Rome, Italy. An opera house where two Japanese young women want to skip the performance on their last night in the city and do something fun. At the nightclub, the two young women separate, one meets a handsome young man while the other decides to take a taxi back to her hotel. The young woman flags down a cab and gives the driver her destination. The driver takes the woman on an unfamiliar route, apparently in the opposite direction of her hotel. The following day at a fashion show, runway model Celine (Elsa Pataky) receives a phone call from her sister, Linda (Emmanuelle Seigner), a flight attendant who has just arrived in Rome. Celine is busy with the show but makes plans to see her sister later in the evening. After the show, Celine flags a taxi to meet Linda at a restaurant. Linda calls Celine on her cellular phone while she is in the taxi and hears her sister yell at the taxi driver that he is driving in the wrong direction. Celine never shows at the restaurant or comes home which prompts Linda the following morning to visit the police. She meets Inspector Enzo Avolfi (Adrian Brody) who is working on a murder case involving young women victims.
The first act of Dario Argento's latest film, Giallo (2009), is extremely well-executed and focused. The initial collage of scenes which set up the intrigue for the film's mystery are tight and each sequence serves to advance the plot. When Brody's character is introduced, with his questioning of Seigner's Linda, he immediately appears as credible. While he is curt with Linda (and perhaps lacking sensitivity to Linda's stress over her missing sister), Avolfi only asks relevant questions to his investigation. Giallo then focuses on Avolfi as main character and in a following scene, he exits the police station to drive his car in Rome. As he is driving, Avolfi notes that he is being followed by a cab. In an unexpected turn, Avolfi stops in the middle of the street and confronts the cab driver. No chase through the middle of the city. Avolfi means business. Likewise, Avolfi's character never wavers throughout the duration of Giallo. As an inspector, he is logical and deductive, able to identify the relevant clues, make associational links between them, and advance his investigation.
During his first twenty years as a director, beginning with L'uccello dalle piume di cristallo (1970) and leading up to (but not including) Due occhi diabolici (1990), Dario Argento is clearly an auteur. With his subsequent cinema in the twenty years up to (and including) Giallo, I am reticent to label him as one. This is not a criticism nor is it a flaw. If it is a flaw, then it is one with the criticism and not the film maker. Giallo is a very good but not great film. Those seeking the magic from his initial twenty years as a film maker, where nearly all of his masterpieces reside, will not find them within Giallo. In fact, the film's title is not Argento's return to the old genre but a reference to an important clue within the story.
Giallo is born from two influential American films, Jonathan Demme's The Silence of the Lambs (1991) and David Fincher's Seven (1995) which has spawned (at least in the United States) the obsession with profilers and their investigative techniques. Identifying the killer's modus operandi is the key, since serial killers have their own motives different from most who commit homicide (with traditional motives, such as spurned love or money). Giallo follows suit as Brody's character is an FBI profiler working in Rome. He is Italian and was born there but spent his youth in New York before returning. Avolfi has an inclination towards finding killers, bordering on obsession. Photographic evidence is key, and early in the film, it is revealed that Avolfi has identified the killer's m.o. Giallo's second and third acts depict his investigation as finding the relevant clues as to now catch him.
Nearly everything is Giallo is focused: Brody's character, the plot, and even the photography by Frederic Fasano is clean and well-lit, so the viewer misses little of the action. There are no audacious compositions and even the subjective dream sequence only has a tilting camera effect. After La terza madre (2007), Argento's film feels even more conservative and mechanical. Despite the fact that this is a Dario Argento film (of whom I am a huge fan), I am perhaps not the right reviewer for this film. While I admire and very much enjoy both Lambs and Seven, I have seen little of the films made in their commercial wake nor do I watch Crime Scene Investigation-type television shows. Despite the film's director and title, I believe this is the audience for which Giallo is seeking. In fact if it weren't for the film's director, I perhaps never would have seen the film (although Adrian Brody and Emmanulle Seigner are an attraction. They are fine actors, seek diverse roles, and are always interesting to watch. They are both very good in Giallo.) I purchased the Polish DVD of Giallo which is region two and is in anamorphic widescreen. It includes the film's original English audio but has forced Polish subtitles during its play.
