Showing posts with label giallo. Show all posts
Showing posts with label giallo. Show all posts

Don't Go in the Lightning Bug's Lair #2: Don't Torture a Duckling (1972)

While yesterdays duo of “Don’t”s had the most ubiquitous message when they assured, somewhat misleadingly, Don’t Be Afraid of the Dark.  Today’s film, coming in at Number 2 on the countdown, comes from Italian horror master Lucio Fulci, and, in the inverse, it has an impenetrable title which only viewing the film will explain. Popularly known as Don’t Torture a Duckling, the original Italian title, Non si sevizia un paperino, actually translates more literally as Don’t Torture Donald Duck, but even in an age where Escape from Tomorrow is a film that gets released, it is hard to imagine the litigious House of Mouse letting that kind of title fly. Coming off three solid thrillers, Lizard in a Woman’s Skin, One on Top of Another, and Beatrice Cenci, Don’t Torture a Duckling was the first of his films to really delve deep into a horror, albeit a human one. It also marks Fulci’s first real foray into gore while he was still at the top of his giallo game. Lucio reportedly named it as his favorite among his catalog, and I have to admit in advance that it ranks pretty high up there for me. I was actually surprised I had yet to review it as I've watched it a good half dozen times. So, I suppose do what you want to a calf, a kitten, a puppy, a chick, or a fawn, but whatever you do Don’t Torture a Duckling.

Berberian Sound Studio (2012) Mi senti adesso? Mi senti adesso?

Modern cinema is the marriage of sound and vision. So is David Bowie if you ask him, but that's an entirely different story. However, it is not merely the advent of the spoken word that made film into such a transformative experience. It was also the click of a woman's heels, the whip of the wind through the trees, the score rising as an awful sound denotes the ripping of flesh. These atmospheric elements are happening all the time as we take in a movie, and often we don't even realize that these tiny moments are pushing our viewing experience, making it come alive. Today's selection, Berberian Sound Studio exists in the behind the scenes magic that makes these kind of cinematic moments possible. It also engenders something of the dangers when they become all too real and the experience too visceral. It almost comes as no surprise that the particular genre of film being made at the titular studio is an Italian giallo.

Dragonfly For Each Corpse (1974): Paul Naschy Buttons Up His Giallo

When I heard the Duke of DVD and the Vicar of VHS were holding a Paul Naschy Blogathon, I jumped at the chance. It was not merely because Mad Mad Mad Mad Movies is one of my favorite sites, but also fortuitous since I had come into possession of a long awaited  Naschy film, A Dragonfly for Each Corpse [Sp: Una libĂ©lula para cada muerto], thanks to my good friends at Cinema de Bizarre. This Spanish entry into the Italian Giallo genre intrigued me instantly when I saw the title, but once I found it starred everyone’s favorite Waldemar, Mr. Naschy, and Kill, Baby, Kill babe Ericka Blanc, I knew I had to check it out. However, I did wonder if I would just be waiting for the moon to change and for Paul to be in desperate need of a Schick.

Naschy stars as Inspector Paolo Sarsaparilla a hard as nails cop who only shows his tender side when at home with his fashion designer girlfriend Silvana played by Erica Blanc. Paolo is called in to head up the investigation into a string of killings known as the “Dragonfly” murders targeting prostitutes, homosexuals, drug users, and other “deviant” groups. The killings got their catchy name from the only clue, a figurine of the insect left at each murder, but when Paolo discovers a second clue, a “high fashion” button, it draws Silvana into the investigation. When one of her friends becomes a target, she takes a much more active interest. Namely, staying up late into the night, nude and examining pictures with a magnifying glass. On the streets, Paolo continues to find bodies (and finds time to his ass kicked by a Nazi gang.) all of which leads him to believe that the killer is someone he knows.

This is what I would call one of “those” gialli. There’s plenty of sleaze, with numerous Spanish actresses (and Erica Blanc) shedding their clothes. There’s murders a plenty. The body count is high with the killer racking up thirteen kills before it’s all said and done, and the gloved fiend seems fond of everything from axes to sword tipped umbrellas. There’s so many red herrings that you could make an incredible Swedish stew. There’s also no reason to worry about why one of the suspects makes his escape on a roller coaster. Most importantly, Dragonfly for Each Corpse is one of those gialli which upon close examination and rapt attention to the plot makes not a damn bit of sense. This drives some people to distraction, but I was generally so distracted by the film’s oddball set pieces to care who the killer was going to end up being.

