Dardano Sacchetti was born in 1944 in Montenero di Bisaccia, a small town in the Molise region of Central Italy, under what he claims was a full moon. “I was born in an old country house inhabited only by widows and unmarried women, always dressed in black and with archaic religious beliefs,” he relates. “My grandmother went three times to the cemetery, at night, to disinter my grandfather because she didn’t believe he was dead. Moreover, a great-uncle of mine who was a priest died in the house, and his room—which he never left because of his illness—was shunned because strange things had been seen in there. The house also had a large, abandoned attic, and a cellar which descended into a natural cave where no one had gone for years. The town was rich with legends about the supposed appearance of the devil at the crossroads in front of the cemetery. With this background, I was destined to become a writer of horror movies.”
Destiny notwithstanding, Sacchetti never planned to become a screenwriter at all. As a university student in Rome, he studied law and philosophy, dabbled in theater as both an actor and a writer, “wrote poetry and wanted to start a revolution.” Sacchetti did in fact publish a book of poems and was active in politics, joining the Bertrand Russell Peace Foundation in 1966 as National Secretary.
As he was for many others, Argento was the catalyst who launched Sacchetti’s career in movies. “I had a friend named Luigi Collo at the University—together we founded a magazine of literature and mystery—and he wanted to become a director,” Sacchetti explains. “He was trying to meet Dario for advice. I managed to acquire Dario’s number for him, and made an appointment. Dario told Luigi he wanted to read his project, but Luigi had none. That same night I sat myself down at the typewriter and produced an 11-page story—my first! That was The Cat o’ Nine Tails (1971). It was inspired by an article regarding the XYY chromosome syndrome”—which is sometimes thought to genetically predispose a person to violence.
“Dario taught me practically everything,” Sacchetti praises, “the good and the bad. I owe him a lot, though I do not approve of everything he has done. I have never really liked Cat O’Nine Tails; it’s too mechanical, too cold, without fantasy. It’s hard to explain, but it’s as if something were missing. It was structured like a classical mystery, whereas both Dario and I had something else in mind.”
That same year, Sacchetti also worked with Mario Bava, writing the original story for A Bay of Blood (1971), which he says is “one of the films I recall with the most satisfaction.” Both were released in 1971, and Twitch of the Death Nerve’s place in genre history is assured by the fact that it anticipated Friday the 13th’s brutal body-count format by a decade. It even contained a suggestively cruel and striking image reproduced almost exactly in Friday’s first sequel: writhing lovers impaled together on a spear.
Having worked with two of Italy’s greatest horror directors on his first two projects, Sacchetti was off to a running start. Losing no momentum, he had four films released the following year. He also married Elisa Livia Briganti, a screenwriter herself; they have two children (“two wonderful monsters,” he laughs), and have collaborated on some 20 screenplays, including Zombie, A Blade in the Dark and Manhattan Baby. In his first 10 years of writing for the cinema, Sacchetti worked on almost three dozen movies.
One of the most common criticisms of Italian cinema is that all it does is rip off American hits, and there’s certainly an argument to be made. American films dominate the world market, and a major American hit will indeed generate a series of Italian variations on the theme. Sacchetti’s filmography offers a virtual textbook illustration of the way the system works. There are cannibal/zombie flicks (post-Dawn of the Dead), action knockoffs (post-Lethal Weapon), shark movie rip offs (post Jaws) and Vietnam movies (post The Deer Hunter), as well as American-style policiers and, of course, gialli, which are psychological mystery/thrillers in the tradition of Psycho.
Sacchetti’s contributions to the subgenre include Perché quelle strane gocci di sangue sul corpo di Jennifer? (“Why the Strange Drops of Blood on Jennifer’s Body?”) and Sette Orchidee macchiate di rosso (“Seven Orchids With Red Spots”), both released in 1972 and directed by Giuliano Carnemio and Umberto Lenzi, respectively. Though the titles are fabulous, Sacchetti dismisses the films as minor efforts. “My contribution to Perché quelle strane gocci di sangue… was tiny,” he stresses. “I only did a little polish on the script. Sette Orchidee is another small giallo about a serial killer; once again, the story was not mine, and I only
polished the screenplay. Lenzi, however, is a nice, funny man and a very hard worker. I worked well with him, but on very, very low-budget productions.”
