directed by Roy Ward Baker
adapted by Harry Fine
based on the short story by Sheridan Le Fanu
starring Peter Cushing, Ingrid Pitt, George Cole, Kate O’ Mara, Ferdy Mane, Madeline Smith, Dawn Addams, Harvey Hall, John Forbes-Robertson, Douglas Wilmer, Pippa Steele.
The first thing one must admire in this film are the lungs of Pippa Steele. She unleashes a series of shrieks that shock the senses and clarify any cloudy thinking that might have heretofore plagued the viewer. It’s a glorious thing and but one memorable moment in this slinky, seductive film from Hammer Studios.
The film is based around “Camilla”, the infamous short story about a lesbian vampire who sucks the life out of pretty, delicate things. The theme is exploited her as the film opens in late eighteenth century Styria. A Baron named Joachim von Hartog (Wilmer) has taken it upon himself to rid the area of vampires after one of them took the life of his sister. He sees a thrilling sight: a comely number sashaying her fine wares straight at him. She’s dressed in a see-through and he clearly gets an eye full of everything the girl has to offer. When she finally reaches him her fangs come out and he shockingly manages to cut off her head. It’s the first melding of sex and death and it sets the tone for a terrific ride. Von Hartog enterprises to finish off the Karnstein clan of vampires and he succeeds save one, the brutally efficient Mircalla (Pitt). It proves to be a ghastly omission.
Fast forward a few years and the kids are kicking up their heels at a ball. Admittedly these ball scenes go on way too long and manage to kill the mood after a while. Lovely Marcilla (Pitt, in one of three roles) comes to live with General von Spieldorf (Cushing) and his delectable daughter Laura (Steele). The two lovelies bond immediately but soon little Laura takes ill and she never recovers. Marcilla absconds at the precise moment when her terrible workmanship is revealed. Later we meet the splendid Carmilla (Pitt) and she too moves in with a man named Roger Morton (Cole) and his daughter Emma (Smith). Again, the two females become inseparable and soon darling Emma is on death’s door. She’s deliciously pale and her bosom heaves at just the right tempo. Naturally, cruel Carmilla is taking just enough to get her by but not enough to kill the wee lass. It’s exquisite to watch Carmilla and Emma together. They share an intense intimacy that is consumed with erotic energy and a primal force that informs every frame.
In this version of the vampire mythos those stricken by the arch fiend’s fangs can be killed or merely have the life drained from them. Carmilla proves capable by eliminating a number of personages who attempt to stand in her way. Her method is mainly sexual seduction followed by the ubiquitous love bites. Her prey become utterly transfixed and fatefully ensnared by Carmilla’s sexual web. A single coupling and they quickly become her slaves. These scenes of seduction are rife with the proper amount of tension. Carmilla is irresistible and Ingrid Pitt drains ever drop of sexual urgency out of those moments when she’s prowling for hot, glistening flesh. She is a tyrant who controls simply through the avenue of her body and it’s almost blinding to watch her work her magic over the unwitting. Carmilla’s perfect little slave comes in the form of the Governess, Mme. Perrodot (O’Mara) whom she seduces in a scene of delicate execution. The governess and Carmilla make eye contact in one of those smoldering moments where tiny pricks torment the skin. She follows Carmilla into her bedroom whereupon the seductress disappears into the shadows revealing but a silhouette of her naked flesh. It’s all about suggestion but one swoons at what one imagines will happen next. Indeed, from that very act Mme. Perrodot gives in entirely and her body quivers with anticipation. This is an example of the transforming potential of sex if it is applied with the proper amount of mystery. This one scene is as charged as anything that has ever been put on celluloid. It’s such a simple moment but it resonates for the entirety of the film.
The association of female sexuality with vampires is as old as time itself. This film exploits this dynamic with fluid urgency. The female vampire represents the fears of rampant female awareness of their powers of seduction and allurement. Carmilla becomes pure sex unadulterated by social mores and customs. She is the raging, carnal soul demanding and devouring whatever it pleases devoid of niceties that keep proper girls from actualizing their most secret desires to play the wanton hussy if only for a little while. Females who recognize their potential for sexual tyranny have always been a threat to the order. This film literalizes that fear by presenting the raw, insatiable appetite of its heroine and it’s ability to bring an ecstatic, messianic death to the sacrificed one. The cult of the avenging goddess is alive and well in those scenes where Carmila displays her fangs and eagerly plays out her role in the dynamic dance of erotic transformation.
Ingrid Pitt spends much of this film observing in the back of the frame. Intensely scouring her environs with her impossibly dark eyes she haunts the viewer and threatens to steal one’s soul. There is acute hunger in these eyes and once one is trapped the struggle for release is prolonged and exceedingly burdensome. Closeups bring an even more devastating dynamic to the fore and the viewer is further trapped in those cauldrons of unadulterated desire.
The cinematography by Moray Grant is dark and foreboding. It often creates claustrophobic set pieces that seem to close in and potentially devour. The late 18th century motif works throughout the film both in terms of design and style. It’s gloomy and threatening which means any terrible thing might emerge from it at any time. Indeed, images of Carmilla enshrouded by fog play succinctly on the imagination as the terrible specter come to mean us great harm. She has the ability to turn herself into an enormous cat and torments her victims with terrible nightmares. She lovingly teases them with her tongue before honing in for a small feast.
The performances in this film are often hinged on other faculties besides acting. As mentioned Pippa Steele does everything in her power to make her scenes memorable and she pulls it off merely by opening her mouth and caterwauling. Ingrid Pitt moves about with stiff gestures and robotic like movements. She shows no emotion throughout the film and possesses all of the dynamic range of a well cured zombie. Yet, she’s effective nonetheless as her character is meant to be something of an automatron. Peter Cushing is rigid, totemic, and authoritarian in this film. He’s officious and solid in a small role that nevertheless is impressively presented. Kate O’Mara as the Governess possesses an intensity that is brought forth via her buttoned up sexuality which is finally unleashed by Carmilla. She is a pent up mess before hand and is only in need of a dominant female vampire to give her the ride of rides.
Overall, this film expresses a foreboding mood while showcasing a deeply erotic story that takes advantage of the attributes of its female cast. There is something naturally thrilling about watching female sexuality divorced from the arrogant pretensions of intercourse. Of course it proves to be best when it’s bound up and just frothing at the mouth to be released as it is here with the character of the Governess. Despite their penchant for young girls Ingrid Pitt’s three vampire formations also have the yen for boy meat once in a while as illustrated when Carmilla expertly seduces Renton (Hall) and turns him into one of her slaves. This is an exaggerated example of sex’s power to take people over and put them under the spell of the stronger one. It suggests that in the right circumstances sex can be used tyrannically to utterly control those who easily slip into a mode of martyrdom between the sheets.
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