A viewer familiar with the name in the title of the movie will come into the theater expecting to look at -- and be horrified by -- the ugliest female murderer in history. During the first two thirds of the movie he or she will witness enough suspicious events to believe that their worst fears will eventually come true. The suspense is mounting and murders of innocent maids, baths in blood and occasional turning of the vile noblewoman into a black cat are just around the corner. At first glance, all we see is beautiful lady with an enormous hairdo (Anna Friel -- a truly nice performance!), who is wildly rich but unhappy in an arranged marriage. No wonder that when the unloved husband sends her a young painter (Hans Matheson) with an order to paint a portrait of her, faster than you pronounce "in the clothes I cannot distinguish the curves of your body'' she finds herself engaged into an emotional relationship with him. Short takes shot with artistic craftsmanship introduce us to permanently new situations that wear out at the moment the take is over, building up atmosphere rather than summing up into a coherent story. At a quick pace, we recognize that the lady likes to ride her husband shouting ''hajra'', meaning ''let's go'' in Hungarian; that she lost her baby after being raped by the husband when he appeared at home from the war against Turks; that he regrets what he has done, understanding that the war has made a beast from him; that her hairdo is fake; that the painter is Caravaggio; that the greedy neighbor who wishes to steal three lakes from her (Karel Roden) likes to play chess; that Caravaggio would wear a hat with burning candles when painting at night (yes, just like Forman's Goya), and so forth. While this is going on, every now and then there appears a remark or a situation that reminds us that the main character is THE Elizabeth Bathory. Finally we see her doing something which seems to confirm beyond all doubt her reputation -- only to find during the next take that she was under the influence of some hallucinogenic mushroom and did not know about herself. It is like chess game with an opponent having all forces ready for attack, but keeping to maneuver as if he was following some secret plan. *** SPOILER *** For me, the decisive evidence that I got the heroine wrong came shortly after the mushroom incident, with a certain finding -- let me put it in this way in order to soften the spoiler -- of two monks, a sophisticated old man and a boy, who were investigating the proceedings in the castle of Cachtice (just like the couple in The Name of the Rose was investigating the proceedings in the abbey -- but hey, how much of the Shakespeare's stuff was really original?). It was as late as that when I finally realized what the director, who is also the principal author of the script, has been telling us from the beginning: that countess Dracula was not Dracula at all. Many will charge the movie with a deliberate distortion of history, but its creator does not take notice of the battle cry of enemy combat orders and, like a knight of an old romance, carries on with his brave campaign to clean up the name of a noble lady. So far so good. But then again, why he confuses us for a better part of the movie making us think that the heroine is just as spoiled as the Guinness Book of World Records claims? When he postpones the revelation of the premise of the movie, he is putting himself at risk that the movie will produce massive disappointment in the audiences and attacks on the box office to get back the entrance fee. The more knightly is his deed, but anyway, what is the possible purpose to play with the viewer like that? Because he plays chess with US, not with the countess; and what appeared to be mysterious maneuvers on his part was in fact a row of subsequent sacrifices before the surprising final combination. However, the chess player who has lost the game can still enjoy the shear aesthetics of his defeat. The artist arranged the scene in such a realistic manner that the viewer is convinced it is meant to represent reality; and after the mistake becomes clear, an expiration of enchantment ensues. Like when Judith is just about to behead Holofernes, but after Caravaggio waves his hand, she puts down the knife and Holofernes stands up from the couch with a smile.
Review of Bathory: Countess of Blood