Mario Bava’s Shock (1977) was released two years later in the U.S. as Beyond the Door 2 (in an effort to pass it off as a sequel to Ovidio Assonitis/Oliver Hellman’s 1974 Exorcist knockoff Beyond the Door), was Sacchetti’s second project with the Godfather of gialli. It was also Bava’s last film, and is a remarkably atmospheric thriller about a woman (Daria Nicolodi) and her son, who may be communicating with the ghost of his dead father. “Mario had a wonderful sense of humor and a lot of talent,” recalls Sacchetti. “He helped me understand that to everything there is a turning point, and that there is always an ironia twist. He was very afraid of things, but he tackled his fears with irony, amusing himself and others.”
Restrained and elegant, Beyond the Door 2 was a far cry from Fulci’s The Psychic and Deodato’s notorious The Last Survivor, both released in Italy the same year. Sacchetti partially disowns the graphic Last Survivor, explaining, “That was originally an adventure story.” Much of what goes on, however, are adventures in gut-crunching, animal and human; The Last Survivor’s reputation as a top-of-the-line gross-out is well-deserved. “The violence was added by Deodato,” the writer continues. “He has an awful relationship with women, like Fulci. They both have sadistic inclinations, even though they are both good directors and nice guys. I had very little to do with this movie.” Despite this experience, Sacchetti worked again with Deodato on his recent slasher film Camping del terrore/Body Count(1986)
The Psychic (1977) starred former model Jennifer (Scanners) O’Neill as a woman haunted by visions, and was Sacchetti’s first movie for Fulci, who needs little introduction to gore fans. They went on to collaborate on Zombie (1979), The Gates of Hell (1981) and The House by the Cemetery (1981) The New York Ripper (1982), Manhattan Baby (1982) and I Guerrieri dell’anno 2072 (“Warriors of the Year 2072,” 1983). “Fulci is a very exhausting man,” Sacchetti observes. “Working with him is neither amusing nor relaxing. I have created for him a variety of great successes, but I am happy to have stopped working with him because, among other things, he doesn’t seem to be able to change with the times.”
Perhaps the most outrageous title on which they worked together was I Guerrieri dell’anno 2072/Warriors of the Year 2072 (1984), which sounds like a futuristic gladiator movie-not what one usually associates with Fulci. “This is a peculiar movie,” Sacchetti laughs. “It came out very badly due to Fulci, who didn’t understand it, and the production, which lacked money. The strange thing is that several years later an American movie, The Running Man, came out which was practically identical to it.”
It was for Fulci that Sacchetti cowrote what may be his most famous film, at least in the United States. Zombie, a cannibal ghoul flick starring Mia’s sister Tisa Farrow, is fondly remembered for the poster that featured a wormy zombie face and the no-nonsense slogan “We are going to eat you.’ Called Zombi 2 in Italy, the film was marketed there as the sequel to Dawn of the Dead, which was called Zombi in Europe. Dawn was released in 1979; Zombi 2 was out in Italy that same year, and arrived Stateside in 1980. Although the ads make it seem as though Zombie takes place in New York, it actually features only a few minutes of location footage there. The rest of the film unfolds on a tropical island, where flesheaters run amok.
“The success of George Romero’s Dawn of the Dead here in Italy inspired a small production company to make an imitation,” Sacchetti details. “My problem was to write a story featuring zombies without copying Romero’s movie; the script was written in 15 days. Elisa and I thought up an exotic story, as opposed to Romero’s urban one. In his movie the zombies are given a social character, while in ours they are only the dead who have come out of their tombs.” Zombie is credited only to Briganti, but Sacchetti confesses, “I didn’t sign the screenplay then for tax reasons. This is the first time I have admitted publicly that I cooperated with my wife in writing this movie!
Zombie is one of Fulci’s best known films, but ironically, he wasn’t the original choice to direct. “The director should have been Enzo G. Castellari,” Sacchetti reveals, referring to the director with whom he worked on Great White and 1990: The Bronx Warriors (1982). “But he was replaced by Fulci, because Fulci wanted less money.”