In Atacan las brujas, Santo sits in his office, listening to Arturo (Ramón Bugarini) whose lady, Ofelia (María Eugenia San Martín) is beset on all sides by the inequities of Elisa (Lorena Velázquez). Elisa, as Arturo tells Santo, is housing her sister Ofelia, as per their father's last will and testament, in which Ofelia must reside in their father's manor for one year to qualify as a beneficiary; and this condition is making Ofelia feel like a prisoner, under Elisa's spell. Ofelia is having dreams of a coven of brujas, led by Elisa, who want to sacrifice Ofelia to the Lord of Darkness. However, a righteous hero in a silver mask also recurs in Ofelia's dream, and Arturo has paid him a visit, seeking his help. Santo in the pursuit of justice will investigate.
In El hacha diabólica, in a fascinating, recurring theme in El Santo's cinema, Santo's ancestor has created a destiny for cinema's greatest superhero. Back in the day, just a few hundred years, Santo's ancestor was in love with Isabel (Velázquez) and his ancestor had a rival for her love: a man, after he sold his soul to Satan, who would become known as Encapuchado Negro. This rival of El Santo's ancestor would adopt the titular weapon to instill fear in all who came before him, and as long as his black hood remained upon his head, he would never die. Santo's ancestor would put down his sword and adopt a silver mask. Local mystic and wise man, Abraca (Mario Sevilla), tells Santo's ancestor that he will fight only with his fists to combat Encapuchado Negro and his mask will aid him (in the super-power department). Historically, the subsequent proceedings did not go well for Santo's ancestor, but cinema's greatest superhero, El Santo, El Enmascardo de Plata, will prevail when both Isabel and Encapuchado Negro reappear in modern day. 
Both stories in Atacan las brujas and El hacha diabólica are familiar, yet Santo (nor Morales) is deterred: cinema's greatest superhero is going to get into some adventures and dole out some ass-whippings, while Morales spices up the visuals and adds the occasional flourish and sequence. Atacan las brujas has a brilliant one: Elisa enlists the aid of Medusa (Edaena Ruiz), her second, to seduce Santo in pursuit of the Lord of Darkness and evil. Santo is driving in his convertible, with his cape flowing behind him, on a deserted street. Ruiz's Medusa, who would stand out in a crowd, stands alone at the side of the road. Santo stops for her, and she requests a ride to her home. It would be El Santo's pleasure. Upon arrival, Medusa disappears from the passenger seat to (poof!) reappear at the door's threshold. Santo believes this act is curious and merits investigation. Inside the home, specifically Medusa's boudoir, Santo begins to weaken. Medusa has slipped into something more comfortable (itsy-bitsy, teeny-weeny bikini) and is now pouring wine. Cleverly, our hero notes something is amiss: he is being beset by an infernal seduction. (Amazingly, Santo is able to discern between an infernal seduction and a non-infernal one. Most men would succumb easily to the latter and would be defenseless to the former. Not Santo, however.) Santo fights against Medusa's strong spell and is able to destroy the lower half of the boudoir's door and escape.
El hacha diabólica has a complimentary brilliant sequence. Santo learns of his ancestor's history through his friend, Dr. Zanoni. Zanoni has a contraption which will allow its participant to separate his/her soul from its body and transcend it (e.g. go back in time). Of particular note is the vulnerability of the subject while inside the contraption. Dr. Zanoni while operating the machine is also vulnerable. Both Santo and Dr. Zanoni don electric head gear and sit before a beeping-lights, electric-wire box in the center of the room. Santo gains all of the knowledge needed, and his soul then returns to his body. With his soul and body reunited, Santo is now invulnerable, again. Encapuchado Negro only then takes this opportunity to attack Santo. While he is a fierce opponent, Santo defeats him. While this may seem that Encapuchado Negro is extremely adept at inopportune timing, director Morales needed both Santo and Dr. Zanoni to be out of the contraption for an important and dramatic plot revelation. The plot revelation overshadows any deficiencies in strategy (of course).
