One of the great artists of his generation that as inexplicably faded into relative obscurity is Corrado Farina, who made valuable contributions in every conceivable medium, but has yet to be given the respect and acclaim he deserves. As a filmmaker, he was primarily known for his documentaries, but there are a pair of fantastic narrative features that he directed in the 1970s, both of which have developed cult status and been celebrated within the small circles that appreciate Farina’s vision. Of the two, it is They Have Changed Their Face (Italian: …Hanno cambiato faccia)that is perhaps the most well-regarded, insofar as it is likely his crowning achievement from both a narrative and technical standpoint, and the film that firmly established him as a fascinating artistic voice at a time when cinema was undergoing some significant changes, both within his native Italy and across Europe, where many ambitious young directors were setting out to tell socially-conscious stories about major issues of the day. The film follows an office worker who is told by his superiors that the president of the large corporation for which he works (and who seemingly no one working there has met in person) has invited him to his luxurious villa in the Italian countryside, where he intends to discuss a very important matter, despite the protagonist’s confusion as to why he has been chosen, as well as the reasons for having to venture quite a distance for such a vague meeting. While making his way there, he finds himself getting lost in several small villages occupied by people who are seemingly in a perpetual state of psychosis, and upon his arrival encounters the enigmatic secretary, who immediately beguiles their new visitor with her deceptive charms, leading him down a path of confusion and terror as he tries to make sense of the surroundings. A strange film that is as daring as it is outright terrifying, They Have Changed Their Face is a landmark in Italian horror, coming at a time when masters like Mario Bava were gradually phasing out, and new talents such as Dario Argento were starting to take their place at the proverbial altar, this film being the perfect marriage of the two in both style and substance, as well as unhinged madness that provokes something much deeper and unsettling beneath the surface.

One of the traits of Italian cinema produced in the decades following the 1940s is a decidedly anti-fascist point of view, and nearly every work (whether studio-financed or independent) tended to be quite political to some degree, even if not overtly so. The spectre of the past and its indiscretions lingered heavily over every facet of society, and it is not surprising that art was one of the primary beneficiaries of this constant need to express anger, frustration and curiosity. Farina was a multi-talented artist who used different media to explore his issues with the society into which he was born, and They Have Changed Their Face is very much driven by a sense of existential despair that feels like it comes from a place of genuine concern for his country and how it has endured the post-war era. Like many of his contemporaries, Farina was firmly on the side of the working class, to the point where he joins them in expressing views that are eerily similar to the discourse of proponents of a Luddite way of life, where technological innovation is not viewed positively, being less about liberation and more about keeping the workers shackled to the point where subservience is absolutely mandatory for corporations to succeed. They Have Changed Their Face is a brutal indictment of capitalism, something that many filmmakers at the time responded to with incredulity and cynicism, knowing that such systems only work to make those at the top wealthier and more influential, while the legions below them are trapped in a system from which they can never escape. All of this is merely contextual, since the film doesn’t explicitly revolve around these issues, but like any great work of post-war Italian art, the politics simply cannot be ignored, as they are the foundation on which the entire narrative stands, with Farina creating a work fueled by anger and despair, showing the corruption caused by power and wealth, as seen through the perspective of someone who realizes that he is merely a cog in the system – but unlike other examples of films that tackle similar themes, there isn’t a triumphant resolution to this film. Once you are a part of the machine, every attempt to escape it only drives you further towards its core, a harrowing truth that many of us only come to realise once it is too late.

