The dark and disturbing real-life account of Elisabeth Bathory, a Hungarian noblewoman who gained notoriety for the heinous deeds of murdering virgins in order to bathe in their blood to gain eternal youth, is well known. It is a dreadful tale of one of the earliest known serial killers and has been turned into several films, possibly most famously the Hammer Horror Ingrid Pitt vehicle Countess Dracula. However, I'd heard of another film version of the tale but a more controversial one: Daughters of Darkness. Suitably intrigued I tracked down a copy and, vegan sausage roll in hand (that's not a euphemism - I was just hungry) I settled down for a watch.
This big screen version introduces us to a modern incarnation of Bathory in form of the glacially glamorous Delphine Seyrig. Arriving at a desolate, off-season seaside hotel in Ostend, Belgium, with her beautiful and enigmatic young 'companion,' Ilona (a stunning turn by Andrea Rau), the Countess quickly sets her sights on the hotel's only other guests: a troubled pair of newlyweds, Valerie (Danielle Ouimet) and Stefan (John Karlen).
What follows is not a typical horror narrative, but a sophisticated, slow-burn seduction. The Countess, with her legendary legacy of perversion, senses the fragility and deep-seated dysfunctions within the young couple’s marriage. Seyrig, with her impossibly serene and seductive elegance, dominates every frame, her performance a masterclass in quiet menace and manipulation.
The two women subtly and deliberately insinuate themselves into the newlyweds' lives, unleashing a frenzy of suppressed violence, repressed sexuality and depraved desire. This version of the vampire myth is less about fangs and crosses and more about the seductive power of liberation and freedom from the shackles of convention.
Beyond the magnetic performances of its quartet of lead actors - the film’s visual artistry is paramount to its success; Daughters of Darkness is a glorious feast for the eyes. The deliberate pace allows the viewer to absorb the atmospheric set design of the grand, empty hotel, complemented by Eduard van der Enden's stunning, moody cinematography. With vibrant splashes of symbolic red, black, and ethereal blues, the film showcases elaborate sets and truly amazing costumes. Seyrig's wardrobe alone is a legendary aspect of the film’s decadent, timeless style.
Harry Kümel’s 1971 Belgian-French-West German co-produced film is one of the most exquisitely mesmerizing and transgressive films in the adult horror canon; it is a sumptuous, highly erotic psychosexual drama that moves artfully beyond simple titillation to create something truly intriguing and unsettling.
I did a little research after watching the film and found that its overt exploration of lesbianism, sadomasochism and dysfunctional sexuality made it a controversial sensation at the time - it was a picture that genuinely shocked both arthouse audiences and grindhouse crowds worldwide. However, in the decades since, this once-outrageous film has not only endured but grown in stature. Now viewed through a more appreciative modern lens, Daughters of Darkness is admired less for its sensationalism and more for its intelligence, style, and proto-feminist undercurrents, which posit the Countess as a potential liberator for Valerie from a deeply patriarchal and abusive relationship where she is being gaslit by her cad of a husband.
I can now see why this film is considered a true cult classic, revered today as a jewel of European Gothic horror whose style, sophistication, and psychological depth place it leagues beyond its contemporaries. It is a mesmerizing masterpiece.