The rendition of Ofelia's dream sequence to open Atacan las brujas is creative and compelling. Morales adopts a dreamy style with with slow dissolves, shadows, and an effective montage of imagery. The Lord of Darkness is powerful as he appears, standing stoically and ominously. Santo wanders through the brujas' domain as if he is lost in a dream: whatever he encounters, his courage does not waver, and he fights bravely. Morales also uses religious iconography effectively, as well. The image of Santo raising his arms in a cross pose to dispatch his enemies never appears false: the sense that Santo fights for a higher power and is imbued with its energy is genuine. When Elisa and company appear, their compositions are like album covers, each meticulously placed with each actor/actress in a specific pose. Their cosmetic qualities are polarized, and the viewer is looking at their beauty and outfits.
El hacha diabólica sees Santo righting pasts wrongs in pursuit of justice. Above all, Santo's quest is a spiritual one: Isabel's soul, his ancestor's destiny, and the evil of Encapuchado Negro must all be lain to rest for the present world to be right. Morales shoots Lorena Velázquez lovingly (in both films, actually, even when she performs an evil character). Velázquez possesses natural beauty and charisma (she is a notable actress in the cinema of this period), and Morales only has to capture it. With adept shots in Atacan las brujas , Morales focuses on her hypnotic eyes effectively to show her character's sinister qualtiy, old-school style; while in El hacha diabólica, he captures her as tragic and truly vulnerable. Unsurprisingly, Velázquez stands out in both films. For cinema's greatest superhero, El Enmascardo de Plata, the multitude's hero, El Santo, both films show just another day at work for the wrestler: making the world a better place for all.
This anecdote by Rollin about his film, La fiancée de Dracula (2000), is fantastically rich. Within, there is the idea that the film maker is haunted ("for a long time") by images within his dreams. He has rendered this dream in his fiction; and whether the fiction inspired the dream or vice versa is unknown. The image was only "realized," or made true (perhaps), when captured on film. The romantic idea that a whole film could have its impetus in a dream, and the whole film could be created in order to capture this dream image is very Rollin-esque. The "pebbles on the ground" belong undeniably to one of Rollin's favorite cinematic settings, the beach at Dieppe; and his return there to film sequences as in La fiancée de Dracula is unsurprising. Also unsurprising, La fiancée de Dracula is a dream-like film.
The Dieppe sequence, which Rollin describes above, re-creates (or evokes) another sequence from his cinema. Rollin writes, "Again, the screenings were punctuated by laughter and sarcastic remarks. For me the most painful laughter came during the scene on the beach; on the pebbled shore a vampire suddenly emerges from a box. This is one of the most unusual images of my cinema, and despite the whistling and heckling it remains dazzling for me. It's there that true strangeness lies." This description is about a film that he made approximately thirty years earlier, 
All who come in contact with Dracula within La fiancée de Dracula succumb to madness; and the characters who populate this simple narrative, the viewer encounters them in various states of such. The Professor (Jacques Orth), also a medium, and his assistant, Eric (Denis Tallaron) are searching for the legendary Count. The Count is hidden away, seemingly in another dimension, while parallel characters who exist on earthbound planes, such as an ogress (Magalie Madison), a she-wolf (Brigitte Lahaie), and a pale, frail female vampire (Sandrine Thoquet), attempt to keep his location a secret. The key to finding Dracula is through Isabelle (Cyrille Iste) whose location is being guarded also. Isabelle is housed in a convent in Paris by a special order of nuns who are determined to keep Isabelle from uniting with Dracula. Succumbing to madness in a very severe state, the nuns' hold over Isabelle is tenuous. The Professor and Eric attempt to free Isabelle from the convent to find Dracula.
In response to the question, "What influence have the Surrealist artists (such as Dali, Magritte, Trouille) had on the way in which you structure your films," Rollin responds: "Of course, Surrealistic art had a great influence on me. But not only painting. For example in Le Frisson des Vampires, a girl gets out of a clock at the stroke of midnight, this image is a surrealistic composition. The image shot is surrealistic work. Like the collages of Max Ernst, I like to show strange motives, poetry, not gore. I prefer the fantastic, not the gore."