For its part, Great White, a Jaws steal released in Italy as L’ultimo squalo/The Last Shark (1981), was one of the low points of Sacchetti’s career. “First, Gianfranco Clerici and Vincenzo Mannini wrote it, not 1,” the scripter frowns. “The story was ugly and, moreover, very similar to Spielberg’s Jaws. So similar, in fact, that Universal was able to obtain an injunction against its being shown in the U.S.. Castellari was unsatisfied and called me to see if we could save something. But this happened a week before they were to start shooting, so I could help very little. If I could turn back time, this is one of the things I would never do, just as I wouldn’t let ‘producer friends’ tag my name on movies like Pierino contro tutti (1981).”
Sacchetti’s next cannibal zombie epic for Fulci was rather uninspired: The Gates of Hell/City of the Living Dead (1980) is just more of the same old zombies shuffling and munching. Not so Cannibals in the Streets (1980), written for Antonio Margheriti as Apocalypse Domani (“Apocalypse Tomorrow”). The original title suggests a variation on Francis Coppola’s Vietnam saga, but viewers lucky enough to catch this film during its brief U.S. release in 1982 are unlikely to forget John Saxon as a Green Beret turned cannibal by his Vietnam experiences.
“The movie attempts to mix two genres: war and horror,” comments Sacchetti. “It’s about three Marines coming back from the war. Upon returning to the United States, they cannot reintegrate themselves into society, and they pursue their ‘habit of eating human flesh. They have become ‘living zombies.’ The message behind the movie is that war makes men into cannibals.”
The flesh-eating theme crops up again in Demons (1985), though that film is planted firmly back in the realm of the supernatural. Produced by Argento, Demons started life as a three-part anthology script. Argento and director Lamberto Bava liked the first segment best, and Sacchetti’s story of a movie theater whose patrons are turned into slavering zombie demons was expanded to feature length. The results were successful enough to spawn a sequel the following year, and Sacchetti also cowrote the screenplay for Demons 2 (1986) with Argento, Bava and Franco Ferrini. In all, Sacchetti has worked on 11 films with Lamberto Bava, including six films made for Italian television. But they haven’t been among his favorite projects. “What can I say about Lamberto?” he shrugs. “He’s not Mario, and I don’t like his works.”
One potentially confusing entry in Sacchetti’s filmography is 1980’s The Man Hunter, a Vietnam film shot in the Philippines and credited to Jesus Franco. This is not, however, a film by the legendary Spanish director; it was made by an Italian, Franco Prosperi, using Franco’s name as his pseudonym. Why anyone would want to appropriate Franco’s name is a mystery; for his part, Sacchetti left his name off the film as well.
Talking to the genial screenwriter, it’s clear that while he describes himself jokingly as the “King of Italian B-movies,” he doesn’t take a casual attitude towards carnage in the cinema; he’s a far cry from the gorehound you’d expect, and has done some serious thinking about violence in art and in real life. “I don’t believe that violence in film influences violence in real life,” he says carefully. “In fact, quite the opposite. I think violence in real life influences the cinema. But I don’t like pointless violence-in my movies there is always an ironic twist. Among writers, for example, I prefer Stephen King to Clive Barker.” Hard to believe, coming from a man who’s scripted acts of mayhem too numerous to count, but Sacchetti insists, “Essentially, I am a dramatic author.”
Dardano Sacchetti Interview
Your screen writing career began at the very top, with Dario Argento’s Cat O’Nine Tails (1971)… is it fair to say that the climactic revelation of the killer’s identity in that one is a bit of a “cheat”, given that the guilty character had only played a very minor role up to that point?
Dardano Sacchetti: That’s right but then in those days, especially in Italy, we were always doing that.
Your work on that Argento film got you the job of writing a highly influential Mario Bava picture known under a multitude of titles… Twitch Of The Death Nerve/A Bay of Blood (1971)
Dardano Sacchetti: I wrote it as Reazione A Catena (“Chain Reaction”). Although only my second film, written when I was very young and knew nothing about cinema, that’s the movie I’m most fond of… my masterpiece.