However, as tempting as it may be to explore every inch of the philosophical and political underpinnings of this film, They Have Changed Their Face is a much more intriguing work because it not only has a strong conceptual foundation, but chooses to investigate several issues in a much more compelling and unique manner. From the moment we discover that the mysterious autocrat that the protagonist is required to visit is named “Giovanni Nosferatu”, we understand precisely what this film is intending to be, which is that it draws extensively from the folklore of vampires and the iconography usually associated with these creatures. This isn’t technically a vampire film, since the mortality of these characters is a fundamental aspect of the plot. However, in every other element, it functions in quite the same way, particularly in how the film is crafted. This is not a film propelled solely by its story, and there is an argument that what makes this so captivating is not the narrative, but rather the atmosphere – They Have Changed Their Face is enshrouded in a mood of excruciating despair and revulsion, and it could be one of the most hideous films of its era, an intentional choice made by the director, who seems to forego the grandeur and excess of many gothic horrors and gialli from the era, and instead goes for a more unfurnished, dull aesthetic that immerses us in a state of extreme discomfort. Every directorial decision in this film is astonishing and contributes something to the overall experience – the use of handheld photography creates a sense of intimacy with these characters, while the lack of colour in both the city and villages (as well as the enormous estate in which most of the film takes place) creates the feeling that escape is futile, since even if the protagonist can retreat, he’s only going to be venturing into an equally bleak, grotesque world, which has been irrevocably corrupted by capitalism and the greed of those who neglect the working class to the point where they are collectively a husk of what they were before, all hope extinguished and replaced by a widespread state of psychosis. They Have Changed Their Face is extremely disturbing, and while there is nothing particularly explicit about it, the atmosphere incites a feeling of extreme discomfort that is enough to create an enormous amount of unnerving dread in even the most seasoned of viewers.

Much like any film inspired by the myth of Dracula (and while it is only marginally related, we cannot ignore the clear overtures drawn from Bram Stoker’s iconic novel), this film is structured around characters in which the protagonist is perhaps the least interesting, solely because he exists primarily to be our guide into the story, acting as our surrogate rather than being a particularly well-formed character on his own. The allure is not with the protagonist, but rather those who occur around him, which is only logical considering the nature of the story and the perspective it intends to explore. Giuliano Esperati is Alberto, the well-meaning employee plunged into a state of peril after being summoned by the mysterious president of his company, being forced into a precarious situation where he has to make a choice, albeit one in which neither outcome is particularly positive. He’s an effective lead, but his sole purpose is to be the eyes through which we witness this terrifying story, so there isn’t much afforded to him as an actor, despite his good work. The two more prominent performances come from Adolfo Celi, playing the ruthless villain who views everything as a business, including the personal lives of his employees, whom he believes he has the right to exploit in any way he sees fit, even if it means making some deeply unsettling decisions on their behalf. The other is Geraldine Hooper, who is perhaps the most memorable aspect of the film. She portrays Corrina, the personal secretary to the antagonist, who is essentially the catalyst for the events of the story, since she places the protagonist under this spell that causes him to miss every brief window of opportunity he had to escape. Hooper’s androgynous appearance and the fact that we know very little of her personal life adds to the mystique of the performance, which is extremely effective and deeply unsettling, as if we are presented with some otherworldly entity whose presence is very rarely positive, but who draws us into this story with such incredible fervour, we simply cannot look away, even when we are enveloped in layers of existential despair that is perhaps the single most important aspect of this entire film.

They Have Changed Their Face is not an easy film by any means – it often feels as if we have stumbled onto some forbidden visual document that contains secrets none of us were intended to encounter, causing us to be filled with a sense of deep anguish and confusion, especially since it taps into an inherent set of anxieties many of us possess when it comes to the idea that there is some deeper and more sinister cabal guiding society and making the decisions on our behalf. Every film that has tackled this concept has seemingly done so in a way that plays into a sense of paranoia and panic, but very rarely do we have one that doesn’t cause the viewer to become hysterical and manic, but rather recede into a state of extreme despair, where it almost feels like we are burdened with the knowledge possessed within, which conveys the clear reality that power is not only the most addictive narcotic available to those with the resources to demand unlimited amounts, but that those who possess it can take advantage of the system in whatever way they feel is appropriate, even if it means entirely dismantling the social system as a whole. Straddling the line between psychological horror and political manifesto, They Have Changed Their Face is an extraordinary work of socially-charged filmmaking, albeit one that doesn’t inspire radical ideas in the viewer, but rather a feeling of deep horror as we are confronted with harsh realities that may seem outlandish at first, but the layers of discomfort and fear that propels this film being far more effective than a more straightforward approach. Driven primarily by its atmosphere, which is some of the most unnerving and disconcerting of its era, and filled with disquietude and grotesque imagery, the film evokes emotions many of us may not have ever experienced, and somehow manages to be both repulsive and hypnotic, a combination that is perfectly encapsulated in absolutely every frame of this bizarre but brilliant work of unhinged horror.