Short Night of Glass Dolls (La corta notte delle bambole di vetro, Lado, 1971) – The giallo is a very vague subgenre – and some of the films that are considered part of it bear little similarities to its more common tropes and themes. This one clearly wouldn't be considered close to the genre if it wasn't an Italian film from the early 70s, but there's still a few elements you can link to it. Appearing somewhere between Rosemary's Baby and Eyes Wide Shut, this one does have a very giallesque investigative journalist, but it trades the gloved women killer for a cult with political undertones. In fact, the film is told after-the-fact, by a dead man at the morgue going through his memories of the events (another very giallesque thing to do). The film is renown for its shocking finale, but don't go in wishing Spoorloos. It's gimmicky and not very well executed (the voice-over suddenly switch to his colleague for a quick – and useless – thought during the ending). Could have been a lot better, but still an interesting curiosity. Subpar Morricone score and one or two beautifully lit scenes. 4.5/10
What Have You Done to Solange? (Cosa avete fatto a Solange? Dallamano, 1972) – At the opposite end of the spectrum, this is a classic giallo, with tropes and themes well in place. It distinguishes itself from the lot by restraint only: not much gore or over-the-top effects, no theatrical aesthetics, and an overall more realistic approach, with moral themes that go beyond the series of murders. If you ever – for some reason – want to see a giallo, this is not a bad one. You've got the gloves, the subjective camera, the women victims, the reminiscence, all without doing too much (maybe the sleaze is a little much, and the murderer's fascination for his victims' genitals don't help). Morricone's score is also much better here (very good at times). The only thing that really doesn't work is the spatial construction of the first murder – and well, they go back to it a lot. Short Night of Glass Dolls is a much more original film, but this one is a more conventional giallo, and better executed too. 4.5/10
The Cat o' Nine Tails (Il gatto a nove code, Argento, 1971) – Giallo #3 of my run back into the genre. It's a minor Argento film, and really doesn't live up to the brio of his first feature, but it still showcases hints of a real talent for storytelling and a knack for risky directorial choices (mostly very effective, but in this case some of the transitions just don't work – and what's up with recycling a visual gag from The Pink Panther?). Even more so than What Have You Done to Solange?, the film is a quasi-classical giallo, just a little too restraint, serious and realistic (the killer is just trying to cover his ass, not a maniac at all... in fact, there's an interesting tension between the film's proposition of a killer gene and the killer's motivation). And like Solange, it also ends up as a weak whodunit (too bad because it really had the dream team of giallo investigation with the reporter teaming up with a blind puzzlemaker – and most of the clues were typical to the universe of the director, half heard conversations, the killer cut offscreen on a photograph, etc.). The most amazing thing about the film is in the details: like he did later with Profondo Rosso, Argento gives away the killer through his frame composition. It demands attention, but it's there, not as straight up (and not as an editing masterclass) as it was in Profondo Rosso, here through visual association, but still in plain sight. Ballsy move that pushes my rating up to 6/10.
Blood and Black Lace (6 donne per l'assassino, Bava, 1964) – Is this the very first true giallo? Tough to say, but it certainly set the standard, and way high. The film is a decent classical whodunit on itself, even though the writing is kind of rough (the exposition dialogue to untie the plot is very weak), but it's above all an amazing work of visual extravaganza – a feast for the eyes. Its quasi-neo-baroque aesthetics, with subtle (and pioneer) reflexivity, through mirrors, frames and theatrical settings, is enough to put it among the most important horror films of all times, but it is also very relevant to the gender politics at play in the genre, and an entry you can't overlook regarding the representation of women in films. Its influence on some very important directors that followed (Raoul Ruiz, Peter Greenaway – and a very huge etc.) is undeniable, but mostly it is the source material of the giallo films, and of most of Argento's signature. It even has the killer's face revealed in a quick edit which as said in the previous comment is something Argento will work with to brilliant heights. It doesn't have the great soundtrack that some other gialli have, and it is flawed in dialogue, intrigue, and some weird decisions (speeding up shots for instance), but other than that, it's one of the best of its kind, and certainly the canevas on which everything else was made – and a splendid one. 8/10
Black Belly of the Tarantula (La tarantola dal ventre nero, Cavara, 1971) – Proof that a great title doesn't make a great film, this tale of a blackmailing fake blind man is just as uninteresting as it is bland (and I realize I just spoiled the identity of the killer, but you really should skip this one anyway). It has the poorest and dumbest investigator (who's indirectly responsible for at least 2 of the murders), terrible acting (and atrocious dubbing, but that's a given for most of these films), out of focus shots, and very bad editing – even the Morricone score is pretty weak. It starts off with a pretty naked blond getting a massage, but it's only a tease for sleaze, nothing freaky to report afterwards, except the killer's modus operandi which could have been of troubling perversity had it been better exploited (the link to the tarantula is sadly forced in and could have been interesting – so I guess you should add bad writing to the list of its weaknesses). 2.5/10
The Case of the Bloody Iris (Perché quelle strane gocce di sangue sul corpo di Jennifer?, Carnimeo, 1972) – If, like me, Edwige Fenech is enough for you to enjoy a movie, this one's a pretty solid bet. Otherwise, you might reconsider that choice. This film is blatantly homophobic, kind of racist, and weirdly self-conscious and self-mocking of its portrayal and objectification of women. It has some very inventive camerawork, mixed with bits of (overexposed) cheapo soft porn or quasi-experimental corniness. Again, poor acting and ridiculous dubbing, but more importantly, it has the most ridiculous character reactions ever: after finding a murdered woman in the elevator, one goes “I'm late to work” and the other goes back home ; after being awaken by a man touching her and swearing he was in the room, “oh you must have been dreaming, let's just go back to sleep”, without even checking the room or apartment. Not one for the intellectuals, but it does have Edwige Fenech. 3/10
