There are, of course, some hokey touches. One is never *quite* sure just when the film is supposed to take place. There are horses and carriages in the street, yet the costumes are a perplexing mix of Swingin' Sixties silhouettes and 1920s burlesque. The makeup on the female characters is a fantasy of pancake makeup and liquid eyeliner. By the time our heroine is donning her satin ballgown complete with nipple-tassel embelishments, it doesn't seem all that terribly out of place! The soundtrack ping-pongs between tried and true organ-enhanced gloom to wacky slide whistle interludes, making the proceedings strangely bipolar and disorienting.
These fast-and-loose zany elements are always balanced by some sort of striking imagery--Orlof and Morpho transporting an elaborate casket containing their latest victim, or Orlof's daughter alive in her glass cage. Shuddery stuff, that!