There’s that big twist at the end involving the children… much has been said about the use of children in Fulci’s films but they’ve featured in so many that you’ve written for other directors, it’s tempting to conclude that these characters are down to you
Dardano Sacchetti: I’ve always had child characters in my movies, the use of such characters is part of my imaginary world. Lucio wasn’t bothered about investigating child psychology, in fact he didn’t like having children around on his sets.
It’s a pity you couldn’t put your “trademark” on the plot of Reazione A Catena, considering how many highly successful American films subsequently took so much from it…
Dardano Sacchetti: Yes, it would have made me a very rich man!
You’ve been quoted as saying that you rarely watch the films you’ve written, but you did watch Sette Note In Nero… should we conclude from this that you are more comfortable with the idea of giallo than with horror?
Dardano Sacchetti: I’ve been misquoted there, in fact I always watch the films that are made from my scripts. Sette Note in Nero is a film born out of an abortive project that Fulci and his writer Gianviti had been working on for six months. De Laurentiis then called me to help out. Fulci and I immediately argued. I proposed that we ditch the original project, which was called Deadly Therapy and suggested the basic idea that became Sette Note In Nero. I’m comfortable with giallo, with horror, also police or dramatic stories… I’ve written 177 scripts of all kinds. Basically, I’m a writer.
Fulci himself was very ambivalent about his status as a cult Horror director, wasn’t he?
Dardano Sacchetti: When I first met Fulci he loved Agatha Christie-type mysteries but he didn’t like the thriller genre and had never seen a horror movie nor even read a horror novel. Fulci’s background was in comedy and musical films. He was, in every respect, a “classic” Italian director of those times. After the extraordinary commercial success of Zombi 2 he read Lovecraft for the first time and this is very apparent in his second horror film, City Of The Living Dead…
I know that foreign distributors and therefore Italian producers demanded more zombies, whereas Fulci had originally not wanted them to be in either City Of The Living Dead or The Beyond…
Dardano Sacchetti: Yes, the Germans asked for more zombies and Fulci took this on board. In fact it was me who really didn’t want to use more zombies. My screenplay for The Beyond provided for a different finale, set in an amusement park…
That’s fantastic… I’ve got a UK press kit for The Beyond which contains a synopsis that varies wildly from what actually happens in the film. I’ve always suspected that it was drawn from an abandoned early version of your script and what you’ve just said would seem to confirm this.
Dardano Sacchetti: The scene was too expensive and producer Fabrizio De Angelis – who always had an eye on the money – decided to cut it and asked me for a zombie finale like the one you see now. His big priority was always cutting the budget.
Can you tell us about the changes that he imposed on Manhattan Baby?
Dardano Sacchetti: He made just one change, he introduced the bullshit about the medallion, shot in Egypt. The only reason of this was again the economic one because back then there wasn’t much tax control over money going abroad from Italy.
What opinion did you form of Fulci’s relationship with De Angelis?
Dardano Sacchetti: Fulci always had to put up with the fact that De Angelis was an amiable man but a terrible producer, always ready to sacrifice even the best things about a movie just to save a few bucks. There was a period of a few years there where De Angelis was the only guy producing Italian horror films and Fulci was the only guy directing them. When things were going well, De Angelis should have been investing more money on projects, instead he kept on cutting the budgets, not realising that after American films like The Exorcist, with those great special effects, it was no longer feasible to do horror on the cheap.
Going back to you and Fulci’s first collaboration for De Angelis, why did Elisa get all the credit for Zombi 2, when you had co-written it? Was Argento’s antipathy towards the project a factor in this?
Dardano Sacchetti: I didn’t sign Zombi 2 because while I was writing it my father died and partly out of superstition, partly out of respect for him, I decided not to sign the script. Dario Argento had nothing to do with it. Zombi 2 was written a year before it was released and under another title. Dario knew nothing about Zombi 2 until it was released in Italy, shortly before the film he made with Romero. He felt then that the new title, which was the idea of producer Ugo Tucci, would damage their business.
