Genevieve soon finds out about the legend surrounding the estate. She is told by the maid that the land was originally the property of Alaric de Marnac, Paulīs ancestor, who was rumored to practice witchcraft and allegedly used his skills to murder his adulterous wife. According to the legend, Alaric rises from the tomb every 100 years and slaughters whoever happens to be his descendantīs wife.

Itīs not long before Genevieve begins having strange experiences that make her condition worsen while Paul is often away on business. Is it the curse of the Marnac family or a scheme to inherit her wealth?

THE VERDICT: Film distribution being what it is, Paul Naschy, Jacinto Molinaīs stage name, is better known in the United States and England than in Mexico. In fact, throughout Central and South America movies from other Spanish-speaking countries are rarely seen. Other than a handful of titles shown in festivals and the occasional commercial release of a comedy or drama from Spain or Argentina, movies in Spanish from other parts of the world remain a mystery for Mexican audiences.

I canīt remember any of the better known Naschy films being shown on television or available at video stores. Itīs not just Naschy who is virtually unknown around here. The work of Jess Franco, another Spanish director who has attained some recognition in places like Germany, France and the U.S., is as hard to find in Mexico as Naschyīs.

Molina has a reputation among some American critics as a horror legend in his native country, but this doesnīt seem to be the case, judging from some Spanish websites Iīve seen. Critics are as likely to praise his dedication to the horror genre as they are to dismiss his work as muddled and uninspired. Molina often complains that critics have unfairly neglected his contributions to the Spanish film industry and ignored the masterpieces he has made. Even his admirers point out that Molina sometimes lapses into megalomania, and mention his autobiography "Memorias de un Hombre Lobo" ("Memoirs of a Wolf Man") as proof of this.

At any rate, I would jump at the chance to see more of Naschyīs work, especially the movies he made in the early 70īs like La Noche de Walpurgis (released in America as Blood Moon) and El Espanto Surge de la Tumba (U.S.: Horror Rises From The Tomb). Instead, I have to settle for a movie from the early 80īs, widely regarded as the low point in Naschyīs career, when he moved away from horror and got stuck doing comedies and thrillers. Among the few monster movies at this stage of his career are a couple of Japanese co-productions, La Bestia y la Espada Magica and El Carnaval de las Bestias. The former sees Naschy in his familiar role as the werewolf Waldemar Daninsky, while the second is some sort of cannibal movie.

As for Latidos de Panico, the very first scene shows a naked woman running away, very slowly, from a medieval knight who chases her on horseback. The screaming girl stumbles and falls and her assailant catches up with her and smashes her repeatedly with a club.

So far, so good. Once the opening credits roll, however, weīre left with the familiar story of a woman apparently being driven insane. Itīs done well enough, with the usual shadowy figures creeping around the house and a dream sequence thrown in, but not being a fan of this particular storyline I was a little bored by it.

The awkward dialogue doesnīt help, most of it involves a number of characters telling each other things they already know to fill in the viewer, and the way the actors deliver it makes for a ponderous first half. I should explain that Spanish actors are notorious for their vocal stylings. Most of them have a perplexing habit of whispering half their lines, meaning that in order to understand whatīs going on you have to crank up the volume and grimace your way through if you happen to be a musician.

In the second half the movie improves significantly. Itīs almost like Molina realized that a contemporary audience would be turned off by a story that stuck too closely to the usual "old dark house" tale so he threw in some nudity and mayhem to keep viewers interested. It is at this point that the pace quickens and we see most of the cast members die every five minutes or so, usually with a sharp object of some sort in their body. As usual with Naschy, the women in the film canīt keep their hands off him, so thereīs also plenty of nudity.

Finally, without giving anything away, it turns out at the end that there might be some truth to the legend of Alaric de Marnac after all. Spanish critics agree that this isnīt one of Naschyīs best movies, but even with the slow-moving first half itīs good enough to satisfy any horror fan. The effects are not as accomplished as in some American and Italian movies of the same era, but thereīs a lot of gore and nastiness. In the end Paul Naschy/Jacinto Molina will probably be remembered for bridging the gap between the Universal style of horror and the more violent brand of the 70īs and 80īs.

To some fans of Bela Lugosi or Boris Karloff doing new versions of the Dracula and Frankenstein stories with a lot of blood and skin is almost a sacrilege. I donīt understand this reaction at all. It probably has a lot to do with the fact that cinema is much more concerned with originality than other forms of art, like the theater or classical music, where anyone from students to world class performers can do their take on a masterpiece.

If people who are passionate about piano concertos and Greek tragedies can ignore the way these works are often mangled by beginners or deluded innovators, then I think horror fans should be more lenient with directors or writers who want to do their own interpretation of the classics.

Besides, Iīm the kind of guy who thinks porn videos with titles like Missionary Position Impossible and Shaving Ryanīs Privates are great. What I like about them is that the people responsible for shooting those videos donīt think for a second that theyīre making great art. They know itīs just a goofy tape for someone to jack off to.

Too often it feels like critics are trying to convince us that horror flicks should be transcendent, elaborate on the human condition and things like that. When someone like Jacinto Molina comes along and makes a bunch of dumb movies with monsters in īem, these critics dismiss his work for failing to change the world in a fundamental way, which is something that Molina and other like-minded individuals never meant to do in the first place.

So what if the mainstream thinks horror and sci-fi arenīt "real movies"? Let them agonize over the Dogme ī95 manifesto and Academy award nominations. Those overblown, self-important, boring pictures canīt hold a candle to b-movies when it comes to fun.

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