Jean Brismée’s THE DEVIL’S NIGHTMARE probably remains one of the more widely-seen Euro Gothics, no thanks to a number of shoddy budget-priced releases that haunted both DVD and VHS bargain bins for years. At long last, this wonderfully atmospheric film makes its much-anticipated worldwide HD debut, thanks to the efforts of Mondo Macabro. As expected, it’s another stunner among MM’s long line of superb releases.
Berlin, 1945: World War II—economically and efficiently depicted using grainy newsreel footage, which actually works well in the film’s opening black-and-white sequence—is drawing to a close. At his chateau, Nazi General the Baron Von Runberg (Jean Servais) eagerly awaits the birth of his child, only to be left deeply disturbed when his first-born turns out to be a girl. This, due to an age-old familial curse, would bring dire misfortune to those of his bloodline. In one of the film’s oft-censored scenes, the Baron goes on to kill his peacefully sleeping newborn child with a bayonet…
Following this grim opener, the action moves ahead to then-present-day of 1971. A young reporter is murdered on the grounds of the Baron’s vast estate shortly after enquiring about his family’s long-standing malediction (“It seems some sort of curse has plagued my ancestors for many centuries…”), an incident which happens to coincide with the arrival of a busload of tourists looking for shelter. Surreptitiously guided to the castle via a road closure by a strange, emaciated man (Daniel Emilfork) with a devilish smile, the tourists are given a chilling welcome as Hans (Maurice Degroot), the Baron’s servant, relates a number of gruesome murders that have occurred within the castle’s long and varied history, brought about by the Runberg curse. Later that night at dinner, the Baron tells of his ancestor Siegfried von Runberg, who, in the 12th Century, signed a pact with the devil, for which, in exchange, the eldest daughter of each successive generation of Runbergs are destined to serve Satan as a (quote) “kind of succubus”; a revelation which not only explains the events of the pre-credit sequence, but concludes with the mysterious arrival of a certain Lisa (Erika Blanc) on the very anniversary of this pact. Representing each of the seven deadly sins, the guests are, in due course, led to perdition as they succumb to temptation, until an aspiring junior priest (Jacques Monseau) amongst the group attempts to bargain with the devil himself in exchange for releasing their captive souls…
Alongside Emilio P. Miraglia’s memorably-titled giallo THE NIGHT EVELYN CAME OUT OF THE GRAVE (1971), this remains one of Erika Blanc’s most well-known roles. She commands the screen both with her ravishing beauty and her memorably sinister, demonic appearance. Blanc’s transformation from an impossibly gorgeous woman into a spine-chilling, ashen-faced succubus involves ingeniously simplistic yet brilliant use of makeup and some impressive camerawork from DP André Goeffers, and it’s a real testament to what wonders can be achieved with so little. Set amidst the Baron’s impressive baroque castle (“With that rain outside, this castle is spookier than ever!”), this perfect Gothic locale is, much like Lisa herself, also a harbinger of death. Early in the film, a chunk of the centuries-old castle’s façade—part of one of the gargoyles adorning its walls—breaks loose and almost kills one of the newly-arrived guests when it falls; a moment which neatly foreshadows the creepy supernatural events yet to come. A dungeon-set laboratory (wherein the Baron practices alchemy in his spare time) and a room filled with medieval torture implements also add some threatening ambiance for the film’s delightfully quirky characters to wander about in, whilst Alessandro Alessandroni’s lush and unforgettable score keep things moving along very nicely indeed.
THE DEVIL’S NIGHTMARE has had a long and tumultuous history on home video, which began during the ’80s VHS boom, where it usually turned-up retitled as THE DEVIL WALKS AT MIDNIGHT from such cheapo American labels as Regal Video and Saturn Productions, as well as the Toronto-based skid-row outfit Interglobal Home Video, the latter of which released a crummy censored print recorded at the cost-cutting LP (“long- play”) speed. Applause Video also issued it as SUCCUBUS in a slightly different cut, but the best of the bunch was Monterey Home Video’s big box edition under its original export title of DEVIL’S NIGHTMARE. In 1998, together with Nigel Wingrove’s British imprint Redemption Films, Image Entertainment released a quartet of Euro horror / sleaze titles simultaneously onto DVD and VHS, one of which was DEVIL’S NIGHTMARE. Struck from an Italian print, it was, for the time, a very handsome release indeed, which not only reinstated the film’s original 1.66:1 framing (unfortunately, it was non-anamorphic, though), but also restored a long-unseen lesbian tryst between Ivana Novak and Shirley Corrigan as well. The film’s U.S. TV spot was the only extra included on the disc, but as an added bonus, it also contained an alternate Italian audio track, which featured a more full-bodied musical score, but not surprisingly, this alternate track did not include any English subtitles. Countless DVD bootlegs from the likes of Brentwood, Diamond and Platinum soon followed, but the less said about these, the better.
