Black Sunday (1960): A-

A crossbreed of Universal’s 1930s scarefests and Hammer Films’ then-contemporary monster mashes, 1960’s Black Sunday (aka The Mask of Satan) introduced the world to Italian maestro Mario Bava and screen siren Barbara Steele, and remains one of the cinema’s preeminent examples of gothic horror. Bava’s first directorial effort after years working as cinematographer to, among others, Jacques Tourneur and Raoul Walsh is a sumptuous black-and-white spectacle, a moody, chilling tale of a vampire witch (Steele) who, accidentally resurrected after 200 years of forced slumber, attempts to possess the body of her identical-looking descendent. Bava’s plotting is reasonably tight but Black Sunday isn’t about narrative deftness but atmosphere – specifically, a dreamy blend of ominous terror and fiery eroticism embodied by the striking, statuesque Steele. And what lingers long after the film’s specific plot points have faded from memory are its images – a shot from Steele’s point of view as the spiked Mask of Satan descends onto her face; a glimpse of her reanimating villainess’ fleshy, meaty body; the sight of a demonic coachman lashing steeds as his carriage hurtles along against a stormy sky – which feel as if they’d been ripped straight out of a nightmare.