The Night Evelyn Came Out of the Grave/La notte che Evelyn uscì dalla tomba (1971)

‘I need a fistful of ash. That’s essential.’

A troubled aristocrat is obsessed with the memory of his dead wife, Evelyn. He picks up lookalike prostitutes and introduces them to his torture chamber. Then he meets a beautiful woman at a party and falls instantly in love. The couple marries, and he plans to renovate his crumbling ancestral home, but his obsession with Evelyn remains…

Good-looking Giallo directed by Emilio Miraglia and co-written by him, Massimo Felisatti and Fabio Pittorru. The title suggests a straight horror film, but, despite some early hints of the ghastly and supernatural, it’s not likely that anyone would consider it as such.

The death of his unfaithful wife Evelyn (Paola Natale) in childbirth has seriously screwed with the psyche of eligible bachelor Lord Alan Cunningham (Anthony Steffen). Rather than hit the dating scene, he prefers to frequent sleazy clubs and pick up prostitutes such as redheaded exotic dancer Susie (Erika Blanc). After surreptitiously changing the number plates on his car mid-journey (nothing suspicious there!), he gets them back to his cool pad: a suite of chic rooms in his tumbledown castle. Like all good ancestral homes, this comes with its own torture chamber, and good host Steffen is happy to give his guests the grand tour.

Concerned about Steffen’s brooding isolation, his cousin George Harriman (Enzo Tarascio) and psychiatrist Dr Richard Timberlane (Giacomo Rossi Stuart) encourage him to get out more. Tarascio takes him to an outdoor party where the moody noble meets the glamorous Gladys (Marina Malfatti). It’s love at first sight, and the two get hitched and move into the old homestead straight away. Steffen instructs estate manager Farley (Umberto Raho) to renovate the property and invites wheelchair-user Aunt Agatha (Joan C. Davis) to stay. Also resident on the estate is ex-brother-in-law Albert (Roberto Maldera), who acts as caretaker and keeps a cage filled with hungry foxes. He also prowls around at night and accepts regular ‘cash in hand’ payouts from Steffen.

This is an intriguing setup, and the film’s first half builds quite nicely. Miraglia makes excellent use of some wonderfully overgrown locations, the first-class work of cinematographer Gastone Di Giovanni ensuring the daylight scenes carry as much menace as those at night. Most significant story developments occur on the grounds rather than inside, and this unusual emphasis results in some striking images and compositions.

The notion of initially presenting the audience with the apparent fact that Steffen is an insane serial killer and then slowly undermining it is an elegant idea. Although Steffen killing the girls in the first act isn’t shown, it’s heavily implied as Miraglia invites the viewer to fill in the gaps. However, later story developments start to suggest that something else might be going on and, at first, this is well-handled. However, Miraglia soon overplays his hand with a seance scene where the spirit of the departed Natale appears in mid-air courtesy of some camera trickery. This event suddenly opens up the possibility of the paranormal, which comes right out of left field, but it’s so heavy-handed that it signposts what’s really going on. Unfortunately, this is the first of a series of ridiculous plot developments which make less and less sense under close examination.

The most obvious example of this chaotic patchwork of contrived plot points centres around Aunt Agatha. To begin with, Davis (probably a pseudonym as it’s the actor’s only screen credit) looks no older than any of her male relatives, begging the question of just whose aunt she is supposed to be. It transpires later on that she’s having an affair with handyman Maldera, and she’s also faking her disability. She’s murdered a few moments after she gets out of her wheelchair, so we never find out why she was pretending to be an invalid. I guess the murderer kills her a few moments later because she’s fulfilled her function of ‘looking a bit suspicious’. The disposal of her body is also quite silly. I’m guessing that ‘falling out of a wheelchair and getting eaten by foxes’ doesn’t appear on many death certificates. Props also to the local constable who turns up for a few moments, frowns, licks the end of his pencil and proclaims her death ‘an accident’! Promotion to detective must be just around the corner.

The script ties itself in knots trying to make sense, and the director and cast aren’t up to the task of papering over the gaping plot holes. Steffen fails to conjure up any sympathy for our miserable sod of a hero as he sulks around with a face like a wet weekend at the seaside. He shares zero chemistry with Malfatti, which doesn’t sell the idea of an instant love story and immediate marriage. The only cast member to emerge with any credit is Blanc, who makes a lot out of her far too limited screen time. Some credit should also be reserved for composer Bruno Nicolai who delivers a solid and quietly appealing score.

Miraglia began his career as an Assistant Director in the early 1950s and worked his way up to solo directing duties on above-average crime thriller ‘Assassination’ (1967) starring Henry Silva. After another teaming with his star, Miraglia then delivered caper movie ‘The Vatican Affair/A qualsiasi prezzo’ (1968) starring Klaus Kinski, Ira von Fürstenberg and veteran Hollywood star Walter Pidgeon. Obscure Spaghetti Western ‘Shoot Joe, and Shoot Again/Spara Joe… e così sia!’ (1971) came after a three-year break, and his last film was another Giallo, ‘The Red Queen Kills Seven Times/La dama rossa uccide sette volte’ (1972). He left the industry shortly afterwards and passed away in 1982 at the age of 58.

Some excellent visuals are dragged down by a screenplay written without due care and attention.