When I was a kid, before I committed myself to the written word, I had aspirations to be an actor. I wanted to tread the boards, and nothing was going to stop me. I even ended up in a few productions, but as I got older, I found out that I wasn’t really keen on being in front of a large group of people. It seems that I had stage fright, and as luck would have it when I looked to see what I might want to review this week, I once again had StageFright. No I don’t mean I was afraid of coming out here and talking to you fine folks. I mean that I had a neglected copy of Michele Soavi’s 1987 film Deliria a.k.a Stage Fright that was begging to be reviewed. Soavi’s one of those directors who often slip my mind, but with films like DellamorteDellamore (CemeteryMan) and Lachiesa (TheChurch), he should be hard to forget. By the time the curtains finally close on tonight’s tale, I hope that Mr. Soavi and his film will be stuck in my mind.
It all starts when a modern dance company is practicing for a big show that opens in a few days. The hard-ass director Paul (David Brandon) had forbid anyone from leaving the theater during practice for any reason, but when the star of the show, Alicia (Barbara Cupisti), twists her ankle her friend Betty sneaks her out to take her to a hospital. Unfortunately, the nearest place is a mental hospital, but they find a nice doctor who takes pity on Alicia and treats her. They also get a glimpse at deranged actor Irving Wallace (Clain Parker) who is being kept there after killing fifteen people. Wallace escapes just in time to stow away in the girl’s car, and soon he’s in the theater, donning a giant owl mask, and dispatching the cast and crew one by one.
One of the best things about this film is how Michele Soavi draws you into the world of the film. As the picture opens, a strange, birdlike looking hooker is assaulted and pulled back into an alleyway, but then as people pop out of windows and a Marilyn Monroe impersonator begins to blow a mean sax on a rooftop, the camera pulls out to reveal it is all part of a stage production. This simple little trick got me involved in the film very quickly, and it leads perfectly into establishing the setting, the tone, and then into the characters. It also establishes the tone for the film. StageFright is not exactly a straightforward slasher film. Soavi’s film Dellamorte Dellamore took the zombie film and turned it on its ear, and while StageFright doesn’t change the formula as radically, it does have a stripe of dark humor that runs throughout the film.
I can’t give Mr. Soavi all the credit for crafting a movie outside the norms of ‘80’s slasher films. The script was written by none other than Lair favorite George Eastman (with some help from Shelia Goldberg on dialog). Eastman is best known as the star of Joe D’Amato’s films Anthropophagus and the pseudo-sequel Absurd, but few realize that Eastman wrote those two films along with Castellari’s Keoma (1976), D’Amato’s PornoHolocaust (1981), and Stage Fright. The script is very well paced, and I commend it for giving the film the extremely darkly comic moments. There is one thing about this film I want to clear up. I’ve seen this listed many times as a giallo, but it is clearly not. The killer’s identity is clearly known, and there are no red herrings inserted to even make you think otherwise. Giallo came to the States and became the slasher film, but by 1987, the slasher had headed back over the ocean to influence Eastman and Soavi’s StageFright.
For as clever as the script and film making felt, the cast falls a bit short. Barbara Cupisti’s Alicia is very obviously intended to be the final girl from the time she is introduced, but I never could latch onto the character enough to care about her. This was an even bigger problem for the scads of nearly nameless dancers that become the killer’s victim after acting like a flock of bitches. The film tries to make Alicia sympathetic, but she comes off like a flaky mess and no better than her peers. The same can be said about David Brandon as the director Paul. He becomes one of the heroic characters in the film, but after forty plus minutes of him acting like a massive asshole, I was so ready for the Owl headed killer to catch up with him.
Speaking of which, I need to get around to the killer. Actor Clain Parker has a strange name, but he had very little to do as Irving Wallace as he only has a total of 2-3 minutes of screen time not wearing the Owl mask. Yet once he’s in it, it makes for a very unique killer that was really fun to see. The high point has to be when Paul thinks that Wallace is the dancer that is supposed to be wearing the Owl head. He invites the killer onto the stage and then proceeds to taunt him into killing. This is the perfect example of the dark comic tone of the film. Paul is nearly frothing at the mouth wanting his imaginary bloodlust quenched, but when Wallace stabs the girl to death in front of them, the romanticism of the murders in their bloody, erotic, modern dance routine is shattered.
Of course you can’t have dancing without music, and Simon Boswell’s score for the film is a classic. Filled with ‘80’s synths that really have that driving MiamiVice feel to them, I found myself often just listening to the score when scenes of dancers sniping at each other would come around. The score is also really well used when the killer takes command of the sound board and starts playing creepy killer music. I mean there’s a guy who really has pride in his work. Not only does he want to kill them, he wants to make sure that he’s got theme music to work with as well.
I could keep on about Stage Fright and pick apart the things I like and those I don’t, but in the end, things are pretty evenly matched. (For each scene that features Giovanni Lombardo Radice as an over the top gay costumer, there’s a montage that featuring a girl shaving her armpits.) Stage Fright will stick in my mind though because of the Owl headed killer if not for anything else, but it doesn’t really stack up compared to Soavi’s other films. If you’re interested in seeing how the American slasher influenced an Italian director, then I would encourage you to check this out. However, if you’ve never seen anything from Michele Soavi before, then start with Dellamorte Dellamore.
