I corpi presentano tracce di violenza carnale (Torso) (1973), directed by Sergio Martino, contains some bold artistic choices by its creative collaborators.
First, who is the main character? There are only two characters within Torso who give a persuasive answer to this question: Jane, portrayed by Suzy Kendall, and Dani, played by Tina Aumont. For the viewer who has seen Torso subsequent to viewing slasher films, such as John Carpenter's Halloween (1978) and its progeny, then intuitively, Jane is the main character. She holds a very iconic position within the third act. However, if Torso is viewed as a mystery or more specifically, a giallo (which its first half certainly appears to be), then Dani is the main character. Dani is the one character who has seen the mysterious killer within the film, and the killer knows it. Hence, the viewer intuitively knows that Dani is the next prospective victim for the killer. In the most uninteresting way, minutes on screen can determine who is the main character, and even a by a few seconds, the viewer can determine its protagonist. Even if Torso does not have a main character, it is not a film driven by an ensemble cast. Some characters are red herrings for the mystery, some are eye candy, and some serve plot devices, such as a victim for a brutal killing, for example. By and far, Torso is a plot-driven film, rendered creatively in sequences with different characters, like a collage.
One of the boldest and most creative moves by Martino and company within Torso occurs at the halfway mark in its violent shift in setting. The expansive setting within the city, which houses the university where Jane and Dani attend, is removed to a villa secluded atop a hill, overlooking a small village below. This one change in setting completely fractures the narrative of the film. The isolated villa with Dani and her two friends, Ursula (Carla Brait) and Katia (Angela Covello), kills any of the mystery within Torso. The narrative becomes focused on this small group of characters at the setting, and the viewer knows as these characters unwind and relax (the narrative also unwinds and relaxes), the more likely they are to become victims of the killer. To be fair, it is fairly obvious to identify the killer by deduction right before the beginning of the third act, so it did not seem that Martino nor his co-screenwriter, Ernesto Gastaldi, really saw this fracture in the narrative as a deficiency in their plot. By the way, when the killer's identity is revealed and in the classic moment where the killer reveals his/her motive, it is truly irrelevant to whom the killer is revealing.
Torso has an interesting history. Adrian Luther Smith, author of Blood and Black Lace: The Definitive Guide to Italian Sex and Horror Movies, writes: "The American release proved to be extremely popular on the drive-in circuit and along with Bava's A Bay of Blood probably had a significant part to play in the development of the stalk 'n' slash genre." (p.120, Stray Cat Publishing Ltd., England, 1999.) Craig Ledbetter, editor of European Trash Cinema, writes, "Like most Americans, I first saw this on the lower half of a double-bill with The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. While the former went on to fame and fortune, poor Torso still gets no respect. The ironical thing is that "Society" would have you believe that TCM was the goriest of the two, NOT!" (European Trash Cinema, Vol. 2, No. 6, Kingwood, TX, 1992.) The authors of Violent Italy, Daniel Dellamorte and Tobias Petterson, write: "His [Martino's] last giallo, Torso, is mostly remembered for its brutality. None of the previous leading actors [from his previous gialli] take part in this film and it is obvious that Martino had lost interest in the genre at this point. The film lacks the flair and visual style that is so evident in his previous films, and he left the genre for other projects." (p.43, Tamara Press, Malmo, Sweden, 2002.) (Interestingly, the Violent Italy authors note that the giallo peaked in 1972 with twenty two released in theatres in Italy (p.39). According to the IMDb, Torso was released in Italy during the first week of 1973.)
