The Noir City Film Festival outdid itself tonight with a screening of the only existing English-subtitled 35mm print of "El Vampiro Negro" ("The Black Vampire"), a 1953 Argentinian reworking of Fritz Lang's "M." Hopefully, this beautifully photographed and tense obscurity will get the solid Blu-Ray release it deserves. The film's raw sordidness serves as a reminder of how much saltier foreign crime films were than their American counterparts. One of the high points of "El Vampiro Negro" is a roving tour of a dive bar where one of the protagonists sings, all set to a torch song she's gorgeously moaning out onstage. Shot in high noir style, the sequence is all smoke, chiaroscuro lighting, and misery, and in the best sense. One wretched tableau vivant follows another: a tart passed out on a table in the foreground as her equally blousy companion gazes uncertainly around behind her; a hideous barfly and his blonde companion flash each other oozing grins over their drinks; a haggard and obviously horny patron staring entranced by the chanteuse; and another drunken, smoking degenerate after another, after another, after another. Later, the singer catches a glimpse of the Peter Lorre-esque child-killer through the club's basement window and bursts into hysterics. On the dance floor up above, a floozy nonchalantly tells her dancing partner, "I like to be beaten, too, but I don't scream." As I said, much saltier.
I don't want to give too much else about this little wonder away for right now, but I strongly recommend it.
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