Elizabeth (Erna Schurer) travels with her fiancée Jack (Roland Carey) to her uncle’s creepy old castle after the passing of
the old man, but someone doesn’t want her to stick around for too long.
Ferrucio Casapinta’s La
Bambola Di Satana (aka The Doll of
Satan) is a gothic mystery in a quasi-giallo mold. The castle provides an appropriately spooky
setting, perhaps one of the most essential of all gothic elements. Said castle has a dungeon with mannequins
occupying its requisite torture devices (it was a “museum” according to sexpot
governess Carol [Lucia Bomez],
though it’s about as effective in that regard as the display cases at a
carnival freak show, maybe less). It has
a ghost story running through it in classic Scooby
Doo fashion (again, maybe less). It
has black-hooded malcontents skulking about and knocking off people. Like many gothic fictions, the film relies on
the mood created by the locale rather than anything generated by its story. There is innate menace in the stones of
medieval architecture, and the filmmakers try to capitalize on this.
Since the story is not actually
set in the past, our main characters are modern in dress and manner. Jack doesn’t just have a car, he has a little
two seat convertible (I couldn’t tell you the make and model). Carol doesn’t care for these youngsters
coming to the castle. She believes that
all young people want to do is get hopped up on goofballs and party (or
something). There is an intersection and
conflict, then, between the present and the past at work to some degree in the
film. Carol represents the old,
Elizabeth the new. For example, there’s
some discussion about wiring (maybe it was re-wiring) the castle, a suggestion
at which Carol scoffs (please note, this is also about as interesting as most
of the conversations in this film get).
Sir Balljanon (the uncle) lived in a castle but was doing research on
Uranium. There are scenes of the local
teenaged fauna dancing to groovy pop music at the local café. Contrarily, for as much as Carol puts on the
air of a stuffy, Victorian governess, when the glasses come off and the teddy
goes on, she becomes much less repressed (she’s also into some BDSM
action). It’s a commonly held belief
that gothic stories are about repression and the desire that must boil up over
it, and that’s certainly present here.
Interestingly, it’s the film’s
representation of sex that stands out even more than any mystery or gothic
elements. As to the aforementioned teens
(who have absolutely no bearing on the narrative, despite the length of time we
dwell on them), the camera leers at the girls shaking their moneymakers in
their tweed, knee-length skirts (in fact, it tilts down and holds on their
lower halves). Elizabeth’s friends,
Gerard (Giorgio Gennari) and Blanche
(who have absolutely no bearing on the narrative, despite the length of time we
dwell on them; are you noticing a trend yet?), sleep together in one bed (we
don’t know their marital status, but let’s assume for the sake of argument that
they’re unmarried). By contrast, and more
importantly, Elizabeth and Jack not only sleep in separate rooms, but there’s also
the intimation that Elizabeth is a virgin, and they’re saving it up for
marriage. Out of everyone in this film,
these two are the most traditional (you could call them out of date) in their
perspective on sex. If anything, they
are tied more closely to the creaky, old castle and what it represents than
anyone else. They belong at the castle,
despite their trappings of modernity. By
that same token, Elizabeth is the only person who gets naked on screen multiple
times. It’s as if the filmmakers want us
to lust for this woman specifically (actually, they want us to lust after all
the women in the film [with the possible exception of Blanche], though the
focus is on Elizabeth) because of her chastity.
It’s sort of a Madonna-whore complex going on, which is why Elizabeth is
also the only character who has sex on screen.
That this is a hallucination/dream points back to the clash between old
and new attitudes, as it symbolizes Elizabeth’s desire for sex in spite of her
physical denial of it. Because the
audience is invited to watch for titillation indicates a subversion of her
traditional outlook, a vicarious deflowering of Elizabeth, if you will, and a
quasi-condemnation of archaic sexual mores.
So, let’s get down to brass
tacks. La Bambola Di Satana is lackluster in just about every way (or at
least in all the ways that count). The
compositions are standard fare that even the castle’s interiors can’t quite manage
to spruce up. The score is unmemorable,
as are the characters (Carol is the only one who generates any kind of
interest, but that’s more for the straitlaced/sex kitten dichotomy she has
going on, which is also sadly more teased than pleased). The film brings up points and then completely
forgets about them rather than capitalizing on them. Chief among these is the inclusion of
Jeanette, the sister who has gone insane and now spends her time taking up
occupancy in Elizabeth’s old room and making faces at her dolly. Even after Jeanette witnesses something
fairly early on, it has no consequence on anything. Mr. Shinton, Sir Balljanon’s research partner
has papers that Elizabeth needs to see, but, to my recollection, that’s where
the reference to them ends. Even the
subplot involving “starving artist” Claudine (Aurora Bautista), which should have had a huge impact on the story,
just piffles along and comes to an undistinguished end. The nail in the proverbial coffin, however,
is the constant repetition of dull scenarios that stop the story dead and then
bludgeon it a bit longer for good measure.
There are at least half a dozen scenes of characters eating (mostly at
the castle, but sometimes at the café), so they can deliver dialogue that is
neither expository nor revelatory (okay, sometimes there’s a little exposition,
but not much). Further, the multiple
scenes of the teens dancing at the local hangout serve less than zero
purpose. I take that back. They show us that there is a character
hanging out eating in the background, and we know he must be important for two
reasons. One, none of the youngsters
mean fuck all to the film. Two, he’s always
lounging in the background of the cafe while extraneous characters writhe about
in the foreground, sucking up the viewer’s attention. Needless to say, his part to play in this
whole affair is yet another misfire in a film that unfortunately is more fizzle
than steak.
MVT: The castle is a decent
setting for the film, but I’m just going to be honest and give it to Ms. Bomez.
Make or Break: The first
café dance scene dropkicks the film’s narrative right in the head. The problem is, it takes a few moments for
the viewer to realize how utterly useless this scene is in spite of the fact
that there’s so much attention paid to it (and one girl in particular, who I
expected to play some larger role; she did not).
Score: 5/10
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