I’m back, and I’m rested, ready, and relaxed after the Christmas break. I hope everyone had a great holiday, and that you all got everything you wanted from Mr. Claus. I got plenty of great gifts, and of course, the people who know me well know there’s nothing I love more than movies. So I opened plenty of packages to find cinematic delights within. One of those films came from my lovely wife who hunted far and wide to find something interesting that I would like and did not have. What she came back with was an interesting film indeed, Tinto Brass’ 1967 film Col cuore ingola a.k.a DeadlySweet. Billed as a “A Sexy Giallo Thriller”, the film delivers on most counts, and it throws in art house overtones, pop art references, and a few comic moments for good measure.
Bernard (Jean-Louis Trintgnant) is a French actor visiting London who meets the beautiful Jane (Ewa Aulin) while he’s out at the disco. Jane’s father was recently killed in a hit and run accident, and when Bernard follows her out of the club, he finds another dead man at her feet. Jane claims she didn’t do it, and he’s so smitten he whisks her away before the cops arrive. At his apartment, she tells him that the man had been blackmailing her father with pictures of her stepmother. Bernard promises to help her find out who killed the blackmailer and clear her name. He begins his investigation, and soon everyone from a thug named Jelly Roll to a midget is out to get him before he can solve the case.
Tinto Brass is probably best known for his erotic film work including films such as 1976’s SalonKitty, 2000’s Cheeky (which is about what you‘d think it might be about), and infamously 1979’s Caligula which he performed principal photography on before being fired and replaced by Bob Guccione. Brass started his career with more of a directionless motion trying his hand at spaghetti western (Yankee, 1966), science fiction sex comedy (Il disco volante, 1964) and even straight drama (Chi lavora e perduto, 1963). With 1967’s Col cuore in gola, Brass planted the seeds of what would become his style of filmmaking, sexy and artistic with a snappy script. Even so, it is clearly the film of a less experienced filmmaker.
While in his later films Mr. Brass always exhibited a desire for artistically driven film within the context of the Exploitation genre, he really threw everything including the kitchen sink at Col cuore in gola. The film transitions from black and white to color at a whim, has flashes of Lichtenstein’s pop art paintings, and features quite a few moments that seem reminiscent of Michelangelo Antonioni’s 1966 film Blow Up. He also doesn’t hold back from using duel or even triple split screens. Some of these things work. The split screen scenes are particularly effective, but with so many random things inserted, it really muddies up the narrative. If I had not been taking notes while watching, the main story arc could be easily lost in the confusing mess of artistic flourishes. Another thing that held the film back was the music by Armando Troajoli. While I liked it generally, the whole film is tracked by two or three pieces of music, and it got very repetitive. The main theme was especially memorable, but after you hear it 10-12 times, it loses something.
The only actor I was very familiar with in Col cuore in gola was Jean-Louis Trintgnant, best known for the title role in the Corbucci western The Great Silence. It was strange to see him suited up and debonair, but he does a fine job as the French actor Bernard who is caught up in a mystery. He acquitted himself well with the action sequences, but he really shined in the film’s comic moments. I do wish a little more depth had been added to his character so there was some motivation for him to get involved in Jane’s life. Speaking of Jane, she was played by the lovely Ewa Aulin who also starred in the 1968 film Candy. She gives Jane the proper damsel in distress vibe, and even though we don’t get much of Bernard’s motivations, its easy to see how he could be swayed by the large eyes, innocent looking Jane. There is more to her character than it seems at first glance, but it wouldn’t be much of a mystery otherwise.
At about one hour and twenty-two minutes into the film, Bernard bemoans that he is “getting tired of this mystery”, and unfortunately, many viewers will feel the same. With little to no connection built between the audience and the two lead characters. It is difficult to keep invested in their plight. It is also problematic that every time Brass builds any suspense it is broken up by one of his artsy distractions. I really wanted to like Col cuore in gola more than I did. The style that it exhibits is very interesting at first, and the erotic aspects of the film are not as front and center as Brass’ later work. It just never really comes together. It’s also something of a stretch to label this film a giallo. Certainly, there is a mystery, but fans of the genre will be disappointed by the pair of murders in the film both of which occur off-screen.
Fans of Tinto Brass will surely be interested to see this one and check out the filmmaker in his younger years, but many other viewers will find themselves confused or bewildered by the meandering cinematic themes. The thing I will remember most from the film is a quote from Bernard’s character, “Water on a woman’s body is like dew on a rose.” Lao Tse.” I couldn’t find out if that was a real saying from Lao Tse, but it doesn’t really matter. It was smooth as hell, and definitely one I have to file away for use down the line. Col cuore in gola is ultimately a film for the more hardcore of Italian film fans or for anyone who has seen all the better-known gialli. So check it out, but if you want to follow what’s going on, you may want to take a few notes.