If Torso is truly influential upon the subsequent slasher genre, then it is not solely because of its brutality but also its boldness and creativity. As to whether its boldness and creativity was borne from hearing the death knell of a dying genre and attempting to be as shocking and provocative as possible to draw in the genre's last viewers is unknown. Torso is, however, a terrific film and like a lot of Martino's cinema, it is beautifully and elegantly photographed (by Giancarlo Ferrando) and populated with beautiful people. By far not a shy film, Torso is very provocative and very playful. In a wonderfully lurid sequence, Carol, friend and classmate to Jane and Dani, portrayed by Conchita Airoldi, upon hearing of the murder of her friend, becomes overwhelmed with both fear and grief. She takes a ride from the open-air piazza at the university with two friends to a dingy den somewhere in the city to get high. Carol wants some comfort; her two friends want to sleep with her; and Martino has a beautiful and scantily-clad woman dancing alone in the center of the den. After a fairly bold composition of the woman dancing, Carol tires of her two friends' fondling and she bolts from the den. Martino gets a laugh from the viewer when one of Carol's shunned suitors stupidly crashes his motorbike into the mud. Poor Carol, both dejected and disoriented, continues into the ash-colored and mud-soaked forest alone, where Martino delivers one of his most effective atmospheric sequences. It becomes quite brutal as well. Like most of Torso, there is no consistency in tone to the sequence, but this lack of consistency is not borne from carelessness but playfulness. Torso is daring, perhaps in its creative impetus but definitely in its execution. A personal favorite. Ernesto Gastaldi's contribution cannot be overstated: his screenplay is essential to Torso's success. Gastaldi's body of work is astounding, and he deserves wider praise in subsequent entries. The music by Guido and Maurizio De Angelis is an excellent accompaniment.
First, who is the main character? There are only two characters within Torso who give a persuasive answer to this question: Jane, portrayed by Suzy Kendall, and Dani, played by Tina Aumont. For the viewer who has seen Torso subsequent to viewing slasher films, such as John Carpenter's Halloween (1978) and its progeny, then intuitively, Jane is the main character. She holds a very iconic position within the third act. However, if Torso is viewed as a mystery or more specifically, a giallo (which its first half certainly appears to be), then Dani is the main character. Dani is the one character who has seen the mysterious killer within the film, and the killer knows it. Hence, the viewer intuitively knows that Dani is the next prospective victim for the killer. In the most uninteresting way, minutes on screen can determine who is the main character, and even a by a few seconds, the viewer can determine its protagonist. Even if Torso does not have a main character, it is not a film driven by an ensemble cast. Some characters are red herrings for the mystery, some are eye candy, and some serve plot devices, such as a victim for a brutal killing, for example. By and far, Torso is a plot-driven film, rendered creatively in sequences with different characters, like a collage.One of the boldest and most creative moves by Martino and company within Torso occurs at the halfway mark in its violent shift in setting. The expansive setting within the city, which houses the university where Jane and Dani attend, is removed to a villa secluded atop a hill, overlooking a small village below. This one change in setting completely fractures the narrative of the film. The isolated villa with Dani and her two friends, Ursula (Carla Brait) and Katia (Angela Covello), kills any of the mystery within Torso. The narrative becomes focused on this small group of characters at the setting, and the viewer knows as these characters unwind and relax (the narrative also unwinds and relaxes), the more likely they are to become victims of the killer. To be fair, it is fairly obvious to identify the killer by deduction right before the beginning of the third act, so it did not seem that Martino nor his co-screenwriter, Ernesto Gastaldi, really saw this fracture in the narrative as a deficiency in their plot. By the way, when the killer's identity is revealed and in the classic moment where the killer reveals his/her motive, it is truly irrelevant to whom the killer is revealing.Torso has an interesting history. Adrian Luther Smith, author of Blood and Black Lace: The Definitive Guide to Italian Sex and Horror Movies, writes: "The American release proved to be extremely popular on the drive-in circuit and along with Bava's A Bay of Blood probably had a significant part to play in the development of the stalk 'n' slash genre." (p.120, Stray Cat Publishing Ltd., England, 1999.) Craig Ledbetter, editor of European Trash Cinema, writes, "Like most Americans, I first saw this on the lower half of a double-bill with The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. While the former went on to fame and fortune, poor Torso