Puzzle (L'uomo senza memoria, Tessari, 1974) – Tessari is a Jack-of-all-trades (and master of none) who mingled with lots of film genres. Here he does a little romance kind of ok (but kitsch), a little suspense kind of ok, a little crime flick a little better (its mostly a crime flick), but none of that is ever great or really very interesting. In this mix up, the giallo tropes remain very few and discreet, and even more so than Short Night of Glass Dolls, the film would never be associated to the genre if it hadn't been made by an Italian director in the early 70s. It's certainly not a great giallo (it does have a few flashes of repressed memories that belong to the genre), but it's not a complete waste of a film either. 3.5/10
Naked Girl Murdered In the Park (Ragazza tutta nuda assassinata nel parco, Brescia, 1972) – TUBI complicated things a little with this one, with sound going out of synch or switching quite a few times to the original Italian. Like the film itself, the experience greatly lacked in fluidity and wasn't the smoothest ride. It's available under it's alternate title, Girl Murdered In the Park, but no worry, the lady is still tutta nuda. It's an inheritance fraud/revenge crime story, nicely dressed as a giallo (especially once they get to the remote mansion). It has the right tone, even if it feels dated and that the story wanders pretty far from the conventional giallo. Weird undertones of incest which will never be addressed ultimately compensate for the bland (mostly offscreen) murders and general lack of tension. The scene where the culprit explains the whole scheme to a painting (yes) to make sure we understand what's going on might insult some spectators' intelligence. 3/10
Eye In the Labyrinth (L'occhio nel labirinto, Caiano, 1972) – Surprising minor giallo that opens with a Borges quote that suggests narrative labyrinths and deceptiveness. The film starts accordingly with a disorientating dream sequence that looks very good. The aesthetics will not be maintained, but the direction remains often nervous and inventive. Even though the dubbing is superior to most of these films, the sound really is the weakest point here (at least, the version TUBI offers): atrocious use of music (dumb and probably unwanted counterpoints or sudden amplification with cuts to saturation), and maybe even worse, the hilarious beheading and stabbing sound effects. Far-fetched outcome to an investigation that often feels like it's left aside (and maybe it makes sense that it would), but I do appreciate that a quick visual clue could get the spectator to identify the murderer – it's far from the brilliant strategies of Argento, but it's still fun to know there's a game to be played. Overall a pretty fun film, but not a pamphlet for consent. 4.5/10
Knife of Ice (Il coltello di ghiaccio, Lenzi, 1972) – The knife of ice is from a quote from Poe and doesn't exist in the film (fear is a knife of ice, I guess it implies that this movie should be scary, which it's not). Lenzi is a capable director and I was expecting a lot more than this pretty bland whodunit (it's not close to being his best giallo) with a twist that kind of goes in the same direction as Eye In the Labyrinth, but here you just don't care. Also, Carroll Baker is a pretty bad actress. 2.5/10
The Strange Vice of Mrs. Wardh (Lo strano vizio della signora Wardh, 1971, Martino) – True example of a giallo as it should be, Martino's film is a stylized thriller with all of the right ingredients. It's also the first of a series of very important films to the genre. After making a few mondo films about the sinful ways of the late 60s and early 70s, Martino's next few films feel pretty ironic. His two “vice” films are very much about free love, and being “modern” (Sex Without Love claims a poster we can see in the film, summing up quite well the many relationships it depicts) – and they can't really be read as moral tales, as you could with something like Halloween. It's a pretty fun film that just doesn't know when to quit: twist after twist after twist. 6.5/10
Your Vice Is a Locked Room and Only I Have the Key (Il tuo vizio è una stanza chiusa e solo io ne ho la chiave, Martino, 1972) – A variation on Poe's The Black Cat, mixed with a little Sade and a some elements from The Shining (which King will only write 5 years later), the film starts as a particularly intense and sleazy giallo, but drops its formula half way and ends up as a very original entry in the horror genre – and that despite being mostly composed of familiar disparate elements (for example, the visit of the niece and her relation to already established characters, as well as her charm and confident and displaced attitude strangely links her to other mesmerizing cinematic visitors from Teorema, The Lickerish Quartet, or Visitor Q). The enigmatic title is actually from The Strange Vice of Mrs. Wardh, making of this second vice film a strange follow-up to the first one, sharing some actors and plot points. This mixture of familiarity and originality makes of Your Vice... a unique and somewhat uncanny (and undeniably beautiful) film. If you're looking for an original take on the giallo, and don't mind the sleaze and the predictable ending from the Poe short story, this might be the masterpiece you're looking for. 7.5/10
The Case of the Scorpion's Tail (La coda dello scorpione, Martino, 1971) – Martino followed his first vice film with another very conventional giallo that's just a lot less convincing to me (I'm sure many fans of the genre must appreciate this one just as much though, and it's still a very important early giallo). It's probably the fact that every character here is unpleasant and unlikable, coupled with obvious borrowings from better films (Blow-Up, Psycho), but it just doesn't really work for me, even though the film has undeniable qualities and should work as an effective entry in the genre (it has pretty much every elements you could think of – and it nicely hijacks the argento-ian forgotten detail / focus on a detail). Things to learn from this film: solve the case and get the girl, and if a car speeds towards you to kill you, just drop to the ground (!). 3.5/10
