Michael Draine's Twisted Vista
The Black Pit of Dr. M
(Misterios de Ultratumba)
CasaNegra, $19.95 DVD
Dedicated to quality presentation of Mexico’s
heritage of horror, CasaNegra is a welcome
addition to the ranks of specialist DVD labels.
A Sixties TV staple, The Black Pit of Dr. M
(Misterios de Ultratumba, 1959) had
in recent years fallen into public domain
obscurity. Directed by Fernando Méndez, who
initiated the Mexican horror cycle with
Ladrón de cadavers (1957), The Vampire
(El Vampiro) and The Vampire’s Coffin
Coffin (El Ataúd del Vampiro, both 1958),
The Black Pit of Dr. M in many respects
prefigures Mario Bava’s black and white
landmark Black Sunday (La Maschera
del Demonio) of the following year.
The film opens with asylum director Dr.
Masali (Rafael Bertrand) whispering to dying
colleague Dr. Jacinto Aldama that Aldama
will be denied eternal rest until he fulfills
their pact: that the first to die would reveal
to the survivor a method of visiting the afterlife.
A seance invokes Aldama’s spirit, who
discloses the hour of Masali’s death, and
a horrific series of events is set into motion.
Director Fernando Méndez’s narrative skills
yield a taut, persuasive, Faustian tale. Screen-
writer Ramón Obón interweaves themes
from Poe (particularly “The Facts in the
Case of M. Valdemar”), combining them with
conventions of vintage Universal horror: an
obsessed scientist, a young couple drawn
into the web of darkness, a disfigured lab
assistant, an incendiary climax. The asylum
serves as a borderland between science and
superstition, madness and sanity, the body
and the mind.
The film’s literary ambition, poetic execution,
and philosophical concerns exhibit a level of
intelligence rarely seen in the horror film since
Val Lewton’s RKO cycle. Suffused with an
air of encroaching doom and dire judgment,
The Black Pit of Dr. M generates a sense
of the uncanny bordering on delirium. The wild
plot succeeds at delivering the unexpected,
ultimately leaving open the question of whether
Dr. Masali’s fate is self-inflicted, maneuvered
from the beyond, or preordained.
Like Méndez, Obón, and Herrera, designer
Gunter Gerzso is an alumnus of El Ataúd del
Vampiro. Gerzso achieves a high level of
style through inspired set dressing, transform-
a nightclub dance stage into a Dali-esque
dreamscape by the addition of a few pillars.
Executions, burials, and spiritual visitations
take place in a torch-lit, eternally nocturnal		The American poster reveals the black pit as
realm.		the swirling vortex of the subconscious.
Cinematographer Victor Herrera’s use of
backlit fog, edge lighting, and deep shadows
reflects careful study of American noir.
Herrera’s artistry extends to the film’s sole
daylight exterior, where he uses a red filter
to transform the Mexican sky into an ominous
dark slate.
Confident, naturalistic performances from
Rafael Bertrand (Dr. Masali) and Luis Aragon
(Dr. González) betray the stiffness of Gastón
Santos and Mapita Cortés as the innocent
couple, but Santos and Cortés adequately
fulfill their decorative functions.
Carlos Ancira’s kinetic, highly physical
portrayal of the disfigured asylum attendant
(see right) is distinguished by the same
total abandon Dwight Frye displayed in
Dracula and Frankenstein.
A sublime 1.33:1 transfer captures the rich
monochromatic shadings of an immaculate
print. The film is presented in Spanish with
optional English subtitles, as the dubbed
version is now lost. As with prior CasaNegra
releases, a tarot-like Loteria game card is
provided as an insert. Supplements include
the energetic Mexican trailer, the English-
language continuity script, a Fernando
Méndez bio by David Wilt, an essay on film
importer K. Gordon Murray, a commentary by
Frank Coleman, and an unnecessary music
video. Coleman’s commentary offers more
enthusiasm than analysis; Mexican film
scholarship is evidently still in a nascent
stage. CasaNegra’s elegant menu design
proves particularly artful in the case of
the Méndez biography, where the final page
reveals the poignant background image.
Fernando Méndez’s The Black Pit of Dr. M
stands out not only as CasaNegra’s finest
offering to date, but as a classic of inter-		Music Review Index
national horror cinema.
Michael Draine
www.casanegrafilms.com
Stills courtesy of Tim Lucas of		Twisted Cinema
www.videowatchdog.com