still gets no respect. The ironical thing is that "Society" would have you believe that TCM was the goriest of the two, NOT!" (European Trash Cinema, Vol. 2, No. 6, Kingwood, TX, 1992.) The authors of Violent Italy, Daniel Dellamorte and Tobias Petterson, write: "His [Martino's] last giallo, Torso, is mostly remembered for its brutality. None of the previous leading actors [from his previous gialli] take part in this film and it is obvious that Martino had lost interest in the genre at this point. The film lacks the flair and visual style that is so evident in his previous films, and he left the genre for other projects." (p.43, Tamara Press, Malmo, Sweden, 2002.) (Interestingly, the Violent Italy authors note that the giallo peaked in 1972 with twenty two released in theatres in Italy (p.39). According to the IMDb, Torso was released in Italy during the first week of 1973.)If Torso is truly influential upon the subsequent slasher genre, then it is not solely because of its brutality but also its boldness and creativity. As to whether its boldness and creativity was borne from hearing the death knell of a dying genre and attempting to be as shocking and provocative as possible to draw in the genre's last viewers is unknown. Torso is, however, a terrific film and like a lot of Martino's cinema, it is beautifully and elegantly photographed (by Giancarlo Ferrando) and populated with beautiful people. By far not a shy film, Torso is very provocative and very playful. In a wonderfully lurid sequence, Carol, friend and classmate to Jane and Dani, portrayed by Conchita Airoldi, upon hearing of the murder of her friend, becomes overwhelmed with both fear and grief. She takes a ride from the open-air piazza at the university with two friends to a dingy den somewhere in the city to get high. Carol wants some comfort; her two friends want to sleep with her; and Martino has a beautiful and scantily-clad woman dancing alone in the center of the den. After a fairly bold composition of the woman dancing, Carol tires of her two friends' fondling and she bolts from the den. Martino gets a laugh from the viewer when one of Carol's shunned suitors stupidly crashes his motorbike into the mud. Poor Carol, both dejected and disoriented, continues into the ash-colored and mud-soaked forest alone, where Martino delivers one of his most effective atmospheric sequences. It becomes quite brutal as well. Like most of Torso, there is no consistency in tone to the sequence, but this lack of consistency is not borne from carelessness but playfulness. Torso is daring, perhaps in its creative impetus but definitely in its execution. A personal favorite. Ernesto Gastaldi's contribution cannot be overstated: his screenplay is essential to Torso's success. Gastaldi's body of work is astounding, and he deserves wider praise in subsequent entries. The music by Guido and Maurizio De Angelis is an excellent accompaniment.
By this point in his career, Delon was developing his own projects and he reunites with screenwriter, Christopher Frank (who penned the previous Parisian crime thriller with Delon, 
The simple missing-person case doesn't stay simple in Pour la peau d'un flic, as it grows much wider in scope, implicating a bigger conspiracy, only growing slightly incredulous at times. Delon's Choucas enlists his good friend, Haymann (Michel Auclair) to help him in the investigation when Choucas becomes a target himself. The two veteran French actors feel like close friends, and the intimacy the two share is genuine. The majority of their scenes are dialogue,as each bounces ideas and questions off the other as to how to proceed in the investigation. Then there are really clever scenes with the two, as when Choucas has a subdued suspect before him, he tells Haymann to get a hammer. Haymann just slightly nods, well-familiar as to what Choucas is going to do to the man. When Choucas has a gun pointed at him and looks as if his adversary has the upper hand, it is Haymann who pops in right on time in aiding Delon's character.
The real attraction besides Delon, in my opinion, in Pour la peau d'un flic is the character Charlotte, Choucas's secretary, played by Anne Parillaud. About a decade later, she would blow cinema's door off the hinges in Luc Besson's nearly pitch-perfect La Femme Nikita (1990). Her screen presence is quite powerful, and one gets the impression while watching Pour la peau d'un flic that she is underused, despite appearing in nearly the entire picture. The romantic subplot involving Delon and Parillaud is well developed, as the events become more intense in the picture, the two begin to reveal their feelings for each other. A lot of the humor in the film comes from these scenes, and unfortunately her character's English-dubbing (of the version that I saw from an HK DVD) is terrible and most of it is lost. Delon adeptly knows how charismatic and beautiful the young actress is and doesn't spare her close-ups. Parillaud is a fantastic actress and she brings more energy to the film than the action scenes. The classic romantic comedy is dated, yet both Delon and Parillaud are able to carry it with their charisma and chemistry alone.
