Above is a poster for El Diablo se lleva los muertos, which was known in English as Lisa and the Devil—sort of. Most sources say this was originally an Italian movie, though there’s no Italian poster. It premiered at the Cannes Film Fesitval in 1973, and in January 1974 showed at the Avoriaz Fantastic Film Festival, which was a French fest that during its existence between 1973 and 1993 was focused on horror. But there’s no French poster. The movie’s first general release was in Spain today in 1974, so the Spanish poster is what you see above. It was painted by Francisco Fernández Zarza-Pérez, who signed it “Jano.”
In the end, the movie was never released in Italy in its original form. Several months after it tanked with the French, The Exorcist exploded onto global screens and the sudden cultural interest in possession presented the seeming opportunity for El Diablo se lleva los muertos to be spiced up with more vivid content—i.e. scenes of exorcism—and re-released. This happened, and the result was titled Lisa and the Devil, but director Mario Bava had his name removed, which is never a good sign. That’s where the “sort of” comes in. Lisa and the Devil is a hybrid film. We didn’t watch that version. Ours was the original.
So, what happens in the original? Not much. While on holiday in Toledo, Spain, Elke Sommer sees a fresco of the Devil, then later, in a weird shop of old books and mannequins, encounters Telly Savalas, who looks unnervingly like the painting. Circumstances lead to her and a few other stranded travelers spending the night in a creepy old mansion owned by Alida Valli, whose servant is none other than Savalas. Pretty soon a series of inexplicable events occur, ranging from Elke discovering her identical resemblance to a former occupant of the house, to gruesome deaths—including one in which a guy gets run over by a vintage car, backed over, run over, backed over, run over, and maybe backed over again. We lost count. Somehow this is all related to Sommer being a target for Satanic possession.
Sommer was never in an outstandingly good movie as far as we’ve seen yet. This one must have really disheartened her. Hopes started high all around because Bava was an auteur of sorts who’d been given free reign to make anything he wished, but proved that most directors can’t be trusted with that level of control. Some people love this film, but objectively, it’s a slog. We drifted off a few times, then someone would press the horn on that killer car—OOOOGAH!—and we were awake again. In our view El Diablo se lleva los muertos is for lovers of gothic or haunted house horror only. Or you can try the U.S. version and get more gore. We won’t be doing that. But our faith in Elke remains unshaken.
countryside and beach in southern mainland Spain. The house is right in the center of town above a couple of quaint shops and dates mainly back to 1870s. We say mainly because, like many old houses in Spain, it was expanded in sections. The earliest parts are older than the 1870s, but we’d have to dig through the local property registry to find the exact dates of previous works.
