(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“Loosely based on Black Sunday (1960), a group of skiers get lost in the mountains, and come across the snowy tomb of a centuries-old witch. They accidentally awaken the witch's vengeful spirit, who then proceeds to possess them one by one.”
Audiences do love their twist endings.
All the way back to the days of Rod Serling’s seminal TV classic The Twilight Zone viewers were attuned to some big, unexpected final scene being used to redefine the width and breadth of what they’d seen. Programs like The Outer Limits, Night Gallery, and even The X-Files often made use of the same narrative structure, as did a good number of major motion pictures, including the original Planet Of The Apes (1968), The Sixth Sense (1999), and Arrival (2016). While it could be argued that such theatrical trickery isn’t necessarily reserved to just Science Fiction, Fantasy, and Horror, many might agree that such genre entries have made the best use of the construct; and this is likely why we see it put to rather extensive use in such like-minded fare.
Similarly, Italian director Lamberto Bava has toyed with the device on occasion. While his results and their effectiveness has varied to a large degree (from what I’ve read), I suppose the old saying about it being better to have tried and failed as opposed to never having tried at all … but if his The Mask Of Satan is any indication then I’m inclined to disagree. Perhaps the film’s failure to really make the necessary impact in its last scene is owed more to the ineffectiveness of what comes before the big twist than anything else: whatever the case may be, I’d still argue I’ve seen many middling efforts stick their landings better than this one did.
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“Loosely based on Black Sunday (1960), a group of skiers get lost in the mountains, and come across the snowy tomb of a centuries-old witch. They accidentally awaken the witch's vengeful spirit, who then proceeds to possess them one by one.”
Audiences do love their twist endings.
All the way back to the days of Rod Serling’s seminal TV classic The Twilight Zone viewers were attuned to some big, unexpected final scene being used to redefine the width and breadth of what they’d seen. Programs like The Outer Limits, Night Gallery, and even The X-Files often made use of the same narrative structure, as did a good number of major motion pictures, including the original Planet Of The Apes (1968), The Sixth Sense (1999), and Arrival (2016). While it could be argued that such theatrical trickery isn’t necessarily reserved to just Science Fiction, Fantasy, and Horror, many might agree that such genre entries have made the best use of the construct; and this is likely why we see it put to rather extensive use in such like-minded fare.
Similarly, Italian director Lamberto Bava has toyed with the device on occasion. While his results and their effectiveness has varied to a large degree (from what I’ve read), I suppose the old saying about it being better to have tried and failed as opposed to never having tried at all … but if his The Mask Of Satan is any indication then I’m inclined to disagree. Perhaps the film’s failure to really make the necessary impact in its last scene is owed more to the ineffectiveness of what comes before the big twist than anything else: whatever the case may be, I’d still argue I’ve seen many middling efforts stick their landings better than this one did.
IMDB.com credits the script to Bava along with Massimo De Rita and Giorgio Stegani, with all of them drawing inspiration from a novel attributed to Nikolay Gogol. The film stars Giovanni Guidelli in the role of Davide, just one of a small group of mountain skiers on a holiday who find themselves trapped in a crevasse that may or may not be a secret gateway to another world, universe, time, or … well … whatever else the place may or may not be. (Trust me when I say this is all more than a bit vague.) Also on board are Debora Caprioglio (as Sabina), Stanko Molnar (as the High Priest), Wanja Mary Sellers (as Mary), Allesandra Bonarota (as Irma), and a few others. I’d continue with all of them – it’s a reasonable small cast – if it really mattered: the problem herein is that aside from Davide, Sabina, and the priest, the remainders pretty much serve as a unit with very little distinctiveness. The mystical tale devolves quickly into a ‘us vs them’ yarn, so I’ll dispense with any further pleasantries as they’re fundamentally unimportant.
The set-up for the mildly sordid tale is that these skiers – dropped into a mountainous area by helicopter – set out to explore this arctic environment only to all crash into a chasm that opens up not long after their arrival. Once inside, they go about the business of trying to climb out, but Sabina – injured and sitting on the cold ground – notices something metallic emerging from the frozen surface near her person. Intrigued, the group begins digging, eventually unearthing what looks to be a torture mask – complete with spikes that would impale the wearer – that’s likely worth a fortune. The discovery of the mask suddenly opens up a Narnia-like existence within the icy mountain interior, complete with a small, deserted village and an impressive temple-like structure maintained by a blind priest. Through their dreams and a brief narrative from the priest, the skiers learn that the mask was, indeed, tied to a witch – named Abinas – who died at the hands of the villagers centuries before. As Fate would have it, Abinas has now inhabited Sabina (their names are simply reversed), and she’s slowly infected the minds of her friends to turn them into evil cohorts.
Davide is the sole holdout. Though we’re never quite given any definitive reason for why he’s able to resist both the spectral shenanigans and the carnal desires of Abinas/Sabina (they’re seemingly a romantic couple but have abstained from acting on their attractions), the script strongly suggests that ‘true love’ is the method with which he denies the black magic. The two nearly consummate their relationship – I won’t spoil it, but let’s just say Bava stages it wonderfully with a measure of camera dissolves and some impressive practical effects – but it’s at this point that the young man realizes he’s the only one who escapes the ghostly clutches of his mountain’s curse. In the big finish, the half-naked man rises from the pile of bodies of his fallen comrades; and he goes rushing toward his freedom once the powers of the mask begin to fade.
Geesh.