This response by Rollin is compelling (it is taken from a late interview, closer in time to La fiancée's production, in Issue Number Four of Ultra Violent magazine, edited and published by Scott Gabbey, Palm Bay, FL, 2002); and his choice of words, especially "strange motives" is telling. With the motif of Dracula's contact (or influence) causing madness, each character's dialogue moves into Absurdism. The absurdist dialogue against the surrealist imagery is both disorienting and fantastic. Most of the "parallel" characters within the film are examples with Madison's ogress character being a strong one. When the Professor and Eric (and the viewer) first encounter Madison's character, she is being teased at the base of a large tower in a village by the locals. Eric believes with her madness that she is unable to give any helpful information, but the Professor chides him: within her mind, despite the madness, is the key. The professor uses his medium skills to decipher and guide Madison with her words. The image of the young woman, frolicking in madness around the large tower, is another beautiful Rollin composition.
Rollin returns with his clock imagery (even more so in his subsequent La nuit des horloges (2007)); his Dieppe beach imagery; vampires and clowns. But there is also a willfulness, seemingly not apparent in his previous work (save Perdues dans New York (1989) and Les deux orphelines). La fiancée de Dracula feels also less guarded than his previous works. It is as if Rollin is filming truly what he wants regardless of audience reaction. If there is any laughter, perhaps Rollin is fueling it intentionally. The Mother Superior has a notable cigarette lighter in another standout sequence. Along with his willfulness, Rollin is very much playful and poetic with La fiancée; and it's well-worth seeing for Rollin fans.
The first Rollin quote is from an interview included on the region-one Media Blasters/Shriek Show 
Valerie (Andrea Allan) is a very beautiful photographer's model and content with her life. She has a dodgy boyfriend named Terry (Alex Leppard) whom she accompanies on a short road trip to the country just before the weekend. Valerie does not know the trip's final destination and neither does Terry: he is stopping to consult his map, telling Valerie to "shut up," and then winding on into the forestry, each stop ever-so slightly further from the city. Night falls and the fog rolls in, and Valerie tells Terry that she cannot see anything out of the windshield. Terry spies a house and is "dead certain" that it is the location for which he has been searching. Terry is far from certain but it is late and he commits to this location, an uninhabited country house. Terry tells Valerie to wait in the car, and he goes in alone, keeping the house dark while searching. Valerie becomes cold and bored and eventually follows Terry inside. She catches him in the midst of a would-be burglary; but it seems as if Terry's information about the home's contents were inaccurate. Not only is Valerie now angry that Terry brought her along on a burglary but brought her along to the wrong house. Someone enters the darkened home, a couple, and Valerie and Terry hide in a closet. Only two exit the house, Valerie and a black-gloved gentleman.
One of the typical motifs of the mystery/thriller/horror genre is to have the protagonist witness something incredulous (a murder), and then have myriad other characters in the narrative attempt to convince the protagonist that what he/she saw is inaccurate. The narrative (and the filmmaker) then sides with its protagonist and makes him/her the mark for the killer (the viewer also sides with the protagonist). Genre hijinx subsequently ensue. However in The House That Vanished not only are Valerie's friends able to convince her that things are not what they seem but Valerie talks herself into complacency. Fair enough, for she has a good life: she's young, independent, and although not famous nor rich in her career, Valerie, perhaps, is on the brink of getting the next modeling job which will propel her into a more lucrative arena. Larraz fuels his narrative by siding with Valerie; and only visiting the threshold of the sinister to propel his narrative mystery along. The House That Vanished remains unequivocally throughout its duration a genre film. How long Larraz is able to keep the proceedings rational is the trick.
