If you ever wondered what a vintage Russian horror movie would be like, look no further than VIY (Severin Films, 1967). This old-country ghost story of a young would-be monk's terrifying supernatural clash against an undead witch with a thirst for vengeance should check that box on your bucket list quite nicely.
In fact, when this well-produced and beautifully-mounted tale really gets cranked up, some scenes easily match those whacked-out Shaw Brothers martial arts/ghost stories such as HOLY FLAME OF THE MARTIAL WORLD and THE BATTLE WIZARD for sheer supernatural weirdness.
But I'm getting ahead of myself. The story begins when a group of rowdy young seminary students are released from the monastery for what amounts to their version of Sprink Break. Three of them, including Khoma (Leonid Kuravlyov), get lost walking to the nearest village and ask for lodging in a secluded house.
When the creepy and rather frightful-looking old crone who lives there begins to come on to Khoma in a (yechhh) seductive manner, he naturally rebels. She then mounts him horseback-style and, swinging her broom and cackling all the way, rides him straight up into the night sky for a harrowing lighter-than-air experience.
Upon landing, Khoma grabs a stick and starts beating her with it. As he does, her features change into those of a beautiful young woman. Khoma flees from the dying figure and returns to the monastery, only to find the next day that he has been ordered to travel to a house and pray for three days at the deathbed of a woman who, for some reason, has requested him by name.
After a long wagon journey during which he gets drunk on vodka with his garrulous guides, Khoma arrives at the house to discover two things: one, the woman is dead, and two, she's the same one he beat so savagely the night before. And yes, she was a witch, although her devoted and very imposing father refuses to believe such a thing and threatens Khoma with a deadly lashing if he doesn't fulfill her last wish for him to pray over her.
This, then, results in three successive nights of terror for Khoma which are a grueling ordeal for him and a source of pure, hair-raising entertainment for us horror fans.
After a suspenseful build-up that has us keen with anticipation, directors Konstantin Ershov and Georgiy Kropachyov lock us into that shadowy, decrepit old church with Khoma and the young woman's corpse and then methodically start pulling out all the stops one by one.
The first night is when she initially comes back to snarling, eyeball-rolling life as Khoma furiously recites scripture for all he's worth. Hastily scrawling a chalk circle around his lecturn, he cowers fearfully as the witch struggles to enter it. The camerawork and direction are wonderfully frenetic here and are matched by the intense performances of the two leads.
And that's just the first night. At this point we're still in for some of the wildest visuals imaginable, all rendered with fine old-school practical and photo-chemical effects as opposed to the sort of generic CGI that would likely be used today.
There are ample chills and loads of atmosphere, but on the third night things go from lush Gothic scariness to bizarre, practically Lovecraftian surrealism. Here, we at last meet Viy (pronounced VEE-Yah) and his repellent minions, and--that's all I'm going to reveal.
Leonid Kuravlyov does a marvelous job as Khoma, and, although we're meant to feel as though the callow priest deserves all of this, I can't help but sympathize with him. His actions during that first encounter with the witch are understandable, and it isn't his fault that his faltering faith provides him little protection against the supernatural horrors he faces later on.
We also discover at one point that he's an orphan who never knew his parents, leading me to assume that he ended up at the monastery because nobody else wanted him and was simply making the best of it despite his carnal weaknesses. This, if anything, makes his spiritual ordeal all the more tragic and affecting to me in addition to its potent visceral horror.
The Blu-ray from Severin Films is pictorially splendid and a pleasure to look at. Both Russian and English-dubbed soundtracks (with subtitles) are available. Bonus features include an interview with Richard (HARDWARE) Stanley, a featurette entitled "The Woods To The Cosmos: John Leman Riley On The History Of Soviet Fantasy And Sci-Fi Film", a trailer, and three scintillating silent films--"Satan Exultant", "The Queen of Spades", and "The Portrait"--from the early days of Russian fantasy-horror cinema.
In today's world of flashy, noisy, jump-scare-ridden CGI fests, VIY comes as a real old-fashioned horror tale that knows what chills us. It's so finely-rendered and effective, in fact, that when it was over I could only wonder where in the heck it has been all my life.
Buy it from Severin Films
Special Features:
Viy the Vampire: An Interview with Richard Stanley
The Woods To The Cosmos: John Leman Riley On The History Of Soviet Fantasy And Sci-Fi Film
Short Silent Films – Satan Exultant, The Queen of Spades, and The Portrait
Trailer
English Track
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