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The movie opens with an apparent flashback to an earlier period of history where a gypsy wedding is disrupted by the revivification of the sinister Count Sinistre, your standard local evil aristocratic vampire. Then we’re in contemporary times, with a party of British tourists in a remote French village. An expedition to explore some local caves goes badly wrong, one of the men is killed and soon afterwards one of the female members of the party disappears. The locals, including the doctor and chief of police, are oddly unconcerned. They give the impression of wanting the tourists to depart as soon as possible and they evince little interest in any in-depth investigation. This is not good enough for Paul Baxter (played by William Sylvester) who arranges for the bodies to be flown back to England for detailed post-mortem examinations. Unfortunately the bodies never arrive in Britain.
Near where the woman had vanished Baxter had picked up a strange object which we later earn is a magical talisman, and on his return to Britain he continues to brood over these strange events. Like all good horror movie heroes he happens to be well acquainted with a scientist who has a knowledge of the occult, and he begins to suspect that the French villagers had been involved in witchcraft. What he doesn’t know is that it’s not just witchcraft, it’s a coven led by the vampire Count Sinistre and that the vampire is now in England. The decadent arty thrill-seekers mentioned earlier are mixed up with a local
antiques dealer, M
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The movie dates from those long-vanished days when censorship still prevented horror film-makers from relying on large helpings of sex and violence and gore. Atmosphere and suspense were crucial because you simply didn’t have anything else to work with to create the necessary horror. This limitation on what could be shown could be a weakness or an asset. A director with sufficient ability would use all his skills to build up a mood of dread and foreboding that could be considerably more effective than throwing buckets of blood at the audience. Devils of Darkness is an example of what could happen in the hands of a less skilled director.
The plot is reasonable enough. The movie is polished and the production values are fairly high. The acting is competent. It’s photographed and directed quite competently. The settings have the necessary atmosphere to them. But no actual horror eventuates. Hubert Noël looks the part as the vampire but he lacks any real menace. A couple of scenes are slightly spooky, but there are no real chills, no sense of evil or of any real cosmic wrongness. Director Lance Comfort just doesn’t seem to know he’s making a horror movie.
William Sylvester is a very dull hero. The female characters are potentially a lot more interesting. Tracy Reed as Karin has the same sort of strange exotic beauty that Gloria Holden and Carroll Borland brought to Dracula's Daughter and Mark of the Vamp
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The whole exercise is simply too bland and too genteel. If you compare it to the movies Terence Fisher made for Hammer at around the same time and under the same censorship constraints the difference is startling. It’s easy to see why Hammer had prospered while Planet Pictures made very little impact.
It’s not a terrible movie, it’s just a trifle dull and that’s something that a horror movie can’t afford to be.
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