Apart from Zombi 2, there are various other films you didn’t sign… Amityville II, Massacre In Dinosaur Valley, Hands Of Steel, Seven Blood Stained Orchids, Why These Strange Drops Of Blood On The Body Of Jennifer?… are there any notable ones that you’d now like the world to know about?
Dardano Sacchetti: I signed all the films that I wanted to sign, as for the ones I didn’t… I’ll mention just one so you’ll understand the kind of thing that happens. Deliria (Stagefright), as Michele Soavi well knows, is a film that I worked on but it was as a favour to a great friend who needed to compare his ideas with mine. It was a friendship thing that I do not regret and for which I do not claim any credit. On the other hand, I have also signed films that are not mine: two examples are the Umberto Lenzi comedy Pierino La Peste Alla Riscossa (for which De Angelis paid me to take a credit, on administrative grounds) and Aldo Grimaldi’s La Cameriera Seduce I Villeggianti, a film which I quickly abandoned because they did not pay me, after which it was changed from a giallo into an erotic film. Unfortunately my signature remained attached to it.
As somebody who’s worked with “The Big Three“ of Italian Horror and Thriller… Bava, Argento and Fulci…… what professional and personal impressions did you take from working with each of them?
Dardano Sacchetti: Working with Bava was a real pleasure and I learned so many things. He didn’t have any hand in the screenplay, that was not his job, but once he had read it he erupted with ideas for special effects and how to realise them. Dario, on the other hand, loves to work on the screenplay, so collaborating with him is a real torment. You know when it’s started but you never know when it will end. Dario often changes his mind within the course of a day and throws away great things to start all over again. Writing with him is always very tense and clashes are inevitable. Every project ended with a fight and sometimes we would have no contact for years, then there was peace and everything started again, but always ending with another fight. Dario is tormented by the idea of perfection, so he’s never satisfied. Fulci never originated a script, he was at home waiting for me to deliver the job. He was very into the “strong” scenes but always waited for the opinion of the producers before expressing his. He always went along with the requirements of the production.
The disappointment I’ve often felt on seeing the movies made from my scripts is usually down to production shortcomings rather than the way they’ve been shot. I prefer to see them alone and when they’ve been out for a while. I have a very bad character, as everyone knows and I’ve often clashed with producers. There’s often been disharmony with directors, too… actually my relationship with Fulci was exemplary in this respect. I recognise that Lucio was an excellent professional with good technique, more so than Argento but Argento took things to a level that Lucio never attained. Dario was a visionary who could really bring nightmares to the screen. Fulci was a hard working professional but he never managed to transcend that status.
Any memories of any of the other celebrated Italian genre directors you wrote for? Say, Sergio Martino or Antonio Margheriti?
Dardano Sacchetti: I don’t remember much about writing for Martino. We didn’t get on and never really connected. I helped out the production company Dania (which was by run by Sergio’s brother Luciano) a couple of times, but that was about it.
I have good memories of Margheriti, even if he did not always “get” what I was doing. We collaborated on a good movie called Apocalypse Tomorrow, a bad title imposed by the producer to suggest a link with the Coppola movie (and released in anglophone markets as Cannibal Apocalypse, of course – BF) then a Vietnam War movie, The Last Hunter… another exploitive title. We worked well together, though I recall that Antonio paid little attention to the screenplays and was always in a hurry to get on set, where he would be able to fix any problems… he was a typical “on set” kind of guy.
Please tell us about writing Il Diabolo Sulle Colline, the last film of the great Cottofavi…
Dardano Sacchetti: It originated from a casual meeting, arranged by the producer Pescarolo. We worked together for about three months on the adaptation of a difficult novel by Cesare Pavese. The work was edgy. Vittorio Cottafavi was a great director but very bourgeois, without great ambitions, a gentleman who was already satisfied with his life. He didn’t want to take any risks, he felt safe within a certain classic tradition. He was very good technically but had a very old-fashioned mentality. The film’s theme was the sexual restlessness of a young married woman and the developing sexuality of three students… a “rites of passage” kind of thing. Cottafavi was very “cerebral” in way he handled this theme but it turned into one of the best films I’ve worked one, one of my personal favourites.