It was a long time coming, but Mondo Macabro finally issued this Gothic favourite onto Blu-ray in a brand-new 2K scan taken from the film’s original camera negative, and once again it’s shown in its original 1.66:1 aspect ratio, but MM’s Blu-ray is a significant upgrade in every way, featuring beautiful, rich colours and picture-perfect, well-defined detail, a major upgrade which instantly renders the two-decades-old previous DVD obsolete! In an interesting discrepancy between Image’s DVD and MM’s new Blu, the film’s 1945 Berlin opening, which was presented in sepia tone on Image’s DVD, is now in black-and-white, and truth be told, it plays much better this way, which better incorporates all the newsreel footage. The English LPCM audio sounds clear and robust, but as an added—and very welcome—bonus, MM have also included the film’s original French-language audio track with optional English subtitles, which turns out to be far more refined and easier on the ears.
The extras begin with an enthusiastic audio commentary from author and film historian Troy Howarth, who goes on to cover plenty of ground, including discussing many of the film’s principal cast and crew; some of the film’s unique (quote) “murder set-pieces”; the dearth of Belgian horror films (“There tended to be a kind of snobby attitude about actually making such films…”), as well as the present film’s interesting production history. Howarth also reveals how THE DEVIL’S NIGHTMARE served as one of his introductions to Euro Cult cinema back in the ’80s and, despite his “misgivings” about some of the film’s padding, he readily admits it still moves along quite quickly, with some of the dialogue scenes even revealing some (quote) “wit and sparkle”.
Further extras include a trio of on-camera interviews, beginning with director Brismée (32m40s), who discusses his involvement in the production through producer Charles Lecocq, a former student at INSAS, a subsidized Belgian film school which Brismée himself co-founded. He has fond memories of his directorial debut, and also mentions French cinematic stylist André Hunebelle’s (1896-1985) brief stint as a “technical advisor” on the film (he was on the set for just one day!). In the next interview (23m04s), assistant director and 2nd unit director Robert Lombaerts goes on to talk about his introduction to the film while working in television (“TV was pretty routine”), and due to DP Goeffers running behind schedule, he was promoted to 2nd unit director and put in charge of shooting the lesbian scenes with Novak and Corrigan; he also discusses the shoot’s Tournai location; how well the film sold all over the world (“You’re never recognized in your own country!”), and the how set designer Jio Berk was (quote) “very creative”. In the third interview (28m53s), experimental filmmaker Roland Lethem, whose friendship with Lombaerts allowed him to visit the set, admits he did not have much to do with the film at all (“I was jealous of all those guys!”), but it’s a fascinating interview just the same, in which he discusses his brief time at INSAS; his work as the Brussels correspondent for Midi-Minuit Fantastique (France’s first magazine devoted to fantastic cinema), which led to him befriending maverick Japanese filmmaker Seijun Suzuki after stumbling onto his incredible film GATE OF FLESH (1964); and also his experiences as an experimental filmmaker, a sequence which includes a number of eye-opening clips from his short films. Extras conclude with two English-language export trailers for the U.S. and U.K (which appear identical) and Hemisphere Pictures’ U.S. trailer (“THE DEVIL’S NIGHTMARE will leave its mark on you!”).
Earlier in the year, MM first issued this title in one of their highly-sought-after Limited ‘Red Case’ Editions, whose disc includes the exact same content as the standard release edition, but also included reversible artwork, lobby card reproductions and a terrific, highly-detailed, 10-page booklet on the making of the film, the Belgian film scene of the time and an in-depth look at one of the film’s writers, Patrice Rondard. Unfortunately, this version is now out-of-print. Order the standard edition from DiabolikDVD, Mondo Macabro or for you Canadian readers, Suspect Video.
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