All the Colors of the Dark (Tutti i colori del buio, Martino, 1972) – Probably the most ambitious of Martino's early gialli run, but also his weaker in execution. The film has great atmospheric moments, but also some really cheesy stuff. Whereas the cult scene in Short Night of Glass Dolls was short and restrained (and relevant), here Martino goes full cheese and kind of ruins the film's pace and tone (early dreamy/hallucinatory trips are not so convincing either). Also, Bruno Nicolai's score – a favorite of many giallo fans – is in my opinion one of his worst. Nicolai, once a close collaborator of Morricone, scored a huge number of gialli, always with debatable and uneven results, but here it stays pretty weak throughout (he even proposes a variation of the Rosemary's Baby lullaby, only underlying the film's major debt to Polanski's film). It has many interesting elements (sight, eyes, reflections), and I think it is more easily opened to different readings than most films of the genre (even though it's still limited by overexplanations), but it suffers from its weaker moments, and from a serious case of Fenech ovedoing it (but she's still amazing). I was very surprised to see that I had the film at 7/10 on IMDB. I graded all the others pretty close to my original scores, but here I can't go above 5/10.
Torso (I corpi presentano tracce di violenza carnale, Martino, 1973) – I guess someone thought that this time they went too far with the original title (which Google translates to The bodies show traces of rape, but should probably be sexual violence). It's not really clear what the torso is supposed to refer to, but there's quite a few of those, ifyaknowwhatImean. Overall a pretty conventional giallo, Martino still shows his ability to break tone (though not as much as in his second vice film) and includes a pretty long sequence where one of the girls hides in the house while the killer cleans his mess up, unaware of her presence – without a doubt the best moments of the film. The film opens with promises of reflexivity, but doesn't really deliver – it still makes for a few interesting bits in the first part and unfolds into a fixation on the eyes and sight from the murderer, but without much to work with. The film marks the end of a great series of gialli by Martino. He'll come back to the genre a few times, but never with as much panache. 4/10
For #16 & 17, I went with the two gialli of Antonio Bido, which I hadn't seen before but have been curious about for some time. Bido wrote a thesis on Italian horror cinema and seemed to have somewhat of a knowledgeable approach – and his films have a good following and reputation – but in the end, he's pretty much a poor-man's Argento.
Watch Me When I Kill (Il gatto dagli occhi di giada, Bido, 1977) – Am I in the wrong for expecting from a late giallo called Watch Me some forms of distanciation and self-awareness? Probably, especially since the original title (just as the film) has nothing to do with anybody watching – except for those unexplained fake cats eyes appearing in flashes in the murder scenes. At least, not explained to the spectator. Maybe it's weak storytelling, but the film uses a very strange form of narrative focalisation: the spectator always knows less than the characters. The result, in a whodunit, is weirdly frustrating, with deductions coming out of thin air. With every actor trying real hard to look intense and suspicious, that narrative strategy quickly becomes exhausting, and even though you probably guessed who the murderer was, it's no use (and no fun) to try and solve the case. No sleaze and no aesthetic excess, but otherwise a very conventional giallo, which is kind of disappointing since it came in pretty late. 3/10
The Bloodstained Shadow (Solamente nero, 1979, Bido) – Contrarily to what Bido pretends about his second film, that having more freedom allowed him to really do things his way, it really only confirms his debt to Dario Argento's cinema (the painting part of the intrigue might make you roll your eyes). The music, composed by Stelvio Cipriani, is actually rearranged and played by Goblin, and even though it has a few bright original moments, it sounds like crap for most of the film (the first half has an electronic pulse leitmotiv that's just terrible). The film has similar flaws to Bido's first one, but mostly his plot is too complex for what he is able to convey (it also has the same ineffective jump scares used in Watch Me When I Kill, with random stuff coming into the screen). On the other hand, it's a way more stylized giallo, relatively more effective and certainly more engaging (even if a little too long and somewhat boring at times). The last part would have been great if not for the necessity for overexplanations caused by the number of plot points Bido just can't fit in his narrative. 3.5/10
Strip Nude for Your Killer (Nude per l'assassino, Bianchi, 1975) – This film could have been a masterpiece of irony and film reflexivity. The moment where you see the camera and the crew in a reflection, elsewhere a pivotal moment in a film by Jodorowsky, or an interesting reflexive joke by Mel Brooks, should have confirm that the film was pointing to itself (something reinforced by the cameras, spots, makeup artists, photographers, and the women as models already present in the narrative – classic reflexive strategies that could have worked marvels here). Taking from there, the main character being a despicable misogynistic ladies man would have made a little sense, and his exaggeratedly disgusting attitude towards every female characters (even his new girlfriend) would have been relevant. Same thing for the impotent rapist who can only be a man to his inflatable sex doll, or the emasculation of that other woman beater. In that hypothetical film, sexual politics should have been front and center, and the de-gendering of the killer would have been food for thought. Sadly, Bianchi is just a terrible, terrible director, and Strip Nude for Your Killer is nothing of that. It's all in there, but any intelligent interpretation of that mess would entirely belong to the spectator/reader. At face value, without the extra efforts, this really is one of the dumbest gialli, even though it does have a few classic genre moments. I'm not even sure if it's a so-bad-it's-good 1/10 or if I should rate it for being a potential thesis candidate for gender studies.
