Black Sabbath Review

Charting three supernatural shorts as the best work of Mario Bava is a sickening, underbaked claim. Rabid Dogs left dwindling in the dusty air of its thriller brilliance. Blood and Black Lace snubbed of its filthy, colourful Giallo wonders. Black Sabbath is a fine work but nowhere close to the talents that lie ahead for Bava, whose work on this Boris Karloff-starring feature is serviceable, but not exactly enthralling. Incredible an opening this horror shorts collection may have, it is the stories themselves that struggle to battle against the heft of Karloff’s introductory remarks, warning of the “signs from the dead.” Three signs explored with uncouth resilience for the genre, and with scattershot results.

An opening story that sees a woman contained with the fears of leaving is marked by a rather strange interior design and an even more dominant red telephone. That would appear somewhat in Blood and Black Lace just a year later, where Bava extended his claim as a superior Giallo director, especially improved over his efforts in this first story. Fear comes from the ordinary and Bava shows that tremendously well with this opening tale. Not every bump in the night or shocking event must be that of ghosts, ghouls and isolated moments of paranormal madness. Initiating a fear of telephone conversations, Bava’s work here is brought new life to the young adults whose phones are forever on silent, out of fear of having to strike up a conversation.

Perhaps praise for this being the best of Bava comes from it being a mash-up of sorts. He delights in each tone he takes, whether that is of the modern-day or the not-too-distant past. Whatever the case, there is an exceptionally broad range in the location and designs of these characters. Despite those different strokes, they feel dependent on marking a clear difference in the tone and style rather than anything that differentiates the solid horror at the core. A medieval attempt marks the second tale of this feature, and it does see a nice blend of musical cues and mysterious, bloodied strangers. A little too hammy though, and considering Bava was so closely guided by the essentials of horror and gore, it feels strange to see Black Sabbath toiling away with an overreactive Karloff here.

Still, this is Bava trying and attempting to create something interesting. There are few horror anthologies out there that are directed by just one person. Usually, a team of directors are needed, parachuted in to make sure the stylistic arrangements are so tonally different. Bava waves away such a notion, and boldly so. In doing so, he marks Black Sabbath not just as a project that sees three unique stories on display, but one that perhaps identifies the majority of his stylistic choices. Perhaps that is why it is considered his finest. Not because there is specific quality as expanded upon by Blood and Black Lace or Rabid Dogs, but because Black Sabbath is an entrée of his efforts. A buffet spread of lighting choices, design specifications and solid, if forgettable performances. It may be broad, but it highlights Bava at his broadest too, just not at his best.