Spanish horror films were enjoying a boom in the early 1970's, thanks to the international success of La Marca del Hombre Lobo (a.k.a. Frankenstein's Bloody Terror) (1967) starring Paul Naschy. De Ossorio's first feature effort in the genre, Malenka (Fangs of the Living Dead) (1969), was noted for starring screen siren Anita Ekberg. Two years later he initiated the Knights Templar series with La Noche del Terror Ciego, known in the U.S. as Tombs of the Blind Dead.
On vacation in Portugal with her friend Roger Whelan (Cesar Burner), Virginia White (Maria Elena Arpon) is reunited with former roommate Betty Turner (Lone Flerming), with whom she had a lesbian affair while in boarding school. Uncomfortable with the reunion, Virginia hops off the train and seeks shelter for the night in the ruins of a medieval village, Berzano. Tragically for the young woman, Berzano is also the resting place of the undead Knights Templar, who rise from their graves that night and kill Virginia. When her mutilated body is discovered, Roger and Betty team up with a smuggler (Joseph Thelman) suspected of the crime to discover if there is any truth behind the terrifying legends that surround the old monastery.
As the first entry in the series, Tombs of the Blind Dead has the advantage of freshness and novelty that the sequels inevitably lack. The chief attraction is the ghoulish Knights themselves. Unlike George Romero's fresh-from-the-morgue zombies, the Templars are desiccated and decayed, with skeletal hands that grope for victims and empty eye sockets shrouded under moldering monks' hoods. True nightmare visions, they are memorable additions to horror cinema's gallery of monsters. Unfortunately, their slow, shuffling walk-they make Universal's Kharis look like an Olympic sprinter-tends to slow the pace of suspense scenes and leads to contrived situations in which characters who should be able to escape by just walking briskly find themselves surrounded or cornered. (Predictably, women in the films are forever breaking their high heels while trying to flee.) Curiously, one of the Templars' most unique characteristics-their use of sound to hunt victims-is underexploited throughout the series.
It's unfortunate that de Ossorio's script doesn't create engaging characters for his monsters to menace. Motivations are generally vague or nonexistent. Virginia's decision to hop off the train never feels like anything but a device to set the story in motion, and the alliance between Roger and the smuggler Pedro is absurd. Worse still, the story feels padded. Many sequences drag on too long; others go nowhere. Halfway through the movie Virginia returns from the dead and stalks Betty's assistant Nina (Veronica Llimera). On its own, the scene is effective, with Bavaesque lighting, creepy makeup and good staging, but the sequence doesn't really connect with the rest of the movie-the plot thread of Virginia's resurrection is quickly dropped, and we never see Nina (a very minor character) again. The film hits a low point when de Ossorio adds an ugly, gratuitous rape scene far more disturbing than any of the zombie attacks.
Blue Underground's DVD of Tombs of the Blind Dead contains both the original Spanish version (with removable subtitles) and the U.S. cut, which excises the most extreme violence and shifts a flashback to the beginning of the film. The Spanish version boasts a bright, colorful 16 x 9 (1.66:1) enhanced transfer that should please most fans, although on large monitors it becomes apparent that excessive Digital Video Noise Reduction was applied. The image looks too smooth and processed, and not very film-like. During rapid motion, fine detail tends to blur into digital mush. The mono soundtrack is fine for a low budget film from this era, effectively conveying Anton Garcia Abril's creepy musical score and the carefully crafted layers of sound effects, probably influenced by de Ossorio's years working in radio. The transfer of the U.S. version is inferior in all respects, with a softer, less colorful image. Extras include a U.S. trailer, a gallery of posters and stills, and the hilarious prologue to an alternate U.S. version called Revenge From Planet Ape that tries to link the film to the then-popular Planet of the Apes series.
In horror movies, the vengeful dead rarely rest for very long, and de Ossorio's Templars returned two years later in El Ataque de los Muertos Sin Ojos, a.k.a. Return of the Evil Dead. In this sequel, the monks rise from their grave to take revenge on the villagers of Bouzano, whose ancestors blinded them and put them to death in the 15th Century. After most of the villagers are slaughtered, a small band of survivors barricade themselves inside a church, but tensions within the group threaten their survival almost as much as the sword-wielding zombies that wait outside.
The bloodiest of the four films, Return of the Evil Dead devotes too much of its running time to rehashing scenes from the first installment. The second half borrows liberally from Night of the Living Dead, with a group under siege boarding up windows for defense, using fire to fend off the zombies, making desperate dashes to try to reach a car, etc. (The Birds also appears to be an influence.) Overall the film is competently crafted exploitation fare, but sorely lacking in originality. The most memorable sequence is one of the least sensationalistic, a quietly tense scene of the hero (Tony Kendall) rescuing a young girl and slowly realizing that the Templars have used her to bait a trap.
