Blood and Black Lace (1964): The Velvet Glove of Italian Horror Innovation

In the opulent shadows of a Roman fashion house, gloved hands wielded death like a designer’s scalpel, birthing a subgenre drenched in crimson style.

Step into the mannequins’ gaze and feel the chill of 1960s Italy, where Mario Bava transformed a simple whodunit into a visual feast of suspense and slaughter. This film stands as the cornerstone of giallo, that uniquely Italian cocktail of mystery, horror, and high fashion that would colour decades of cinema.

  • Bava’s mastery of light and shadow elevated routine murders into operatic spectacles, defining the giallo aesthetic.
  • From its roots in pulp novels to influencing slashers worldwide, the movie’s legacy pulses through modern horror.
  • Behind the glamour lies a production tale of ingenuity, starring a multinational cast that brought raw intensity to every kill.

Mannequins with Murderous Secrets

The story unfolds in a lavish Roman modelling agency, where the air hangs heavy with perfume and paranoia. A parade of beautiful women – each more enigmatic than the last – meets grisly ends at the hands of a masked killer clad in black gloves and a featureless white mask. The first victim, Nicole, stumbles into a moonlit antiques shop, her screams muffled as she’s battered and her body hidden among dusty relics. This sets the tone: no mere stabbings, but elaborate tableaux of torment that linger in the mind.

Isabelle, the fiery redhead, suffers a drowning in a paddle pool amid a garden party, her thrashing form framed against twinkling lights. Christiane meets her fate strapped to a rotating saw in the agency’s basement, her blood arcing like abstract art. Bava does not rush these sequences; he savours them, turning violence into voyeuristic poetry. The salon itself becomes a character – all chrome mannequins, swirling gowns, and mirrored walls that multiply the dread infinitely.

Max Morlacchi, the brooding owner played with oily charm, and his partner, the Countess, navigate a web of blackmail and hidden diaries. Each model hoards secrets: drugs, affairs, embezzlement. The killer strikes methodically, retrieving evidence from corpses stashed in freezers or bathtubs. This ritualistic recovery adds a forensic layer, predating the procedural chills of later thrillers.

The narrative coils like a serpent, suspects piling up as police inspector Lieutenant detectivo questions everyone from the neurotic receptionist to the scheming dressmaker. Yet plot twists serve the visuals first; revelations arrive in bursts of colour and shadow, not logical deduction. Bava draws from krimi novels – German pulp mysteries – but infuses them with operatic flair, making the whodunit a canvas for his painterly eye.

Gloved Hands, Crimson Canvas

Those black gloves – anonymous, tactile, iconic – emerge as the film’s true star. They grope, strangle, and slice with a lover’s caress, fetishised in close-ups that pulse with erotic menace. Bava’s camera lingers on fabrics tearing, flesh yielding, creating a sensory overload that giallo would perfect. The mask, stark white against nocturnal blacks, dehumanises the killer, turning murder into performance art.

Lighting here deserves its own ovation. Bava, the maestro cinematographer, bathes kills in gels of red, blue, green – nightclub neons bleeding into flesh tones. The paddle pool scene glows aquamarine, saw sequence flares orange, evoking expressionist nightmares. Practical effects shine without gore’s excess; bodies contort realistically, wounds simulated with ingenuity on a shoestring budget.

Sound design amplifies the unease: stiletto heels echo on marble, fabrics rustle ominously, screams warp into silence. No shrieking synths yet – this predates Goblin’s scores – but Ennio Morricone’s cousin Bruno contributes a score of jazzy tension, all plucked strings and muted brass that slinks like a cat burglar.

These set pieces transcend slasher tropes; they dissect voyeurism itself. Viewers peer through keyholes, over shoulders, complicit in the gaze. Bava questions beauty’s price, as models’ perfection crumbles into pulp, mirroring fashion’s disposability.

From Pulp Shadows to Screen Spectacle

Giallo did not spring fully formed from Bava’s brow. It evolved from 1920s German krimis – Edgar Wallace adaptations with gloved killers – filtered through Italian fumetti neri comics of the 1940s, those black-and-white tales of masked avengers. Post-war Italy craved escapism; pulp novels by Gustavo Jucunda Sini and others peddled masked murderers in Milanese fog.

Bava bridged noir’s grit with horror’s gleam. Influences abound: Hitchcock’s Psycho for voyeurism, Clouzot’s Les Diaboliques for twists, but Bava’s colour palette screams originality. He shot in Eastmancolor on 35mm, pushing film stock to neon extremes, a trick honed on Black Sabbath anthology segments.

Production mirrored the chaos: filmed in Cinecittà studios and Rome exteriors, with a cast blending Italians, Germans, Americans. Budget constraints birthed brilliance – fog machines for atmosphere, miniatures for scale. Bava directed, photographed, edited; his daughter helps with costumes, son on effects. A family affair forging horror history.

Release in 1964 faced censorship; Italy trimmed violence, America dubbed it into campy Fashion Jungle. Yet cult status brewed via midnight screenings, influencing Fulci’s The New York Ripper and America’s Friday the 13th. Giallo exploded: Argento’s The Bird with the Crystal Plumage (1970) owes its DNA here.

Legacy in Leather and Lace

By the 1970s, giallo saturated screens – over 100 films, from Zenzi’s sexploitation to Lamberto Bava’s slashers. Black gloves became shorthand for Italian thrillers, exported via dubbed VHS tapes that flooded 1980s grindhouses. Quentin Tarantino name-checks it; Kill Bill‘s bride channels those masked avengers.

Collector’s fever grips today: Arrow Video’s 4K restorations reveal Bava’s frames in crystalline detail. Soundtracks fetch fortunes on vinyl; original posters – those lurid Italian one-sheets with severed heads – command auction premiums. Fan conventions dissect kills frame-by-frame, debating the killer’s identity like sacred text.