Damned in Venice (Nero veneziano, Liberatore, 1978) – I've had (a pretty bad copy of) this one for years, but had never watched it. It's often listed as an occult giallo, or supernatural giallo, but it really shouldn't be considered as part of the genre. Clearly a lesser offspring of Don't Look Now, Rosemary's Baby and The Omen, the film still manages to do its own thing, with decent atmosphere, decent acting (compared to the real gialli anyway), and the few horror elements are original enough (and kind of ballsy too) – I even think it can handle a few different readings. Its use of Donaggio's music (same composer as Don't Look Now too) is more miss than hit, with a lot of silly excessive emphasis, but also with a few (rare, even) great moments. I'm pretty sure most would find the film boring (and some of it – the hallucinations mostly – poorly executed and cheesy), and maybe it's just because I needed a break from the gialli, but I thought it was quite good despite its limited means (and results). 4.5/10
Who Saw Her Die? (Chi l'ha vista morire?, Lado, 1972) – One of my favorite gialli – while the second half is a classic giallo with not much surprise, the first half of this one is amazing. The intro scene leads you to believe that we (spectators) saw her die, subjective camera (pointing to the sight of the killer), through a veil (reminding us of the camera as apparatus), but the question wasn't intended in regards to that first victim, and the real answer will end up far more complex. This is maintained with brio through the first half of the film, first with the opening credits being shown over photographs of the murder scene and the victim, and then through other reminders (“an artist doesn't create, he records”). All of it mixed with the insistence of looking and watching. The male gaze is the real threat here, from the father's friend lustfully checking out the young daughter, to the father watching a naked young girl on TV (on screen, obviously), to the group of men starring at the corpse of the young victim (not a single woman in the crowd) – the first half of this film manages to lay down a real creepy atmosphere. Second half has the murders and the whodunit intrigue, some very weak stuff (can these slaps be more fake?), but some other punctual moments of reflexive brilliance: a murder in a movie theater where people go watch sex and violence (the montage on screen doesn't even make sense), a son watching nudies of his mother and, first thing we see after the classic resolution of the mystery, a camera that points to us, the spectators. The film also has some amazing imagery (I love the shot saturated with pigeons) and pretty nice cinematography and scenery, and a very good score by Morricone (the main theme is overused, but great). The intrigue is thin and, in trying too hard to come as a surprise, the resolution is disappointing and moves away from what's really intriguing and interesting throughout. 7.5/10
The Red Queen Kills Seven Times (La dama rossa uccide sette volte, 1972, Miraglia) – Miraglia uses all of the classic tricks with this inheritance intrigue/whodunit, mixed in the fashion industry. The only original thing here is the plot's impressive level of stupidity. It's not a good giallo, not a good suspense, and certainly not a good whodunit: the killer flees with her car, and you know who it belongs to (you'd think it'd be a red herring, but no – well, they'll add another layer to make things dumber and convoluted). Miraglia even uses a few of the common giallo reflexive elements (models, photographers, images), but contrarily to Who Saw Her Die?, the subjectivity here is always female (in Lado's film, even when it is implied that the point of view belongs to a woman, it's not the case). There's no point to it, but I guess it's something. What else? Atrocious acting, and the whole ending is a mess, editing and continuity are so weak it feels like there's shots missing. 1.5/10
Paranoia (Orgasmo, Lenzi, 1969) – The film is considered an early giallo and it does have a lot of the same visual tropes and tricks – the mirrors and paintings, the photographs and camera, the zooms and shots going out of focus – but it doesn't fit the narrative mold standardized by the better known gialli that came in the following years (well, there is the inheritance intrigue, but it's often forgotten in the background). The film is a variation on the gaslighting plot, with an erotic twist (the gaslighting is improbable at best, and I couldn't help but think of The Walking Dead's Easy Street). It's sometimes gorgeous, but the 69 feel with the folly of youth and the unbearable music and dance scenes somewhat ruin the result. It's still by far the most interesting film of this trilogy, and the one I'd consider the closest to the giallo aesthetics. 4/10
So Sweet... So Perverse (Così dolce... così perversa, Lenzi, 1969) – Another pre-crystal plumage giallo, so no surprise that it's not yet rigidly formulaic, but contrarily to Paranoia, it also doesn't have much of anything to do with the genre (maybe apart from that quasi-experimental one minute long kiss scene or a flashback that ends up being a lie). The intrigue is made of lies and deception and you will feel like you've seen it all before (think of a lesser Les diaboliques). Nothing comes unexpected, but the narrative somehow remains original enough in its clumsiness, with quite a few ideas, but always lacking in execution (offing the main character, sudden flashbacks, etc.). The film is highly uneven, going from matrimonial conflicts played with some restraint to the very awkward eroticization of a black woman who starts a striptease by addressing the spectator, looking directly at the camera. You'd expect a film with that great a title and starring Jean-Louis Trintignant to be somewhat of a masterpiece, and because of that it ends up pretty disappointing (and Trintignant is mailing it in – he's still not as bad as Carroll Baker). Oh, and atrocious dubbing too, even for the genre. 3/10