I've seen seemingly a million crime films, and despite the familiarity of the narrative of Pour la peau d'un flic, I really cannot tire watching Delon acting super cool and taking on the bad guys. Even dubbed in English, when he makes smart-aleck remarks during a high-speed car chase, Delon is cool. When sitting in a cafe and having coffee and smoking Gitanes, Delon is cool. He's so cool that he cast this beautiful young actress in a small and welcomed part:
Pour la peau d'un flic shows a lot of the magic of the waning days of this cinema. A must-see for Delon fans (and Parillaud fans and don't be surprised when it's her that stays with you after viewing). 
Director Bennati penned the script of L'assassino ha riservato nove poltrone with Paolo Levi and Biagio Proietti, set in a single location with ten characters. Patrick is quite correct when he says that each character has a motive for murder: nearly every one is either related to, romantically involved, or in financial debt/dependence to Patrick. Hence, since every one is a potential killer (at least until becoming a victim), most are depicted as passive/aggressive or contemptible people. While motives are essential for murder mysteries, watching these characters bicker and backstab (metaphorically) for ninety minutes is far from entertaining; so this familiar plot gets one interesting and unfamiliar addition, a supernatural element, and the sensational elements of the script get pushed to the foreground. L'assassino ha riservato nove poltrone is a fairly successful mix of classical mystery and 70s-style sex and violence. 
One of the notable features of L'assassino ha riservato nove poltrone is the inclusion of several notable actresses of the period. Janet Agren appears as Kim, a would-be actress and fiance of Patrick, who every one knows is marrying Patrick for his money; Paola Senatore is Lynn, Patrick's daughter who in initial scenes appears as if she has romantic feelings towards her father; and Lucretia Love plays Doris, who is involved in a romantic relationship with Patrick's sister, Rebecca (Eva Czemerys). Bennati goes to some lengths in depicting Doris and Rebbeca's relationship as not only secret but also very taboo and decadent. In addition, all the actresses mentioned perform at least one nude scene, and of the actresses mentioned, those who are victims suffer more terribly as the film progresses. The first murder in L'assassino ha riservato nove poltrone is less graphic and ornate than the subsequent one, as the murders increasingly become more brutal and contrived. 
Bennati does not rival his script, despite any attempts to do so, with his sensational scenes in L'assassino ha riservato nove poltrone. Rather, the sensational scenes afford a more judicious use of character-driven scenes, keeping the bickering and backstabbing to a minimum. By far not a character-driven film with depth, there is enough background to each character to keep the viewer intrigued. Among the sex and violence and exposition, Bennati, to his credit as each are quite effective, is able to compose more than one odd and unreal sequence. One of the ten characters is named, at least in the English-dubbed version, "the man in the Nehru jacket" (Eduardo Filipone). None of the other characters knows who he is, and when he appears, his character brings an appropriate theatrical feel to the film as his dialogue feels scripted. It is not as if his dialogue feels contrived but rather when he speaks it feels as if he knows something about someone or something is about to happen. Keeping the theatrical motif, Bennati lets "the man in the Nehru jacket" serve as a sort-of commentator on the drama, as from some classical Greek play. Very nice. It is always welcome when a character takes a violent shift in character by performing some nonsensical, non-violent act: subsequent to a murder, which intuitively one would think would instill grief or some accompanying emotion, Senatore's Lynn takes a moment in a dressing room for some disrobing and dancing. At a couple of minutes, the scene goes on too long for the narrative, but Bennati uses multiple angles to lovingly capture the actress. The scene is not completely sensational and has little narrative weight. Just disorienting and lithe. L'assassino ha riservato nove poltrone benefits from these scenes' inclusion.
Carlo Savina delivers a beautiful score, a mix of funky-70s and classical composing. The film was shot by Giuseppe Aquari, and he captures the classical mix of old-school mystery and 70s sensationalism: the authentic theatre location goes a long way in creating its own atmosphere. It is a beautiful location and has enough claustrophobic settings and shadows to create its own tension and fear. Beyond that, Aquari shows an adept eye at the subjective, giallo-style P.O.V. from both victims and killer. There are classically-composed shots from wide, medium, and close-up angles side by side with more innovative camerawork, like his handheld shots. Low-budget and certainly now obscure, L'assassino ha riservato nove poltrone benefits from its talent and energy, focused and directed for its duration.