Was it a different thing, for instance, to write a cop film for Lenzi than it was to write one for, say, Stelvio Massi?
Dardano Sacchetti: Yes, with Lenzi there was more of chance than there was when working with some of the others to achieve something worthwhile, he was more professional and had more of a “movie culture”. Massi was a really good man but he did not have too much ambition, he was content to work without stretching himself.
From my meetings with Fulci and Lenzi it seemed to me that the former was acting up to his reputation as “difficult” and “eccentric” but that Lenzi really was a very difficult man…
Dardano Sacchetti: Lenzi was always a very good collaborator (at least, with me) but on the set he acted up a lot. He had an abrasive character and very abrupt ways. I had a much harder time with Fulci, actually, because he was so suspicious. He was regarded as an intimidating man but he was essentially a shy one, hiding behind this mask of aggression. He delivered these ugly outbursts at the cast and crew but it was all part of an act, he was well known for it. That was a bad habit that occurred throughout the Italian cinemas of the ‘50s and ‘60s onwards, it was a period of great cynicism. Lucio was a good man, brought down by fate. He had problems with his health, with his family, with work but he was a professional, a great professional. His big flaw was suspiciousness. He didn’t trust anyone, always feared betrayal and being ambushed. This tendency complicated all of his relationships. When I was called by De Laurentiis to work on Sette Note In Nero, Fulci started calling me “the producers’ spy”, as if my role was to take control. I didn’t like this and here is where our mutual antipathy originated.
As well as the many personal problems Fulci suffered, it has been suggested that he was blacklisted after some of his films offended the Christian Democrat establishment… do you know if there was any truth to this?
Dardano Sacchetti: Fulci’s career took a dip but I cannot tell you whether the thing you describe was a factor in this. The truth is that in those years there was terrorism in Italy… these were the infamous “years of lead”. Nobody went out to the movies anymore, movie production collapsed and revenue declined. It was a black era, people didn’t want to watch comedies while there was gunfire on the streets. That’s why the horror films did so well. Zombi 2 was released at the end of 1979 when the worst had passed, but those events had left this trail of blood…
A moral panic is what happened… Fulci’s most notorious film in the UK and other territories was The New York Ripper. Early drafts of the screenplay allegedly featured a killer suffering from progeria, an idea later recycled in Deodato’s Un Delitto Poco Comune…
Dardano Sacchetti: I wasn’t too involved in this movie. Fulci wanted to work with some other scriptwriters, Clerici and Mannino, who delivered a screenplay based on progeria. The killer suffered from accelerating ageing so he could escape the police, who were looking for a young man. Ten days before shooting began, De Angelis and (especially) Fulci looked at the screenplay they had and were worried that it was going to make for a weak film. They called me and in four or five days I came up with a more traditional kind of plot about this killer of prostitutes. Fulci very much liked the idea of prostitutes being killed in the style of the historical Jack The Ripper but it’s not a movie of which I’m very fond, nor do I consider it as my own.
Knowing what you knew about both of them, what did you think when you heard that Argento was going to produce a Fulci film?
Dardano Sacchetti: Do you want to know what really happened? That was a very crafty move on Dario’s part. All three of us were together for the final evening of Fantafestival at the Barberini cinema in Rome. This was the first time that Argento and Fulci were together on the same stage. There was applause for Argento, obviously, but when they presented Lucio there was a real ovation because the fans had begun to seriously love him. Dario, who is very attentive to these things, immediately turned the situation in his favour. He got up and announced, to general surprise, that he would produce Fulci’s next movie, with me writing it. As if they were hearing about the coming together of a “holy trinity”, the audience burst into frantic applause. From that moment on, Dario totally lost interest in the matter, leaving me and Fulci a free hand. Fulci wanted to make a new Mummy movie. I wrote a beautiful treatment that we sent to Los Angeles, where Dario was preparing his next movie. He hated it, flew into a rage and fired me over the phone. Lucio then began working with another writer on a House Of Wax remake but died shortly afterwards and the film was ultimately directed by Sergio Stivaletti. The irony was that two years later the Americans remade The Mummy and coincidentally, the first part of that movie was identical to my story.