The set-up for the mildly sordid tale is that these skiers – dropped into a mountainous area by helicopter – set out to explore this arctic environment only to all crash into a chasm that opens up not long after their arrival. Once inside, they go about the business of trying to climb out, but Sabina – injured and sitting on the cold ground – notices something metallic emerging from the frozen surface near her person. Intrigued, the group begins digging, eventually unearthing what looks to be a torture mask – complete with spikes that would impale the wearer – that’s likely worth a fortune. The discovery of the mask suddenly opens up a Narnia-like existence within the icy mountain interior, complete with a small, deserted village and an impressive temple-like structure maintained by a blind priest. Through their dreams and a brief narrative from the priest, the skiers learn that the mask was, indeed, tied to a witch – named Abinas – who died at the hands of the villagers centuries before. As Fate would have it, Abinas has now inhabited Sabina (their names are simply reversed), and she’s slowly infected the minds of her friends to turn them into evil cohorts.
Davide is the sole holdout. Though we’re never quite given any definitive reason for why he’s able to resist both the spectral shenanigans and the carnal desires of Abinas/Sabina (they’re seemingly a romantic couple but have abstained from acting on their attractions), the script strongly suggests that ‘true love’ is the method with which he denies the black magic. The two nearly consummate their relationship – I won’t spoil it, but let’s just say Bava stages it wonderfully with a measure of camera dissolves and some impressive practical effects – but it’s at this point that the young man realizes he’s the only one who escapes the ghostly clutches of his mountain’s curse. In the big finish, the half-naked man rises from the pile of bodies of his fallen comrades; and he goes rushing toward his freedom once the powers of the mask begin to fade.
Geesh.
About the best that can be said of The Mask Of Satan is that Bava clearly had an idea for how he both wanted to stage and execute this dark fairy tale; and – on that level alone – it’s pretty effective.
Satan has the look and feel of something representative of being beyond time and space in just about every sequence. About the time wherein the audience thinks it has a hold on where they are, some minor wrinkle into the fabric, forcing them to put their thinking caps back on. But when such deception ultimately requires an explanation, the film fails to congeal, instead leaving viewers with a closing sequence suggesting nothing they watched was authentic as Davide rushes the snowy canyon walls seeking an escape from the curious stack of dead bodies that once were his colleagues, all dressed as they were when they entered this crevasse in the first place. The mask lies there – shown briefly – but the temple, village, and other confines appear nowhere, an indication that perhaps Bava and his merry band of storytellers simply made it all up.
Huh?
As a big twist, it’s a huge letdown.
But as a closing scene, it outta be a crime.
The Mask Of Satan (1989) was produced by Reteitalia, ANFRI S.r.l., Beta Film, Rádio e Televisão de Portugal (RTP), Silvio Berlusconi Communications, and a few other participants. (A full accounting can be found on IMDB.com.) DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Severin Films. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert … wow. This 94-minute chiller both looks and sounds fantastic. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? Well, there are a few associated cast and crew interviews on the disc, but that’s really all there is. While the reflections are nice, they just aren’t all that in-depth in any way. A bit undercooked.
Alas … only Mildly Recommended.
Sadly, the biggest problem I suspect even a casual viewer is going to find with The Mask Of Satan (1989) is its illogical core: did it happen, or didn’t it? While I’ve no problem (to some degree) with leaving certain elements open for audience interpretation, this one defies even common sense, postulating that perhaps all of the mildly bloody ruckus was nothing more than the fever dream of the last man standing. If that’s the case, then why weave this web in the first place? If that’s not the case, then how am I to put all of these pieces together? At best, it’s a creative misfire. At worst, it’s a lying disaster.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Severin Films provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of The Mask Of Satan (1989) by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
Satan has the look and feel of something representative of being beyond time and space in just about every sequence. About the time wherein the audience thinks it has a hold on where they are, some minor wrinkle into the fabric, forcing them to put their thinking caps back on. But when such deception ultimately requires an explanation, the film fails to congeal, instead leaving viewers with a closing sequence suggesting nothing they watched was authentic as Davide rushes the snowy canyon walls seeking an escape from the curious stack of dead bodies that once were his colleagues, all dressed as they were when they entered this crevasse in the first place. The mask lies there – shown briefly – but the temple, village, and other confines appear nowhere, an indication that perhaps Bava and his merry band of storytellers simply made it all up.
Huh?
As a big twist, it’s a huge letdown.
But as a closing scene, it outta be a crime.
The Mask Of Satan (1989) was produced by Reteitalia, ANFRI S.r.l., Beta Film, Rádio e Televisão de Portugal (RTP), Silvio Berlusconi Communications, and a few other participants. (A full accounting can be found on IMDB.com.) DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Severin Films. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert … wow. This 94-minute chiller both looks and sounds fantastic. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? Well, there are a few associated cast and crew interviews on the disc, but that’s really all there is. While the reflections are nice, they just aren’t all that in-depth in any way. A bit undercooked.
Alas … only Mildly Recommended.
Sadly, the biggest problem I suspect even a casual viewer is going to find with The Mask Of Satan (1989) is its illogical core: did it happen, or didn’t it? While I’ve no problem (to some degree) with leaving certain elements open for audience interpretation, this one defies even common sense, postulating that perhaps all of the mildly bloody ruckus was nothing more than the fever dream of the last man standing. If that’s the case, then why weave this web in the first place? If that’s not the case, then how am I to put all of these pieces together? At best, it’s a creative misfire. At worst, it’s a lying disaster.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Severin Films provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of The Mask Of Satan (1989) by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
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