The horror genre’s a difficult thing to figure. It’s at once ridiculous due to the backing stories and plots that are needed to bolster any sort of ethereal stuff that occurs in a film, but it can also be artfully put together. Countless problems abound with such a confluence of high art and genre schlock, but in that is something that retains such a draw to viewers that it’s difficult to properly understand.

Mario Bava is generally cited as one of the most visually influential directors of the genre. And that’s how it should be. Subsequent to having a go at a career in fine art, but finding it lacking on the monetary side of things, Bava began working alongside his father who was, at the time, one of the more highly regarded folks working with special effects.

As a result of his father’s patronage, the younger Bava would eventually go on to helm the camera in a slew of works beginning in the late ‘30s. He would soon earn the director’s chair, but not before he’d taken over a few productions during which the proper director booked it for various reasons.

The first feature that Bava wrote, shot and directed was his 1960 film Black Sunday - which has also been released under the title The Mask of Satan. The film’s worth taking a look at for a variety of reasons. And while the plot might not be one of them, inherent in the narrative is an odd element that must have been plucked from Bava’s own life.

The Mask of Satan begins with a scene that ostensibly got the film banned in England for eight years. A witch, condemned of her craft, has the ole iron maiden hammered onto her face resulting in a sidelong shot of the mask and spires of spurting blood.

Of course, the fact that the witch – Princess Asa – is condemned by her own brother becomes a central point of the flick. There’s a familial element to the entirety of The Mask of Satan. It comes in a variety of variations, but there’s the ensuing generations of royalty that live in the same castle which saw the death of that witch – she’s still entombed there and eventually causes some problems.

What does this all say about the Bava household?

The family lineage is handed down over time with the castle’s current female resident, here played by Barabra Steele in her first starring role, bearing a striking resemblance to the witch.

Katia, the Steele character, develops some relationship with a travelling doctor, who winds up being the fulcrum of the film. But this doctor, Gorobec, is on the road with his mentor, a Dr. Kruvajan. The two share in some father/son dichotomy, but it’s subverted by an odd longing for confirmation on the part of the younger doctor.

Regardless of the interpersonal relationships here, there’s enough brilliantly executed cinematography to get anyone through the poorly paced feature. Bava may have created his horror thesis in this film – even as the majority of the time viewers are going to be wondering how much time is left.