When Dario was producing other directors like Lamberto Bava and Michele Soavi, do you think he dominated their work in the same way that Spielberg did with Tobe Hooper on Poltergeist?
Dardano Sacchetti: That was certainly the case with Lamberto and he tried it with Soavi too, though with less success… Soavi had his own ideas about what he wanted to do.
How much of your original work remains onscreen in La Chiesa?
Dardano Sacchetti: This is another of those films which I did not sign. I don’t know… I just wrote a first draft of the script, then I had the usual fight with Dario. I did not see the movie so I can’t tell you what the differences are and how much of my script remains.
After several years of successful collaboration, you and Fulci fell out over the project Per Sempre…
Dardano Sacchetti: Per Sempre was a real bone of contention between us. We hadn’t seen each other for some time when he called me because with he was working, with Gianviti, on an incoherent project involving sex and Nazi zombies, which he eventually shot years later (This would be1988’s The Ghosts Of Sodom – BF). I wrote Per Sempre, he found a producer who never made the film and I wasn’t paid. The script remained my property and later I sold it as part a TV series, directed by Lamberto Bava. Fulci, who was going through the darkest period of his life and hadn’t worked for some time, made a big scene with the producers claiming that the property was in some way his. He loved Per Sempre and would certainly have made a better job of it than Lamberto Bava, whose direction was too “cold”. The producers offered a tiny settlement, which Fulci accepted. We made our peace a few years later but never talked again about Per Sempre.
Any final memories of Lucio Fulci and the part he played in your life and career?
Dardano Sacchetti: Lucio and I never had a great personal relationship. We didn’t go to parties together… outside of work we saw very little of each other. We had our ups and downs, but that’s quite normal. We never really got to know each other properly but he did give me a dog – Apollo – and that’s a gesture which I remember with great fondness. In conclusion, I regarded Fulci as an excellent professional, if not exactly the greatest teacher.
You worked with Mario Bava again, towards the end of his career, on Shock… was this kind of subtle, suggestive Horror more to his taste than the gory stuff?
Dardano Sacchetti: Shock was conceived under another title: Al 33 Di Via Orologio Fa Sempre Freddo (“It’s Always Cold At 33 Clock Street”). Mario told me that he hated dealing with actors and joked that he would be happier working as a furniture maker so I wrote him a story about furniture possessed by the spirit of a child (my eternal theme, which I reused yet again in Per Sempre). Shock had a troubled history, the producer went out of business and it was only made five or six years later.
Is it true that Lamberto Bava collaborated on the direction of Shock?
Dardano Sacchetti: Mario wanted to launch Lamberto as a director and so gave him credit for directing some of that film.
Can you please tell us something about the project that you and Mario Bava were working on when he died?
Dardano Sacchetti: It was called Anomaly and was going to be produced by Roger Corman and Sam Arkoff from the American side and Lucisano in Italy. My idea was that at the edge of the Universe there was a long, tall wall dividing light from darkness, good from evil, etc… like a Gothic cathedral, the wall was covered with demonic figures, all the evils in the world were carved and animated on it. A ship arrives at the wall to look for the survivors of an accident. They walk through the only opening in the wall, an immense door and find themselves in the dark. Before them is a black river on which an “Egyptian” boat sails… essentially, this was Stargate before Stargate.
Every several years the Italian film industry manages something which reminds us of the challenging material that it regularly presented in the ’70s and early ’80s, e.g. Lamberto Bava’s The Torturer or Federico Zampaglione’s Tulpa (both of which you wrote)… is it conceivable that these films could ever start to be produced in Italy again in significant numbers?
Dardano Sacchetti: I had problems with both of those directors. Lamberto didn’t understand my screenplay, which was a kind of satire about the risks that these girls will take in search of fame and celebrity. He handed it over to two young writers who simplified it to an extent with which he was comfortable. As for Tulpa, Zampaglione emphasised its erotic aspects to the detriment of its thriller elements. Neither of these films lived up to their potential and they didn’t register with their target audiences. On the evidence of those experiences, the answer to your question is… no, I don’t think so.
The House Of Freudstein