A Quiet Place to Kill (Paranoia, Lenzi, 1970) – Like in the preceding one, lies and deception are at the core of this third entry in Lenzi's giallo trilogy, but without Trintignant, and without the weird changes in tone, the film only feels bland. In fact, the few things I found intriguing had nothing to do with the twists and tricks of the story. First, the film's title is the same as the first film's international title. It seems like such a stupid idea that I started the film thinking there must have been a way to read it in relation to the first two (there's no narrative continuity in the trilogy, only thematic kinship: the threesomes, the double-crossing, the erotico-lounge imagery). The opening credits, composed of later images from the film presented in inverted colors, representing the film as a negative, only convinced me more that something was to be deciphered (on top of the negative effects, we have a film camera pointed at the spectator, and a woman's reflection in the mirror staying still when she moves – everything's pointing at the film as images, and the title is pointing at another film it mirrors, if you know me just a little, you know how pleased I was at that point). Sadly, the film itself offers very little to chew on. The intriguing opening images are revealed to make sense in the diegesis, and you just drop any other lead you might have had. The story is a cheapened cousin to So Sweet... So Perverse, which wasn't much to begin with (the clay pigeons Trintignant shot at are replaced here with real pigeons – Lenzi was already preparing for his cannibal films). 2.5/10
The Fifth Cord (Giornata nera per l'ariete, Bazzoni, 1971) – This might just be the most giallo of all gialli. It's a formulaic example of what the classic giallo film would be remembered as. Most of all, it's an amazingly beautiful film, with great sensibility in direction, pace and tension. It has all the elements you'd expect from a giallo (including Morricone), but it manages to use them all in refined and controlled measures (even Morricone, who's himself put aside in moments of silent tension) – with only the final confrontation dragging a little, but not without some more aesthetic high notes. It lacks the ideas of the better Argento films and the narrative might be a little too simple (still an ok whodunit), but it's just a splendid film. Bazzoni has only made a few films, but he shows here that he was at a level of mastery that only very few filmmakers of the genre could pretend to. 7/10
Deep Red (Profondo rosso, Argento, 1975) – If there's a perfect genre film, this might be it. Not only is it astonishingly beautiful, but it's also a brilliant masterclass in filmmaking. It's my favorite giallo, and my favorite whodunit too. Now, if you haven't seen it, I suggest you don't read this comment and just go find it (the version on Shudder is ok, but lacks a few interesting elements). I used to present the first murder in class to demonstrate how framing and editing could direct the spectator's attention (something that horror films often overuse in the construction of the jump scares). In Deep Red, once you know, you know, but if you don't you normally get played (and in such ballsy fashion, with not only the face of the killer in frame, but a very blatant and beautiful call out just beforehand, through the allusion to Helnwein's Nighthawks, that we should pay attention to the paintings that are not really paintings). The investigation might rely on too many coincidences, but it remains engaging throughout – and even if you do (hopefully) get played, you can still solve it. Its most obvious solution lies in a mirror, but you can solve it through a drawing (which also gets in-frame when a piece of wall falls off) and the film ends on the reflection of its main character in a pool of blood – simple use of reflexive devices that appear through the whole film, strengthening its very gialloesque themes of sight, witnessing and remembering. To the numerous elements going that way (from the medium having visions to the many eye close-ups), Argento adds a self-reflexive layer that goes from the simplest acknowledgment of the film's fabrication (the theater's closing curtains, the many paintings), to clearer hints of its own apparatus (recordings and frames – the identity of the killer is revealed a few times, just out of frame), to a comment on his own cinema (the pianist complaining that his music is too clean and precise and should be trashier – missing from the Shudder version). The character repeating that the solution should be in the missing painting, an allusion to The Bird With the Crystal Plumage, puts emphasis on the need for pictorial analysis – the casting of David Hemmings only adds another intertextual echo pointing to it (contrarily to the character of The Bird, he won't find the painting he is looking for - and the invitation really is directed to the spectator as investigator, for him to analyze what he has seen - but there is that kid drawing he should have paid more attention to).