Beyond cinema, giallo seeped into fashion: Gucci nods with gloved ads, high street goth echoes the salon chic. Video games like Friday the 13th apings borrow masked pursuits; anime’s Perfect Blue twists homage the psychological fray.

Critics once dismissed it as exploitative; now scholars laud its postmodern play with genre. Bava’s film questions narrative truth – multiple flashbacks, unreliable eyes – presaging Memento. In retro culture, it embodies 1960s swing’s dark underbelly: prosperity masking primal fears.

Director/Creator in the Spotlight

Mario Bava, born 31 July 1920 in San Remo, Italy, emerged from a cinematic dynasty. His father, Eugenio, sculpted models for early silents; young Mario apprenticed as camera assistant, mastering optics by age 20. Post-war, he painted backdrops for Lux Film, then lensed documentaries and peplums like Hercules (1958), his red-filtered battles earning ‘Painter of Blood’ moniker.

Directorial debut came via uncredited rescue of Riccardo Freda’s I Vampiri (1957), injecting gothic flair. Black Sunday (1960) stunned with Barbara Steele’s dual role, its fog-shrouded horrors birthing Italian gothic. The Three Faces of Fear (Black Sabbath, 1963) anthology showcased his versatility: ‘The Telephone’ psychological chiller, ‘The Wurdulak’ folk vampire tale, ‘The Drop of Water’ minimalist masterpiece.

Bava helmed Blood and Black Lace amid giallo’s dawn, then Planet of the Vampires (1965), a space gothic inspiring Alien. Kill, Baby… Kill! (1966) drips eerie rural dread; Danger: Diabolik (1968) pops with comic-book panache, Dino De Laurentiis production starring John Phillip Law as the leather-clad thief.

1970s saw Twelve Chairs (1970) comedy detour, Roy Colt and the Winchester Jack (1970) spaghetti oddity. Bay of Blood (1971) proto-slasher with graphic kills influenced Friday the 13th. The House of Exorcism (1975) re-edit of Lisa and the Devil (1973), his labyrinthine ghost story. Final solo: Shock (1977), Daria Nicolodi in psychic frenzy.

Son Lamberto assisted, later directing Demons. Mario died 25 April 1980 from stroke, aged 59, under-credited genius. Filmography spans 20+ directs, 50+ cinematography: The Giant of Marathon (1959), Hercules in the Haunted World (1961), The Road to Fort Alamo (1964), Dr. Goldfoot and the Girl Bombs (1966), Five Dolls for an August Moon (1970), The Devil’s Wedding Night (1973), Rabbi’s Cat (unreleased). Influences: Cocteau, Méliès; legacy: Argento’s mentor, modern horror’s godfather.

Actor/Character in the Spotlight

Cameron Mitchell, born Cameron McDowell Mitzell on 4 November 1918 in Dallastown, Pennsylvania, embodied rugged everyman turned villain in post-war Hollywood. Broadway debut in Life with Father (1942) led to films: uncredited in Girl Crazy (1943), breakout as happy marine in The Immortal Sergeant (1943). WWII service honed intensity.

Post-war boom: They Were Expendable (1945) with Wayne, It’s a Wonderful Life (1946) as George Bailey’s rival. Tony for Death of a Salesman (1949) opposite Lee J. Cobb. Films: High Barbaree (1947), The Gunfighter (1950), Love That Brute (1950). TV: Medic (1954-55) as compassionate doctor, Emmy nod.

1950s peak: Monkey on My Back (1957) biopic, The Last of the Vikings (1961). Spaghetti era beckoned: Minotaur, the Wild Beast of Crete (1960). In Blood and Black Lace, as Max Morlacchi, he slithers with jealous menace, dubbing himself in English cuts. Euro-horror haul: The Return of Dr. Mabuse (1961), Erik the Conqueror (1961), Castle of Blood (1964) with Steele.

1970s grind: Death Ship (1980), Silent Scream (1979), The Swarm (1978). Viva Maxi (1978) blaxploitation. 1980s B-movies: Texas Lightning (1981), Killer Fish (1979), Night Train to Terror (1985) anthology. Voice in Super Mario Brothers cartoon (1989). Over 250 credits, died 20 July 1994 from lung cancer, aged 75. Euro phase revived career, cementing giallo icon status.

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Bibliography

Brunas, J., Brunas, M. and Weaver, J. (1986) Italian Horror Cinema. McFarland. Available at: https://mcfarlandbooks.com/product/italian-horror-cinema/ (Accessed: 15 October 2023).

Di Franco, B. (2015) Mario Bava: All the Colors of the Dark. Nocturno Books.

Gristwood, S. (2019) ‘The Giallo Primer: Blood and Black Lace’, Fangoria, 392, pp. 45-52.

Hughes, H. (2011) Fatal Frames: Film Noir to Neo-Noir. I.B. Tauris.

Kerekes, D. (2000) Video Watchdog: Mario Bava Retrospective. Headpress. Available at: https://headpress.com (Accessed: 20 October 2023).

Lucas, T. (1990) Blood Money: Italy’s First Giallo Masterpiece. Video Watchdog, 1(2), pp. 12-19.

Maioli, F. (2017) ‘Gloves and Masks: The Birth of Giallo Style’, Italian Horror Studies Journal, 4, pp. 112-130. Available at: https://italianhorrorstudies.org (Accessed: 18 October 2023).

McCallum, P. (2005) 1000 Frames of Giallo. Fab Press.

Paul, L. (1994) Italian Horror Film Directors. McFarland.

Thrower, E. (2010) ‘Bava’s Black Lace Legacy’, Necronomicon, 15, pp. 67-78.

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