Larraz is somewhat successful in his attempt with The House That Vanished. Terry is immediately established as dodgy. In a brilliant scene, Terry drops his child off at his mother's home and wants to give him a gift for the weekend. Terry asks Valerie for a fiver and then beams a smile at his son that he's given him such a kind gift. After the weekend burglary sojourn, are you surprised dear Valerie that Terry has pulled a flit? Terry will eventually turn up. Several characters appear in the narrative, the would-be classic "red herrings;" however, Larraz shapes them to be a little strange but no more than that. One of Valerie's friends is introduced sleeping in her birthday suit only to be awakened by her pet monkey. Now read that sentence, again. Valerie's friend has a pet monkey. That is weird. However, Valerie's friend is presented, despite this quirk, as overall a very normal and comforting person. So when the would-be "red-herrings" appear, each can have a strange quirk, and Valerie can rationalize it: her boyfriend and friends are a little kooky, so why cannot the rest of the general public be a little weird?
Larraz is very adept at creating a languid pace infused with a strong atmospheric presence. His later film, perhaps under-appreciated today, Symptoms (1974), is strong evidence. Larraz is also equally adept at creating lurid sequences, usually involving sex, violence, or both. Vampyres is strong evidence of the latter. His adeptness at creating both stems from his undeniable talent; and his fan attraction comes from thrill-seekers seeking one or the other but rarely both. The inclusion of the extremely effective lurid sequences within The House That Vanished undercut his technique with his mystery, keeping appearances as rational as possible. The lurid sequences are too nasty and too well-rendered to be ignored. Larraz wants his viewer to sym/emphathize with Valerie; yet when the viewer encounters these sequences, the exploitative feel is overwhelming. The languid-paced atmosphere is punctuated far too loudly. The House That Vanished performs a schism. The authors of 
If both the languid and the lurid were not so creative and effective, perhaps The House That Vanished would be, overall, more effective for viewers. If one were played down, the other could dominate, and most viewers could easily categorize and subsequently digest the film. Visually, Larraz is without equal in his unique images. For example, Valerie's escape from the house during the first act leads her to hide in a scrapyard. It looks like an auto graveyard (to borrow a phrase from Iggy Pop) and has an odd theatrical feel combined with some real tension, as the black-gloved killer goes searching for her. My favorite scene is (unsurprisingly) a quiet one, where Valerie enters the lobby of her apartment building. The lobby is dark but she ignores it and walks upstairs. The camera lingers in the darkness slightly too long. A door opens giving the darkness little light, so Larraz can capture a shadow in the midst of complete darkness. An obscure film.
Or does it matter? In Ruggero Deodato's Uomini si nasce poliziotti si muore (Live Like a Cop, Die Like a Man) (1976) in the director's signature style, there is a lot of immoral fun to be had by its characters while their director seeks an amoral tone with his film. This is an extremely judgemental description of the film, and perhaps totally inaccurate. The inclusion of Lovelock's ballads within the film were, according to Deodato, to soften the tone of the film. The tone of the film is what? Violent? "It was very violent, perhaps too violent" says Lovelock in retrospect. Al Cliver was offered a role in the film by Deodato who had previously appeared in his Una ondata di piacere (Wave of Lust) (1975) but declined the role after reading Fernando di Leo's script, because it was "too bloody, too violent. Both the dialogue and the action." (Cliver would not turn down a subsequent Di Leo script with I padroni della città (1976).) In addition to Lovelock's ballads, Deodato added light-hearted scenes to soften the violence and to give the film a cop-film feel, like American ones such as Bonnie and Clyde (1967). Silvia Dionisio appears as a secretary in Live Like a Cop, and she has a lot of fun keeping Porel's Fred and Lovelock's Tony at bay: fun flirting in mock adversarial positions. Deodato even exercised restraint by toning down the violence in a particularly nasty scene where Bibi Pasquini (Renato Salvatori) has one of his henchmen remove the eye of a drug-addicted debtor. Deodato said he filmed the eye being pulled from the victim's socket and then in close-up, filmed the eyeball being squished under foot. Deodato admits the scene is still violent in its cut form.