During the first act of Los asesinos de otros mundos, the machine-gun-toting criminals attempt to lift some contraband from a parked plane on a runway. Both well-armed and well-numbered the criminals begin to remove their booty, while Santo hides in the cargo area of the plane. The cargo hold is tight and cramped, and Santo is able to funnel most of the criminals into the small space for a beating. Santo eventually takes the fight from the plane to the runway, giving everyone a beating until the boss decides to flee in his vehicle. Santo stands in the way of the criminal boss's oncoming car and waves his arms but is subdued. Having hit our hero with a large vehicle, rendering him unconscious on the runway, the boss points a gun at his head. With one bullet, the world could topple with the death of Santo.
However, in supervillain fashion, one bullet is cinematically boring, so a contrived and cinematically sublime death scenario is envisioned. Los asesinos de otros mundos moves to another setting, another planet, where Santo is greeted by the supervillain at his throne. Santo, unarmed, is forced into gladiatorial combat with two really big dudes with medieval armory and weaponry. Santo has no fear and dispatches one, and another one appears. After Santo thwarts both opponents, the supervillain summons Santo's final opponent: a large man in a hazmat outfit armed with a flamethrower. As opposed to the previous two opponents, this one is state of the art and this character is where director Galindo impresses. While nearly everything during this sequence is theatrical, (the painted walls of starry space, the dirt ground arena mimicking the surface of another planet, the gladiator apparel and weaponry, and the supervillain throne) the final opponent looks both alien and familiar. While I assume safety guidelines were strictly adhered on the set and camera tricks employed to create tension, when the final opponent fires real streams of fuel and fire at Santo, it is quite scary. Santo, in rare fashion, displays a modicum of fear: I would not be surprised with every tumble he took, Santo hoped if an accident did occur, then his wrestling gear was flame-retardant. 
El tesoro de Moctezuma is late-60s spy cinema. Santo has a partner, the extremely handsome Jorge Rivero. Santo and Jorge perform the duties of one secret agent, but each character has to be present to perform the respective secret agent duties: Santo is both the muscle and the brains, while Jorge seduces the women. That's not an entirely fair description as Jorge does help with strategy, and Santo, I'm certain, was grateful for his help. That description of the two's duties is more or less apt. In a standout sequence, Jorge brings his lady to a bullfight, and the two are notable guests, as the matador greets them. The bullfight ensues, and during his date, Jorge notes the gentlemen with sunglasses and suits around the bullpen look suspicious. Jorge leaves his date to investigate. The gentlemen in suits and sunglasses pull their pistols and are going to kill Jorge. Jorge runs around the arena, firing the occasional shot at the bad guys, but he is outnumbered and takes a bullet in the shoulder. Santo appears, unarmed (and in a very stylish turtleneck sweater), and gives a beatdown to the bad guys. Above the bullpen, Santo lifts one of the gentlemen in a suit and sunglasses and raises him in the air. Santo tosses him into the bullpen, and the man is trampled and gored by a bull. Santo saves Jorge, and with a bullet in his arm, Jorge returns to his date. This scene is representative.
When Santo finishes his gladiatorial combat in Los asesinos de otros mundos, despite the drama, the film more or less ends midway. A new supervillain appears, who dominates his subjects with neckbands and can explode them on command, and Santo still has to save the word but has a more immediate task: helping gorgeous Karen (Sasha Montenegro) and her scientist father, Dr. Bernstein (Carlos Suárez). The one constant in the narrative, besides Santo, is the blob. The blob is menacing, and in the film's opening sequence, it looks unstoppable. With accompanying throbbing audio, the blob absorbs its victims. On the street or in the comfort of the bedroom, no one is safe. One could say it looks like a cover of latex rubber with five or six people underneath, decorated to look like a chocolate malt, but I'm not. Interestingly, Santo cannot dispatch the blob with his hands and must use his cunning to subdue it. 