The original trailer is also in itself a tour de force, certainly an important influence on the giallo pastiches of Cattet and Forzani. The film does have a few weaknesses, some rapid inserts that jar with the rhythm (something a lot of gialli suffer from), a very poor performance by Macha Méril (luckily she's the first one offed), and, to me – I know it's blasphemy – its music. Everything intradiegetic (the nursery rhyme, the piano) is perfect, but the Goblin score, as much as it makes the film quite unique and participates in the overall saturation of the senses it aims for, often goes against the otherwise very efficient dreadful atmosphere and pace. 9/10
The Bird With the Crystal Plumage (L'uccello dalle piume di cristallo, Argento, 1970) – Much more conventional in its narrative choices and direction, Argento's first film is still another gem and could just as easily be considered as the high mark of the genre. It has the same basic structure as Deep Red: the main character, witness to an act of violence, tries to remember exactly what he has seen in order to solve the case. The main difference here is that the spectator is merely spectator and not invited to take part in the game (we haven't seen the forgotten detail). A much simpler work, but still a great giallo and a great film (as some of you need validation from kihei, I'll just quote his recent comment on the film: “Director Dario Argento is an absolute master of suspense in the conspicuously stylish The Bird with the Crystal Plumage.”) 8.5/10
Footprints on the Moon (Le orme, Bazzoni, 1975) – Oh that good feeling when you catch an unexpected little gem that went straight under your nose. While re-watching The Fifth Cord, one of the best gialli I'd seen, I realized I had never seen anything else by Bazzoni. This one was listed as another giallo, so I thought I'd make it part of my rundown of the genre. Though it's undoubtedly aesthetically close (it's a very nice film), this is not a giallo. It has Florinda Bolkan from the Fulci gialli, Nicoletta Elmi, the little girl from Who Saw Her Die? and Deep Red (and appearing in other gialli like there was no other young girl in Italy at the time), and it's directed by Bazzoni and cinematographed by Storaro who filmed not only The Fifth Cord, but also The Bird With the Crystal Plumage, but it is not, positively not, a giallo. What it is, I couldn't say, probably more of an art film than anything else – even reminded me at times of Last Year at Marienbad and certainly has a few thematic affinities with early Robbe-Grillet (others have linked it to some of Polanski's best films). A woman wakes up one morning not realizing she blanked the last three days from her memory, with dreams of an astronaut left behind on the moon (or was it an old movie she'd seen?), tales of doubles, childhood reminiscence and imaginary countries, the narrative lands somewhere between complexity and confusion. The black and white dreams / sci-fi movie scenes are weaker in execution (Kinski is by far the weakest link in an otherwise pretty good cast), and the conclusion tying them in suffers a little from it, but it's a very interesting and unique film. 8/10
One on Top of the Other aka Perversion Story (Una sull'altra, Fulci, 1969) – Apart from being the first giallo by Lucio Fulci, this one is of no great interest. It's not a complete waste, it's often visually creative (split screens, split focus, sex filmed through the bed, etc.), and it does have a lot of elements common to the giallo, but it's also a very poor attempt at doing something clever à-la Vertigo. The first half is sleazy enough to hold on, but the whole resolution of the intrigue is way too chatty and boring, and the conclusion of the story told through a News bulletin feels like they just didn't care to shoot it anymore. The jazzy score is pretty good on itself, but plastered all over, it pretty much never fits the tone. 2.5/10
A Lizard in a Woman's Skin (Una lucertola con la pelle di donna, Fulci, 1971) – This one is hard to rate. It's a very uneven film, that goes from very cheesy sleaze (you know I don't mind sleaze, but no cheese with my sleaze, please) to some great, quasi-surreal horrorific bits. In fact, it's a pretty poor giallo (honestly, nobody cares about most of what's going on), with a few very good horror instincts (the chase scene, with the organ and the bats, is prescient of things Fulci would do years later). I watched a DVD copy a friend gave me years ago that I never popped in and I was really disappointed to find out that the dogs scene was cut from it (!) - really, there's no point of watching this film without it, so make sure you don't have the version cut down to 95 minutes if you ever venture in that direction. The dogs are a very surprising gory touch in an early giallo, one that got Fulci a trial for animal cruelty (the makeup artist had to present his work in court to save Fulci from a prison sentence). The hand-held camera (sometimes really amateurish) and subjective POV only work in the horror-oriented moments, and though there's some really nice shot composition, this one mostly looks like crap. It doesn't help that Morricone's score is one of his weakest, nor that Jean Sorel is, well, in the movie (what a terrible actor – the scenario doesn't do anything for him either, the non-reaction to his daughter's death is hilarious). 4/10