Save Deodato's one act of restraint in excising his cinematic violence, the violence in Live Like a Cop, Die Like a Man remains, only to be softened by its director. Deodato admits: "It's a cop film that I made and got to make my own personal decisions." Like his screenwriter Fernando di Leo, Ruggero Deodato loves being playful (even dangerously so) and combined with his undeniable creative talent, it is this playful, irreverent attitude which makes his cinema so compelling. Uomini si nasce poliziotti si muore (Live Like a Cop, Die Like a Man), Deodato's sole entry into the 1970s crime genre, is amongst one of his best works and one of the best films of that genre.
The punchline to the first paragraph above is the absence of three important facts: Fred and Tony are police officers (of a "special squad" which officially doesn't officially exist); the men that the two kill are known criminals about to commit a heist; and the heist is never executed. One could argue that the five slain would-be thieves are guilty of conspiracy to commit robbery at the time of their death but then, one would have to answer the question: why does no police officer identify himself and arrest them? Or the moral perspective, did the crime of conspiracy merit an on-the-scene killing? Any viewer can play with those questions and come up with an answer. The facts that remain from within the film unequivocally lead to this answer: Fred and Tony are two criminals, with a propensity for violence, with badges.
The opening ten minutes of Live Like a Cop are famous for its motorcycle chase (exciting and brilliantly filmed by Deodato) but the events that prompt the chase and the events which occur after the chase are the incendiary ones. A woman exits a bank with a satchel handcuffed to her wrist. Two thugs on a motorbike attempt to snatch the satchel and make a quick getaway. The woman victim is dragged, and her head lodges into a metal pole. Still not deterred, the thug gets off the bike and begins violently pulling her arm to free the satchel, eventually stomping her head. The thugs flee without the satchel. Fred and Tony witness the crime. Motorcycle chase ensues. At the conclusion of the chase, one criminal gets impaled in a crash and dies which prompts a smirk from Lovelock's Tony. Fred attends to the other thug who was thrown from the motorbike. Although severely injured, the criminal is still alive...but not for long, as Porel's Fred snaps his neck with his hands. The impetus crime and the chase result are mirror images: criminals committing crimes in different societal roles. 
The talent on both sides of the camera shines. Marc Porel and Ray Lovelock are damn sexy men giving fantastic performances in an arrogant yet coy style, infusing their characters' attitudes. Gorgeous Silvia Dionisio beams with her smiles in a small, scene-stealing performance. Her sister, Sofia, steals her only scene with Porel and Lovelock later in the film. The best two performances with characters with the richest complexity are Adolfo Celi, as Fred and Tony's boss, and Renato Salvatori, as Bibi Pasquini, the crime boss that Fred and Tony chase in Live Like a Cop's main narrative. Two veteran actors at the top of their game. Di Leo delivers another acid-tongued, smart-aleck script and Deodato executes. Like most of Deodato's cinema, Live Like a Cop is still powerful and incendiary today. Is being bad this much fun? I wouldn't know, but Live Like a Cop, Die Like a Man certainly is. The film is available on 
In Santo en El tesoro de Drácula, Santo debuts his latest invention to the scientific community. His invention is a contraption which allows a human subject to travel into the past and enter into a previous life. Thus, the belief in reincarnation is a strong presumption in its genesis and a serious limitation to the time travel. Once the human subject has successfully entered into his/her past life, then it may assume that life for a preset duration. When the human subject returns to his/her own present life, all observations and knowledge gained from the previous life will remain with the host. Santo believes the opportunity and the quest for knowledge outweighs any inherent dangers in the contraption. It has not yet been tested. The scientific community meets Santo's invention with ridicule. Santo is not deterred and is prompted to test the device. However, any human subject runs the extreme risk of irreparable psychological damage upon re-entry, and male subjects are particularly susceptible. Female subjects possess a four-times greater chance of resisting damage during re-entry. Santo must operate the machine from present day to ensure its success, so he is not a suitable candidate. So his girlfriend, Luisa (Noelia Noel) volunteers. Love it.
