or a combination of the two. However, staunch lines of definition weren’t omitted due to oversights on Bava’s behalf. Rather, they defy the audience’s attempt to categorize evil in any form. The director’s main concern is that evil is present.

Yet the film is not without its flaws. There are considerable problems with continuity, none of which are accountable to the editorial efforts of Mario Serandrei as he steadfastly pieced together a sometimes inconsistent script. Also of note, the special effects, also completed by Bava, continue to fascinate viewers decades after the film’s initial release. We watch as Asa and Katia inversely age and grow younger by a trick of colored lights and face paint.

In 1960, several landmarks of horror were released: Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho, Michael Powell’s Peeing Tom, and Roger Corman’s House of Usher and The Little Shop of Horrors, and Wolf Rilla’s Village of the Damned. Mario Bava’s masterpiece stands alongside these works as he propelled Italian horror into the limelight by combining the elements of his predecessors while presenting a criticism of moral stagnation and hypocrisy. Though he would never create anything as powerful as his debut, the influence of Black Sunday is still felt today, not only in the genre of Italian horror or horror in general, but upon the whole of cinema.

-Egregious Gurnow