Don't Torture a Duckling (Non si sevizia un paperino, Fulci, 1972) – This is the most respected of Fulci's gialli. It's not a very good film, but it's grim and dark enough to be somewhat interesting. It's a lot more coherent as a whole than the two previous ones too. Sleaze is at a minimum compared to his first two gialli, and the film moves away from the hippie free love crowd and theme. There's one very peculiar shot at the middle of the film where Florinda Bolkan leaves suspiciously the church, it's a high-angle shot, with a little pan and a little zoom following her – nothing out of the ordinary, except that it's presented a second time right away, as the policemen watch it on screen as if it was what? An automated surveillance film camera in a tiny Italian town in early 70s? A filmmaker that happened to be there at the right moment and had the gut feeling he should offer the reels to the police? Or a police film crew spying on something they didn't know would be of interest? It makes no sense, it is not addressed, but it creates an amazing distanciatory shock (nothing Fulci would use afterwards though). There's also a very nice and quasi-discreet use of parallel editing to create a false reading by the spectator (think of the police getting in to save Clarice Sterling from the hands of the killer... not at the right house), but that's the only subtle red herring, everything else is borderline ridiculous. Just not as ridiculous as the dummy falling down the cliff, that thing is almost enough to warrant the film a sobig so-bad-it's-good rating – amazing stuff! 3.5/10
The New York Ripper (Lo squartatore di New York, Fulci, 1982) – With its fascination for close-ups of sliced up flesh (and nipples), this later giallo by Fulci sometimes slips into the (lack of) sensibility/subtlety of a slasher film, with good measures of soft porn elements too. Add to this a pretty bad score that feels like it's straight out of a cheap early 80s TV series and the result just feels like it doesn't even try to be taken seriously. The fact that the 3 fingers guy clearly has all 5 is really bothering too. The intro scene is predictable, but fun. The rest is just predictable (there's no real lead to follow to unmask the killer, but you'll know very quickly who it is). The psycho-bullshit is not new to the genre, but normally it serves to dress up some thematic elements, here it's not much more than bullshit. For some reason (probably the soft core sadism), I had it at 5/10 on IMDB, but I have to drop it at 3.5/10.
The Iguana With the Tongue of Fire (L'iguana dalla lingua di fuoco, Freda, 1971) – The copy I have of this film is very bad so I will not address the many ways I thought it looked like shit, but I'm afraid it won't help much because everything else is shitty too. I seriously thought Jesus Franco was the only director dumb enough to fake a slow-motion shot by asking his actors to move exaggeratedly slowly, I was wrong (at least they don't hit a lamp that moves at normal speed in this one). And it's not because they didn't have the means to do it, since they managed to put some fight shots on fast forward, making them utterly absurd. The whole finale, with botched editing, transvestite violence, and a father ffw fighting for his suddenly naked young daughter is both cringey and hilarious. You can laugh your way through this one with lots of comedy gold: the overacting is just amazing (the fake Irish accents and Frenglish dialogues on the English dub just make it worse) and the musical accentuation highlighting of every stupid “clue” (the killer wears sunglasses at night – or so I guessed because those shots were way too dark to tell – but every other character owns the exact same model... TA-DAM!). Based on a novel that doesn't exist, this is the film you wish was in the MST3K catalog. SoBIG. 1/10
Amuck (Alla ricerca del piacere, Amadio, 1972) – My copy of this one is a crappy transfer of a VHS tape, with an Erotik70s tag in the bottom of the screen, but it didn't look as bad as that Iguana thing (even has some pretty nice shots in the hunting scene). This giallo is more on the traditional mystery side of things, with a little gaslighting, some kitsch sleaze with gorgeous ladies (including quasi-experimental slow-motion softcore lesbian sex, for some reason), and stays away from the serial killer whodunit schema. In fact, it takes a pretty funny reflexive jab at some other films of the genre: one character being a respected writer proposes to lower himself and write a whodunit. That's just one of quite a few clever ideas (I just love manipulative flashbacks that end up being lies told through the same medium as the real-world of the story), but these are spread out in an otherwise pretty boring film. Some pretty tough to watch animal cruelty and a lot of not-so-consensual assaults on women make of this one a cult favorite, but it just ain't that good. 3.5/10
Death Carries A Cane (Passi di danza su una lama di rasoio, Pradeaux, 1973) - Terrible acting, terrible writing, characters and dialogues. And not a pretty film either, with poor directing and editing. The result is pure garbage (the overexposed 4 seconds lesbian flashback after the long blank stare at the camera might just be the film's highlight). I think they might have aimed at touches of comedy, not sure if it was voluntary or not, or maybe just a little fun they had at dubbing. It even fails at as a whodunit, if you know the tropes of the genre, you will have no problem identifying the murderer quickly, not that you will really care. The sleaze is of no help, just an inch away of being hilarious. 1.5/10