El tesoro de Moctezuma has a beautiful sequence, shot very well by both Cardonas, at an Aztec pyramid. The authentic location provided quite the background for Santo to give the villains an ass whipping. Structurally, the Aztec pyramid has several levels, creating steps to its top; and it provides an excellent opportunity for Santo to pick up an opponent and throw him to his death. I seriously cheer whenever Santo performs this move in combat. Rivero is a nice addition to the film: he's good-looking and brings a youthful energy. All the sexy sequences with the actresses are welcome. In a humorous and clever flourish, the Cardonas have Santo and Jorge meet two beautiful twins in very different scenarios. Both Santo and Jorge hold one of the twins in his arms, simultaneously, yet events leading up to this act are radically different for both. El tesoro de Moctezuma has some wonderful compositions and is well-paced and exciting. 
Both films in El Santo fashion, two out of three falls, end in a draw. Too much infectious fun. And a blob.
It's curious as to whether Jean Rollin read this passage and was inspired:
Those "people and places who figure in his own universe" literally populate one of Rollin's latest films, La nuit des horloges (2007). A young woman, Isabelle (Ovidie) is like one of the hypothetical viewers referenced above: her cousin, a film maker named Michel Jean, has recently died. She knows little of the man personally. The two separated when she was very young. Now a grown woman, Isabelle sits near the entrance to a railway tunnel, reading her favorite book, when a character from one of Michel Jean's films appears to her. Isabelle begins a journey to discover what kind of artist her cousin was and to discover who he was as a person. During her journey, characters from his films continue to "pop up," and tell Isabelle about the film maker.
One of the most striking sequences occurs at a burned forest setting where Isabelle encounters a character played by Sabine Lenoël. Where is this place? asks Isabelle. The "burned forest" setting is one where the film maker always wanted to film but was unable to. The setting is striking natural scenery. Isabelle, through the grandfather clock at Michel Jean's home in Limoges, visits another location which Rollin himself identified as a place where he hoped to film in "his next film." (identified in his interview included as a supplement on the Media Blasters/Shriek Show 
While the meta elements are cleverly rendered into La nuit des horloges, this is by far not a post-modern attempt by Rollin to be self-referential and hip (which is seemingly annoying the majority of film viewers these days). During my first viewing, La nuit was quite disorienting: seemingly part of its design was to be strange and that was not lost on me. During a second viewing, I was struck by how melancholy the film was. A particularly affecting scene occurs with Isabelle and a genuine actor from one of Rollin's (or Michel Jean's) "lost" films. The actor, who is quite perfect in the film, is either generating true emotion felt by his lines and/or giving a very emotional performance. The emotion is very much present not only in the scene but in the overall film. This is not to say La nuit is depressing as a lot of the nostalgia and its positive energy is on display. Isabelle encounters another actress from Rollin's cinema in her bedroom at the maison in Limoges. Her performance is emotional also, but it is quite obvious her roles in Rollin's cinema were memorable and perhaps not tinged with any sadness.
Ovidie is a notable figure in current French cinema and its culture, and she deserves wider discussion in subsequent entries. During my second viewing of La nuit, I was struck by how similar she is to Brigitte Lahaie in many of her memorable performances from Rollin's cinema. Like Lahaie, Ovidie is an extremely beautiful and sensuous woman who conveys a powerful sexuality but who is also able to convey a real sense of innocence and shyness simultaneously. Her performance is essential to the success of La nuit. La nuit des horloges is available on region two DVD from German label, X-Rated, and has French audio with optional German and English subtitles. It's anamorphic widescreen and has chapter stops and nine trailers from the label's other releases (including some Rollin ones). I purchased the disc from retailer, 
Urueta doesn't need a traditional narrative for El poder satánico, but it has one. Viewing it as a collage piece is a better experience, made up of song-and-dance sequences, seduction sequences, Satanic sequences, wrestling matches, and Blue Demon sequences. El poder satánico resides in a character portrayed by charismatic and legendary actor, Jaime Fernández. From his jail cell, he smiles and is later buried by the hands of justice in a nondescript plot in the cemetery. Cut to modern times, as the hands of thievery are digging his grave whereupon the true poder satánico reveals itself and Fernández's character rises. It's not long before he dons a cape and finds a cobwebbed mansion with Gothic trimmings, but he doesn't behave in the traditional way a caped figure in a Gothic residence should behave. A young couple is walking in arms in a forest, clearly infatuated with each other, when Fernández's character encounters them. With the tight close-up upon the eyes, el poder satánico works its magic. The young man is killed (upon whose coffin Blue Demon sheds tears, giving him a personal stake in the administration of justice); and the young woman is captured by the power. Back at the Gothic residence, with his captive under his spell, Fernández's character seduces the woman twice and then leads her to a chamber, a homemade crematorium where she is burned alive. The satanic smile from Fernández's character returns.
