Seduction and Destruction: Daughters of Darkness

After a mishap delays their train, Stefan (John Karlen) and Valerie (Danielle Ouimet) miss their boat back to England and have to room in a luxurious hotel during its off season. As one imagines, they newlyweds find a few ways to pass the time. But as it turns out, the royal suite they’ve taken is desired by a late and unexpected arrival. Countess Elisabeth Báthory (Delphine Seyrig) and her assistant Ilona (Andrea Rau) would have liked to stay there—as the Countess may well have done forty years before—but they make do with an adjoining suite. The young couple catches the Countess’s eye, and soon enough a bizarre game of seduction and psychological horror ensues.

Both the hotel clerk Pierre (Paul Esser) and retired a police detective (Georges Jamin) seem to believe the Hungarian Countess has been in this area before and may well be tied to murders that took place in the area decades before as well as a trio of them that happened within the last week—crimes that left their victims drained of all blood … The Countess and her associate are a cagey pair.

The more attention the Countess pays to the marrieds, the more Stefan slips off into stranger, darker, sadistic interests. He’s a man who seems to live in terror of his Mother (Fons Rademakers), regularly refusing to mention Valerie to her and bribing the hotel clerk to claim there is no answer at Chilton Manor when he’s supposed to be ringing there … However, he becomes much more aggressively cruel, the closer he gets to death and the sources of discussion about it. Proximity to the Countess makes him increasingly macho, violent, and possessive. However, it is not Stefan the Countess covets.

She is much more interested in his wife. As well, the Countess’ interests seem to draw out a kind of meekness and surrender from Valerie. Is this strange, lovely, and impossible creature looking for a beauty to bleed in order to maintain her vitality as her family was reputed to do? Or does Báthory have a very different thirst she’s eager to slake? As the relationships between Valerie, Stefan, Countess Báthory, and Ilona come together and break apart, partnerships rearrange in unexpected ways and carnage waits in the wings … Harry Kümel helms a decadent, surreal, erotic, and ambitious gothic film with Daughters of Darkness (1971).

The 1970s had a plethora of vampire movies, and several of these involves Sapphic vampires and their prey/partners. Lesbian vampire films have not seen such a burst of activity since, and although many of the films from this time are enjoyable, there’s something about the artistry, the performances, the look, and the sound of Kümel’s production that makes it stand out just a little more than the others.

Some of this has to do with the setting and cinematographer Eduard van der Enden’s photography. Some of it has to do with the strange script from Kümel, Pierre Drouot, Jean Ferry, Joseph Amiel, and an uncredited Manfred Köhler, which balances a traditional gothic narrative along with surreal and expressionist touches, which rejects the concept of the horror hag and embraces the beautiful sensuality and sexuality of an older woman. Some of it has to do with the score from Franҫois de Roubaix, which blends folk music cues with singular electronic orchestrations. Much of it has to do with Kümel’s directorial vision, and the success of that relies on the piece’s four central performances.

The main draw here is undoubtedly Delphine Seyrig’s smoky portrayal of the Countess. Garbed in outrageous reds, violets, blacks, and whites, adorned with exquisitely attended makeup, she looks the part of a films noir seductress. However, she brings an earthy earnestness to the role, a gleefulness that only serves to elevate her character from the day-to-day lives of those she encounters. The character as written walks outside of the petty lives and concerns of people like Stefan or Valerie, sharing none of their hobbling morality or clock watching limited lives. Seyrig shows an attentiveness to the way she carries herself, and to the way she delivers dialogue that establishes her as the dominant sight of just about every scene she’s in. And if she’s not the dominant one, then Seyrig’s Countess is about to open a world of hurt on the person who dares to take her spotlight. It’s an extraordinary performance, memorable and seductive and intense in all the right ways.

Danielle Ouimet and Andrea Rau seem to be flipsides to the Seyrig character, and they are essentially the same character viewed from two ends of the lifeline. Ouimet’s Valerie is the young, fresh, inexperienced character, the one who cannot tolerate displays of cruelty or talk of violence. Rau’s Ilona is highly experienced with Báthory’s world and the realms of both bloodletting and suffering; she is the Countess’ lover and although she still appears vibrant and beautiful, she is old and sick in the spirit, longing for destruction. One can easily see how Rau’s character started out as Valerie, and we can extrapolate that (given a long enough timeline) Valerie may well turn into Ilona if Báthory has her way.

John Karlen’s turn as the husband is a challenging one. Stefan is a smarmy bastard, a liar, an abusive sort who’s into the whip wielding side of sadomasochism. He seems to have a history with someone as controlling as Báthory and a noble to boot. There are layers to the character, which Karlen gives us a hint of. The performance is good, and though the character can be written off as a right bastard, he’s much more complex, conflicted, and challenging than a one-dimensional bad guy.

Each of these characters embodies themes of repression, sexual curiosity, barely restrained bestial impulses, the thin line between self-awareness and self-interest, and the curious relationship between seduction and destruction. The isolated location of a summer season hotel in winter allows Báthory the opportunity to intrude on the newlyweds’ personal time, drawing them to her like the proverbial flame with moths and also allowing their darker interests to find release. The film’s script does not bother itself with explanations of the Countess’ allure or the degeneracies that occur in her proximity, inviting the audience to study the situation through unsettling sequences that evoke unease as well as frisson. It’s a film that presents information in splendid ways, and yet it provides the opportunity for us to process it.

Kat Ellinger recently wrote a thorough book on the film, and no critical approach is complete without a mention of her work. The volume is a part of the Devil’s Advocate series from Auteur Publishing, and it breaks the film down from a number of approaches, offering a range of personal insights, interviews conducted with the principles, and excerpts from some of the best scholarship on the film. It’s a handy volume, eminently readable, and a thought provoking critical approach that is worth seeking out.

The Blue Underground releases of the full cut of the film are beautiful and backed with a plethora of bonus features, including separate commentary tracks with the director Kümel and author Ellinger.

Daughters of Darkness is a delightfully perverse and subversive slice of Eurohorror. With several powerhouse performances and a quirky eye for color and action, it is still as intriguing and provocative a film as it was when released fifty years ago.

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Daughters of Darkness is available in DVD, Blu-ray, and streaming editions.

Kat Ellinger’s Devil’s Advocates book on Daughters of Darkness is available in paperback edition.

Next week, we kick off a monthlong look at violent crime films, starting with Massacre Mafia Style. The film is available in a DVD/Blu-ray combo and streaming editions.

Writing for “Seduction and Destruction: Daughters of Darkness” is copyright © 2022 by Daniel R. Robichaud.

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