The suggested eroticism of The Vampire and the Ballerina was amped up in Polselli’s quasi-sequel, which was a troubled production started in 1961 and was not released until three years later, it was started as Il vampiro dell’opera (The Vampire of the Opera) and once box office fortunes changed against vampires, the name was slightly altered. Along with Piero Regnoli’s L’ultima preda del vampire (The Playgirls and the Vampire), even more eroticism was added to the bloodsucking. Of course, Gastaldi also wrote all three of these movies, even if he demurred that they were movies similar to others he wrote, only with vampires.

The difference in the few years in between movies is that now the dancers may embrace and even have a timid kiss between one another. Those that devour Polselli’s later films will giggle a bit at this; no corncob penetration here. For 1964, it had to be pretty titillating. So is the opening, in which the monstrous fiend in the opera chases a woman in a nightgown who is carrying the much-needed candelabra until he stabs her with a pitchfork.

Sandro (Marco Mariani) is the leader of an experimental dance group with Giulia (Barbara Hawards) as the star. Soon they are attacked by the titular bad guy, Stefano (Giuseppe Addobatti), and his five vampire wives. The human victims must keep dancing to battle Stefano’s psychic attacks and the suggestions he’s put inside their minds to stay within his crumbling theater.

Polselli’s later films aren’t just insane. They look that way as he never stops moving the camera. That starts happening here as well and I can’t get enough of this movie. Let that fog flow in, chain those vampire women to the wall and let’s dance.

You can watch this on Tubi or buy it on the Severin Danza Macabra: The Italian Gothic Collection Volume 1 set.