As with the first film, Blue Underground offers separate 16 x 9 (1.66:1) enhanced transfers of the Spanish and American versions. Surprisingly, the American version looks moderately better, with a brighter image, less grain and superior shadow detail. This is sure to frustrate fans, most of whom will prefer to watch the Spanish version for the additional gory footage. The image on the Spanish version isn't bad, but the soundtrack is more problematic. It has a very limited range, with a slightly tinny quality and a low buzz that is audible during quiet passages; it sounds as if a poor optical track may have been the source. Extras consist of Spanish and U.S. trailers and a gallery of stills and posters.
The legend of the Flying Dutchman served as the inspiration for the next entry in the series, El Buque Maldito, a.k.a. The Ghost Galleon (1975). A model (Blanca Estrada) and a starlet (Margarita Merino) piloting a new boat in the Atlantic as a publicity stunt disappear after radioing in reports that they are lost in a mysterious fog and have encountered a centuries-old sailing ship. A rescue party fails to find the girls but does locate the mystery ship, a cursed vessel bearing the Knights Templar that wanders the seas, preying on lost travelers. Trapped on board with no place to run or hide, the group must confront the zombies and find a way to return home.
In spite of a novel setting and some new fantasy elements being added to the formula (a scientist believes the ship exists in another dimension), The Ghost Galleon is the weakest of the four films. The initial plot setup-beautiful girls sent to the middle of nowhere to generate publicity-is ridiculous, the pacing is painfully slow, the characters are mostly unsympathetic, and the scarcity of bloody death scenes will disappoint gorehounds. The model used to depict the cursed ship in long shots may be charitably described as inadequate, and is certain to prompt more chuckles than shudders. De Ossorio claimed he made the film out of pressure to deliver another sequel, and even he was disappointed with the tepid results.
The DVD of The Ghost Galleon includes the uncut version with English credits and a choice of English or Spanish soundtracks. The 16 x 9 (1.85:1) transfer is perhaps the best in the set, with satisfying color and a sharp, detailed image, even in the myriad fogbound scenes. Both mono soundtracks are fine. In addition to the usual trailer and still gallery, the disc includes a TV spot and two radio spots.
In the final film of the series, La Noche de Las Gaviotas, a.k.a. Night of the Seagulls (1976), Dr. Henry Stein (Victor Petit) and his wife Joan (Maria Kosti) move to a remote seacoast community where the populace greets them with open hostility. Before long, the doctor uncovers the horrible truth: every seven years, for seven nights in a row, the town offers virgins to the undead Knights Templar, who sacrifice them to their hideous idol. Disrupting the ceremony, Stein incurs the wrath of the Templars, and to survive he and his wife must find a method of ending the monks' reign of terror.
With its isolated, secretive community involved with the worship of a monster-god, Night of the Seagulls is clearly influenced by the work of H. P. Lovecraft. Unfortunately, this is about the only innovation brought to the now-tired formula. The horror scenes dully repeat situations (and even some footage) from the earlier films, offering nothing new. Much screen time is devoted to Dr. Stein and his wife trying to uncover the town's secret, forcing viewers to wait impatiently for the heroes to discover what we already know. The beach setting is meant to be desolate, but it's actually rather picturesque and fails to create the desired mood. All in all, the film is a routine effort and a forgettable end to the series.
The DVD of Night of the Seagulls includes a fine, attractive 16 x 9 (1.85:1) transfer of the uncut version, again with English credits and a choice of English or Spanish soundtracks. The first beachside sacrifice has a greenish hue to it, but this appears to be deliberate. A trailer and gallery of stills and posters are included.
The coffin-shaped box for the set includes the four films in individual keep cases, a 40 page booklet and a fifth bonus disc in a "slim case." The bonus disc includes a 25-minute documentary on de Ossorio's career originally created for Spanish television ("Amando de Ossorio: The Last Templar"), an 11-minute video interview with de Ossorio ("Unearthing the Blind Dead") and a 4-page tribute article from Shivers magazine in pdf format.
Blue Underground has done a fine job bringing the Knights Templar series to DVD, and for devoted Eurohorror fans, The Blind Dead Collection is certain to be one of the highlights of the year. With a price tag of $99.95, more casual fans would be well advised to rent one or two of the titles before deciding whether to invest in the set.
For more information about The Blind Dead Collection, visit Blue Underground. To order The Blind Dead Collection, go to TCM Shopping.
by Gary Teetzel
