Alternate title(s): Blue Holocaust; Buried Alive; The Final Darkness
Directed by Joe D'Amato (Aristide Massaccesi)
Production Managed by Oscar Santaniello
Written by Ottavia Fabbri (from a story by Giacomo Guerrini)
Music by Goblin
Starring Kieran Canter (Frank), Cinzia Monreale (Anna/Teodora), Franca Stoppi (Iris), Sam Modesto (Cossuto), Anna Cardini, Lucia D'Elia, Mario Pezzin, Walter Tribus, Klaus Rainer, Edmondo Vallini, Simonetta Allodi
Dying of a terminal illness, Anna requests to see her fianc� Frank one last time from her hospital bed. Frank's housekeeper, Iris, passes on the message to him with little haste, affording him precious few last minutes with his lover. When Anna expires in his arms, Frank (an introverted 'hobby taxidermist') determines to keep his beloved with him for all time. Administering an undisclosed injection to her corpse during the course of her body's private viewing, to return the evening of her funeral to exhume her body with view to making her final resting place his inherited country mansion. After interring her corpse, he lays out the deceased Anna on a separate bed in his bedroom, expounding his undying love for her. In the meantime, Iris harbours a deeply obsessive love for the young heir, and local funeral director Cossuto exhibits a more than passing interest in his nocturnal activities. Playing Iris' emotions, Frank begins to vent his necrophiliac lust on live partners which proves the catalyst for a fevered descent into total madness, and ultimately murder.
Often cited as D'Amato's worst film, "Beyond The Darkness" is about as far from that accolade as Peter Jackson's "Bad Taste" is from his recent "Lord Of The Rings: Fellowship Of The Ring". In fact, "Darkness" is one of those films that could easily be termed a 'guilty pleasure' almost solely on its ridiculously trumped up reputation alone. Indeed, this is the film that was a heavy casualty during the great UK 'video nasty' debacle, as being the victim of a rather gregarious smear-campaign that saw a number of journalistic wags citing the film's autopsy and cremation scenes as the real deal. The new Millennium's more sophisticated genre buff will see these scenes for what they are (a clever combination of camera and editing trickery), and discover that prior media hyperbole what not much more than shallow opportunistic tripe. Indeed, D'Amato's pantheon to compulsively obsessive love and associated fetish of necrophilia is not a pleasant film by any stretch of the imagination, but nor is it un-involving or without its merits to enthusiasts of the European genre scene. Additionally, fans of Joe's work will find it much more polished than a lot of his later cinematic (and video-driven) output prior to his passing in 1999.
The film conveys a moribund, compulsive atmosphere that pushes deep into the psychosis of its taboo subject matter with a bold, unflinching eye virtually unseen outside of the Italian horror genre. Canter is undeniably wooden in his performance as the introverted Frank, yet this element manages to work to the betterment of the character, as the axis for said character is one of unblinking, devoted love for his deceased partner. His performance, though flawed, amplifies the obvious detachment, and oblivion, from his surrounds, and more often than not the brutal excesses of his own actions. Stoppi complements Canter with a somewhat understated performance (by her usual standards; see Bruno Mattei's "The Other Hell") that hints at an uncontrollable, obsessive lust that threatens to bubble over into histrionic excess, but never does. Monreale, who would later crop up as blind minion-of-the-dead Emily (under the pseudonym Sarah Keller) in Fulci's "The Beyond" (1981), has little to do but convincingly pass herself off as the prostrate corpse of Anna. Fans will undoubtedly be enamoured to find out that she 'plays' out much of her 'role' naked, provided that is that the 'appearance of death' actually does something for you (?). She does, however, make a final reel appearance as Anna's twin sister Teodora as a catalyst for the grisly climax.
Of the remainder, D'Amato keeps the film moving along at a generous clip, thankfully never straying into celluloid lethargy by injecting a healthy shot of wildly graphic gore when the proceedings intimate that they may begin to flag at any moment. Gore fans will lap up the carnage on offer, comprising the aforementioned nauseatingly lengthy autopsy sequence (achieved largely with close-ups of a pig carcass), as well as eye-gouging, fingernails ripped out with pliers, and a giddily gruesome dismemberment followed by cursory acid-bath antics. Such gory shenanigans are orchestrated with a pulsating score by Argento favourites, Goblin, which surprisingly creates an even more absurd, almost surreal, atmosphere with their juxtaposition of rock stylings against a backdrop of obsessive lust & explicit mayhem. Ripe for rediscovery and re-evaluation, D'Amato's cult gore spectacle may only fall short of a wider following due to its defined brimming over with elements of possessive relationships, darker psychosis, and the implicit implications of its broader undercurrent sexual tensions subtext. Of course, we all know that the 'average gorehound' prefers their 'meat' decidedly asexual and with an element of voyeuristic detachment. D'Amato utilises sex, and its plot-inferred dominance within a relationship, as a springboard for something much darker than most are used to. It is this very core ingredient that sets "Beyond The Darkness" apart from the more 'hallowed ground' of many of its peers. Investigate at your own peril�or delight.
Italian Shock's DVD of D'Amato's necrophiliac opus is presented in a version struck directly from a 35mm print master, and looks appropriately attractive for such (potentially) unattractive subject matter. There are the occasional hints of print damage apparent, but these are few and far between enough to be no major distraction whatsoever. Colours vary between vibrant to minorly washed out (but the 'blood-reds' are always rich!); blacks are never particularly deep, and there is a noticeable amount of film-grain present. However, these elements are more attributable to the shoestring origins of the production, as is the inherent softness of some scenes (complimentary to D'Amato's use of soft-focus lenses). Per his later "Absurd" (1982), lighting and cinematography improve markedly during the film's many gore scenes. Audio is offered in monaural Dolby digital that, while a tad bass-heavy, leaves the dialogue always intelligible as well as servicing Goblin's pulsing score favourably. The audio was relatively clean enough to draw little or no attention to either surface noise or analogue hiss. All up, a nice looking & sounding (non-anamorphic) transfer.
Extra features comprise a lengthy theatrical trailer (almost 3 minutes!), as well as a brief animated Stills gallery encompassing a number of publicity photos & lobby cards all nicely framed by a juicy image from Monreale's autopsy scene. Also included is a Joe D'Amato filmography and replication of the insert booklet's liner notes. My only word of warning here is that these features are animated, and if you're a slow reader then sorry but you're up the creek as there's no facility to pause or step through these features. One attempt to pause the filmography section ended up seeing me returned to the Main menu screen. Although the animation is a nice touch, the return of 'step-through' screens would be a preferred option. Apart from the aforementioned 'animation issue', as well as some rather 'fanboy-style hyperbole' in the D'Amato biography, this is the best presentation of the film I've yet seen.
Review by Mike Thomason
Released by Italian Shock DVD Entertainment |
DVD format: DVD-5 (PAL Region 2) |
Running time - 91m (packaging lists 85m) |
Ratio - Widescreen 1.66 |
Audio - English Dolby digital (optioanl Dutch subtitles) |
Extras : |
Extras - Theatrical trailer; Stills gallery; Director filmography; 4pp-insert booklet |
� 2001, Icon In Black Media
Back