French Sex Murders (Casa d'appuntamento, Merighi, 1972) – Most confusing, very poor giallo. A superimposed silhouette jumps from what looks like a stock shot of the Eiffel Tower* – but no, they are filming on location, and intend to make the most of it (photo direction is crap, but nevermind). Good, the inspector's voice-over, while he looks at the distance, might explain what's going on: “It all began on the last night of the carnival.”. That's it. Cut to a thief robbing jewelry, and no more of that - and we will never hear again of this carnival (it's not clear at first, but the whole film is a long flashback/explanation by the cliché inspector, until in the end we get back to the Eiffel Tower suicide). It doesn't help that the copy I have switched from the English to the French dub without warning (the English one clearly not being made by anglophones is hilarious), but nothing of that prepares for the level of absurdity we soon reach when a man throws a fit of jealousy to a girl in a brothel (his favorite prostitute the synopsis says), swinging and slapping air and doing everything he can to keep his penis hidden from view (not much success there either). And that's just the first few minutes. A terribly out of key (borderline scary) French song, experimental toying with color calibration, and incomprehensible stretches of overacting, are just some of the comedy elements you'll enjoy here, in addition to a very goofy timeline (some of it just being really poor photography, like day turning to night from shot to shot, and maybe some of it just being from a careless translation... For example: “when you refused to help him, last night” - you mean last night, before his trial that ended with a death sentence to the guillotine, his escape from prison and death while running away from the cops? Oh yeah, last night). Hilarious stuff throughout, but you might lose interest after the high-roller start to the madness. SoBIG. 1/10
Delirio Caldo (Delirium, Polselli, 1972) – Pronto! Pronto!!!! This one really owns its title (Hot Delirium). Absurdity has been brilliantly exploited by quite a few directors, but in calculated ways that weren't, in themselves, absurd. Now this film poses a different challenge. The story is pretty simple, and somewhat close to the common giallo: an impotent (of course) man with a fetish for strangulation eliminates a series of (mostly naked) women. The killer (played by former Mr. Universe Mickey Hargitay in a serious role where he never once shows off his muscles - he ends up shirtless in one scene, but he's framed from the shoulders up) is revealed right away, so the “mystery”revolves around the identity of a second killer, who strikes strategically whenever the guilty psychologist might be suspected (the killer works with the police to try and identify himself, a job he seems to be taking seriously – he even sets up a trap to catch himself, and falls for it (!), but he's saved by that damn second killer). The killer also has the most comprehensive wife ever, who's well aware of his acts, and offers her neck to his murdering hands, understanding his fetish (at some point he tortures her with some roller – if anybody ever sees this film, please explain). The wife has the most absurd erotico-surreal dreams of torture and lesbianism, and they make it pretty obvious all along that she's the second killer, but is she? Enters the niece/lover, and an amazing gaslighting scene where the two women hear voices in the house and roll on the floor screaming in terror only to realize it's coming from a tape recorder two feet away from them (we'll never know who was responsible or why that tape was played either). The killer has squeaky shoes, one suspects swears and insults everybody in a terrible English (and comedy bits has him trying to kill a fly while calling the police), even the maid's cleavage is funny, and the soundtrack is mostly made of howling/moaning and bells. This is a gem, and the actors really give it their all. People from Québec might remember Le coeur a ses raisons, a TV pastiche show that mostly worked on ludicrous overacting – at times this ain't far from the same, done seriously. I don't think you should ever watch this, it's a terrible, terrible film, but I had a lot of fun with it and certainly will go back to it. My rating scale puts this type of films all together as SO Bad It's Good films, just know this one is particularly good. 1/10
Le Foto di Gioia (Delirium, Bava, 1987) – There's no relation between the two movies, except that they're both poor gialli with a penchant for erotica. Delirium (1972) ends on a montage of nude photos of some of its characters, unrelated to the movie (of course). Delirium (1987) opens the same way, but here the photos are the introduction to our main characters, photographers and models (and a rear window neighbor wheelchair voyeur), making the film feel like soft core porn from the get-go. And then the crippled voyeur calls. Now I don't know if it's the translation (I have a dubbed version and at no point after that in the film does this type of crude dialogues appear), but this goes south fast. If you want a trashy film that's really comfortable being trash, I guess that's a pretty solid option. The subjective camera from the killer's pov tries to go weird (blue to red saturation, surreal hallucinations of the victims' faces as giant eyeballs or insects), but it's too late and you can only receive the film as kitsch and coarse. Themes are up my alley (with lots of reflexivity, most of it from the use of images, film sets, photo equipment, and a few more playful elements, like Serena Grandi telling George Eastman “You'll be a villain 'til the day you die” – he played the villain in her very first film, Joe D'Amato's infamous Anthropophagus), but nothing's used interestingly. There should be a register of all impotent giallo killers – it kind of kills the intrigue (not that it matters much, the film banks on heavy breasted ladies more than on narrative achievement). It's a SoBIG movie too, if you're in the mood for trash – just not as good or funny or interesting as the previous one. Lamberto Bava has been the assistant of some of the best Italian horror directors (including his father, but also Dario Argento and Ruggero Deodato for Cannibal Holocaust), but he only really did one interesting film himself, Demons (and its sequel, which is not too far from being a remake). 1/10
