Yesterday’s post was dedicated to Crepax’s comic book Valentina. At the very end of that post, I mentioned the film Baba Yaga (Baba Yaga, Devil Witch or Kiss Me, Kill Me, 1973) by Corrado Farina, so, for today, let’s briefly look at this film (with many thanks to Kutmusic for digging out of its archives a copy of it for the screens in this post).
Moving from Guido Crepax’s comic book character Valentina and mixing Italian horror, European exploitation and a healthy dose of surrealism, Farina's film follows the vicissitudes of famous fashion photographer Valentina (Isabelle De Funès), whose life takes a dark turn when she meets the mysterious Baba Yaga (Carroll Baker).
The woman, dressed in the black garb of a Victorian widow, gives her a lift one night. After the enigmatic encounter and a visit to Baba Yaga’s mansion, Valentina’s camera mysteriously acquires the power of killing people, and the photographer indirectly starts murdering her models (interesting plot, maybe we should re-invent and re-use it in a new fashion film...).
In the meantime, a doll in a dominatrix attire, a present of Baba Yaga to Valentina, magically turns into a flesh and bone killer, and uses a poisoned hairpin to eliminate Valentina’s models (for reasons of space there are no screen captures about her in this post, sorry). Lesbian seduction, sadism and and death become intertwined as Baba Yaga reveals herself as a witch more interested in Valentina’s body than in her soul.
Farina did his best to adapt the camera frames to Crepax’s style and managed pretty well to reproduce in his film also the most hallucinating and oneiric scenes taken from the comic book.
Crepax’s passion for details is also highlighted in the way the camera lingers on specific objects Valentina shoots with her camera, especially the old and dusty sewing machines and Victorian boots she finds in the witch’s house.
Yet the main problem with this film stands in the fact that, while Crepax’s nightmarish Nazi-themed hallucinations, visions and S&M interludes worked quite well on the page, once transported in a different medium, they ended up giving a sort of fractured and fragmented rhythm to the plot.
Though rescued by its avant-garde editing (see also the love making scenes between Valentina and boyfriend Arno) and by the Piero Umiliani soundtrack, when the film came out it was partially censored and dismissed by critics as a sort of erotic horror.
Yet this hallucinatory mix of fashion, fetish and supernatural elements has got some interesting points also from a style perspective: Giulia Mafai - an expert on the history of costume from the Roman times on, a collaborator of many famous directors and actors including De Sica, Monicelli and Mastroianni and a costume designer for both the big screen and the stage - was the art director and the costume designer on this film.
In the ‘70s Mafai also created the costumes for quite a few horror films such as Mario Bava’s Five Dolls for an August Moon (1970), Sergio Martino’s All the Colours of the Dark (1972) and Umberto Lenzi’s Seven Blood Stained Orchids (1972), mainly choosing the wardrobes for her characters from the collection of popular ready-to-wear brands from those years.
From a fashion point of view, Farina’s Baba Yaga could be considered as a compendium of Italian ready-to-wear brands from those times (without counting the modern pieces of furniture Mafai employed to furnish Valentina’s flat...): furs were by Dellera; jumpers by knitwear company Alexander (based near Como); lingerie by Balyma; shoes by Bologna & Figli (Riccione) and gloves and bags respectively by Milan’s 3D di Mollo and Poor Cow.
Mafai added a touch of avant-garde opting for jewellery by sculptress Pinuccia Torchio, but turned to historical tailoring house Annamode for Baba Yaga’s black widow attire matched with a large black veiled hat (I’m guessing here, but I think Carroll Baker's garments may have been hired and adapted rather than made from scratch, since the film wasn’t a very big production and usually tailoring houses with extensive archives offer a terrific choice of historical gowns/coats that can be adapted). Valentina's wardrobe was Mafai's best choice.
As stated in yesterday’s post, Valentina in Crepax’s comic book is an independent and emancipated woman, so Mafai opted for clothes by Donatella Girombelli’s Genny, at the time a well-established and quite popular women's ready-to-wear brand (recently relaunched).
Valentina changes herself quite often in this film, mainly favouring versatile separates and symbolising through her garments and accessories, her place in society as a stylish, carefree, modern and determined woman.
This is the main reason why choosing a fashion brand that was very popular among independent women at that time was quite symbolical as it contributed to give Valentina that same aura of realism Crepax had given her in his comic book (as stated yesterday, Valentina has a date of birth and lives at a precise address in Milan...).
Interestingly enough, in contemporary films these subtle style references have almost disappeared to favour the needs of a greedy market more interested in product placement than in creating (even in a film) realistic and clever connections between a fictional character and a real brand.
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