In Arañas infernales, Curiel allows the aliens to invade right at the beginning and unlike Urueta, lets Blue Demon beat up bad guys and save the world. Blue Demon serves up justice, initially, in his athletic, fist-pummeling style. Beset by an alien immobilization attack, Blue Demon and his associates are seized, whereupon two alien henchmen in human form, donning black capes which are glittered with a spiderweb design, move into dispatch the group. Blue Demon sheds his cape and gives the two a beatdown. As most residing on Earth are apt to do, the aliens have clearly underestimated Blue Demon's power. Their strategy changes with some experimentation until deciding upon imbuing a wrestler with superhuman strength to enter the ring and take down our hero. This alien incarnation looks the part, glittery headband, shiny armbands and belt, and flowing cape; and appears credible in combat: as when he initially enters the wrestling arena, three wrestlers are sparring and a promoter is present. The alien wrestler asks to get into the promotion and challenges all three wrestlers as an audition. It's an impressive display, and soon Blue Demon is pencilled as his opponent. During their match, the likes of which pay-per-view has never seen, Blue Demon takes to this chump. Slowly, Blue Demon in a strategic move, works over his right arm. The human hand of the alien incarnation, as he is losing the match, begins to grow hair on his right hand. Blue Demon suppresses him with his athletic ability, and the alien incarnation shows its true form: his right hand takes the form of a spider. He enters the ring, and the crowd rushes for the exits, screaming. Blue Demon, the courageous hero, doesn't waver but is ready to serve up the final stage of his ass-whipping.
Virtually all Blue Demon action sequences within El poder satánico take place within the ring. Blue Demon's battle against Fernández comes in the form of academic study: Blue Demon is seen primarily behind his desk with a large, ancient tome in his hands. Urueta's compositions of Blue Demon at study are either haphazard (showing a careless attitude towards the production) or playfully brilliant: striking images, giving the superhero an Edgar Allen Poe-ish air who faces dark demons from legend. The actual wrestling sequences within both films actually reappear in both. El poder satánico features one match, two out of three falls, with Blue Demon winning two, but it's the same sequence shot in two different ways (perhaps this is lifeless carelessness from Urueta, but the end result is a disorienting, deja-vu effect). Santo makes a cameo appearance in El poder satánico, shaking Blue Demon's hand in the dressing room; and the viewer also gets to witness a Santo wrestling match, re-used from a Santo film from the period. Blue Demon is not the vehicle who drives the narrative of El poder satánico, but like all the sequences, he is driven by the images, as a powerful inclusion: a aong-and-dance sequence allows Fernández to seduce the singer, giving an opportunity for Gothic and satanic seduction which fuels Blue Demon who eventually has to end the evil character. Undeniably, Blue Demon is the vehicle and true savior within Arañas infernales (literal English title, Hellish Spiders), and the film could have benefitted from more indulgent, atmospheric, and/or surrealistic sequences (like its fantastic final ten minutes). Arañas infernales boasts a tried-and-true formula, has an absence of cinema's greatest superhero, El Enmascarado de Plata, El Santo, and benefits from showing Blue Demon as a great cinema superhero, himself, in his solo battle against the alien-cum-spiders. Long live Blue Demon.