In Santo el enmascarado de plata vs los villanos del ring, Santo has a goddaughter, María Elena Ramos (Silvia Fournier) who is engaged to Rodolfo (Wolf Ruvinskis). Santo has raised this wonderful young woman and has given the couple his blessing. However, Santo has promised María's paternal grandmother, Doña Teresa Ramos (Consuelo Frank), on her deathbed, the opportunity to speak with María (from whom she is estranged) and make her peace. María and her grandmother meet. Doña Teresa Ramos apologizes to Maria for not giving approval to her parents' marriage. Shortly after she gave her disapproval, the couple died in an automobile accident. Would she forgive her grandmother? Yes. María's grandmother dies within minutes after her confession. In her will, she leaves María millions of pesos. Enter Francisco Iglesias and here's his grift: Iglesias runs a "spiritual center" where he hosts seances for the spiritually inclined. Doña Teresa Ramos was a member of the center, and during the last seance, she appeared from beyond the grave and requested to speak to her granddaughter. María and Rudolfo attend the latest seance and María's grandmother appears, requesting that María give half of her inheritance, approximately three million pesos, to the spiritual center, so she may find peace in the afterlife.
Both films become more wonderfully complex, incredulous, and intriguing. Back to Luisa in Santo en El tesoro de Drácula, who has made the successful leap back into time (about a hundred years) with Santo's invention. Luisa is in a distinguished manor where her father is a nobleman. In this new past life, Luisa's friend has recently died from mysterious recurring bouts of blood loss, despite receiving regular transfusions to increase her health. Enter Professor Van Roth (Fernando Mendoza), a physician and family friend, who is now treating Luisa for the same symptoms. Enter, also, nobleman Count Alucard (Aldo Monti) who intends on frequenting the villa to ensure that Luisa's treatment is going well. Professor Van Roth thinks the Count is suspicious. Two guesses as to whom the Count really is and one of them is probably right. The Count makes a nocturnal visit to Luisa and intends to make her one of his brides. Back at his crypt, with the las muerjes vampiro, the Count shares a secret to Luisa: the Count holds an opulent treasure. The secret is inscribed upon his medallion and his ring. The holder of both, and only with both, knows the location of the treasure. Before Luisa is inducted into las muerjes vampiro, Professor Van Roth enters with mallet and wooden stake. Santo transports Luisa back to present day, and she recovers.
How is Francisco Iglesias in Santo el enmascarado de plata vs los villanos del ring able to perform his con? A diabolical yet seemingly cost-ineffective scheme. First, he has his beautiful assistant pose as a nurse in a hospice environment where she gains the confidence of the patient. The nurse's mission is to surreptitiously place a tape recorder within the room and record the voice of the soon-to-be-deceased. That's it, her whole mission. The voice recording is needed for Iglesias's other assistant, a master impersonator, who is able to hear any one's voice and duplicate it. After the death of the patient, the corpse is removed after burial. Another of Iglesias's crew makes a mold of the corpse's face and a latex facsimile of the deceased's face is made. With the reproduction of both the voice and the face of the deceased, a seance is performed with the mark in attendance. The duplication of the deceased requests peace in the afterlife for a nominal sum donated to the spiritual center. Awesome.
Now for reviewer confession: unless you possess the joie de vivre which is El Santo cinema, then beyond their conceptions, both films move into the utterly familiar in subsequent execution. However, Santo el enmascarado de plata vs los villanos del ring boasts a very high quantity of action. Unfortunately, for the overwhelming majority of El Santo cinema, regardless of who is at the helm, fight sequences are shot static, as if the viewer is a ringside viewer at a wresting match. This reviewer could watch El Santo, El Enmascarado de Plata, the multitude's hero, do laundry, however. The wonderful flourishes often carry the films. For example in los villanos del ring, Santo calms everyone by telling them that he will consult his criminal files to uncover the identity of the perpetrators. Santo holds a small stack of files approximately three inches in height. Is cinema's greatest superhero only keeping tabs on supervillians? Has Santo rid the city of the majority of crime, and his files represent what is left? Is Santo only now creating files for criminals as a signal for a new direction in crime-fighting? I live for these questions. For more discerning viewers, I hope reading these descriptions were as fun as I had writing them.