Mario Bava’s Planet of the Vampires, which possesses so many alternative titles it would take up most of this review, creates a sci-fi horror tale which acts like malevolent Forbidden Planet on a head full of acid. The film is marketed by MGM as a “Midnite Movie” with just reason: Bava attempted to do too much with too little. His budgetary constraints, regardless of how hard he attempted to blanket them, becomes too overbearing as they consume the audience. However, I will credit the film on two counts: One, the earnest ending and two, sporadic moments of creepiness which, if Bava would have been able to sustain them (atop being issued a bigger budget), might have created a work comparable to I, Vampiri, Blood and Black Lace, and Black Sunday.

Spaceships Argos and Galliot investigate the planet Aura, which is emitting radio signals, thus indicating intelligent life. However, after being pulled into the planet’s fifty-G atmosphere unharmed, the crew of the Galliot discover those aboard the Argos murdered. The Galliotians then discover that when unconscious–by way of sleep or death–people fall under the sway of another will. They quickly deduce this anomaly is due to the flashing pulses of light they had witnessed shortly after landing. Later, we are informed that the lights are actually disembodied entities in need of a home because they are facing extinction if they do not flee their dying planet.

I will proceed from worst to best:

First, the film is hopelessly dated. Great films that withstand the test of time either have the good sense to plant themselves firmly into a period or movement (i.e.–The Godfather) or opt to settle into ambiguous, situational settings and wardrobe devoid of time (the latter applying most specifically to science fiction films). The wrong move for some movies, and the reason for many of the cult favorites of today stem largely from 1950’s sci-fi, is that some producers and costume designers feel omniscient enough to affirm their notion of futuristic attire onscreen (which, of course, quickly dates itself as a signpost for era ideology). Plant of the Vampires rates as one of the greatest examples of this to the extent that, regardless of how hard the viewer attempts to either ignore or acclimate him or herself to what is presented, one’s efforts will be posited in vain. The major sin, however, is Bava’s use of sub par special effects which, I would argue, was laughable even at the time of the film’s release. In short, he should have either spent more time thinking about other manners in which to present his ideas or rewritten the script in order to avoid this glaring problem.

However, Bava does attempt to compensate for this budgetary affliction by veiling the film in mystery and ambiguity. He does this by refusing quick answers and by shrouding most every scene in parallel fog while presenting a color scheme of malicious reds and blues throughout. Especially during disquieted moments, epitomized by close-ups, the viewer cannot thwart a sense of claustrophobia and unnamed, ensuing danger. Lastly, I do admire the ending which, unlike most sci-fi films (or most films for that matter), will force an ending to appease a general audience. Bava refuses to do so in this one.

The script, based upon Renato Pestriniero’s “One Night of 21 Hours,” is a thoughtful tract in the vein of Alien and John Carpenter’s The Thing (which Bava’s work predated). Yes, the film is a cautionary tale popular at the time but with an intriguing psychological variant. However, I believe that, though a master with the requisite skills to present such a work, Bava should have waited for a larger budget to bring the philosophies of his film to a more effective light. I consider the work viewing for Bava fans and people seeking a background in the history of cinematic science fiction.

-Egregious Gurnow