Naschy, barrel chested and cigar clenched in his teeth, instantly obliterated all memories of his Werewolf films, and despite the spurious dubbing, I really enjoyed his performance. His loose cannon cop at first (until the murders get personal) seems to condone the killers choice of victim delivering lines like “He’s cleaning up the city.” like it was a good thing. The other delight of the film is Erica Blanc. Her character acts as a more undressed version of Nora to Naschy’s far from suave Nick, and her storyline really keeps the second half of the film from being something more than just a stack of bodies. The rest of the cast, comprised of a generally solid group of Spanish actors, keep the film interesting with a variety of imaginative if not always perfect performances.

Prolific Argentinean (by way of Spain) director Leon Klimovsky, who worked with Naschy on eight occasions, paired with cinematographer Miguel Fernandez Mila, Martino’s lensman for All The Colors of the Dark. I could never accuse Dragonfly as having the same stylish notes as one of Sergio’s giallo, but this Naschy giallo manages to be sleazy, but well shot sleazy. (Though the print, ripped from an early ‘80’s VHS, could use some serious love,) Dragonfly for Each Corpse wins a prize for one of the more evocative names in the giallo genre, but it doesn’t quite reach the heights of the Italian films it seeks to imitate. That being said, I found it to be entertaining, a tad comical, and chock full of enough good flourishes to encourage others to check it out. While Paul Naschy will always be known as the king of Spanish horror, Dragonfly proves that he is an actor full of surprises, and if you don’t believe me head on over to MMMMMovies and check out all the entries to Blogathon. There’s been some amazing stuff, and even more to come!

Bugg Rating 

How Low Can You Giallo?- Black Belly of the Tarantula (1971)


 The year was 1971 and everyone was following in Argento’s footsteps with their animal entitled gialli. Paula Cavara was one of the directors of Mondo Cane and several other similar features released in its wake. After making a couple of war themed films, the stars aligned for the director, and with a story by Marcello Danon, who would later pen the script for La cage aux folles, a bevy of beautiful ladies, and a score by Ennio Morricone, Cavara was on target as he jumped genres again and delivered a stunning giallo.




When a film opens up to Barbara Bouchet nude on a table getting a massage from a blind masseur, then you know you’re in business. Bouchet is Maria Zani, a woman of loose moral standards who’s being blackmailed, but we hardly get to know her before a killer sticks a needle in her neck, paralyzes her, and cuts her open. Inspector Tellini (Gincarlo Giannini) is called in, and his prime suspect quickly becomes the victim’s jealous ex-husband. That line of inquiry is quickly closed as the husband is dispatched in the same fashion, and Tellini’s other leads follow much the same path. The unsure Inspector finds himself grasping at straws as the killer strikes at will, and the murderous path he’s carving might even find its way into Tellini’s home.


While the women of the film were quite ravishing, and the cinematography and score sublime, what really caught my attention was Gincarlo Giannini’s starring role as Inspector Tellini. We are lead to believe that he is a newly appointed inspector, and he’s very unsure of his suitability for the job. Sure, it’s a redemptive story arc that’s come up in films time and time again, but as the hero of a gialli, it seemed a fresh take for the typically baffled male lead. Tellini’s character is also enhanced greatly with scenes of his home life, and Stefania Sandrelli gives a solid performance as the inspector’s worried wife. Giannini was a veteran of several films before Black Belly, and he has worked steadily ever since. As if this film didn’t have enough Bond-ian connections, Giannini appeared as Mathis in 2006’s Casino Royale.


Speaking of Casino Royale, that gives me a good angle to get back to the beautiful ladies of the film. The briefly seen and quickly murdered Barbara Bouchet appeared in the spoofy 1967 version of Casino Royale, but there’s so many of James’ dates in this film. If you read yesterdays post on Barbara Bach, you may have noticed an omission. I neglected to say anything about her role as Anya Amasova in The Spy Who Loved Me. Well, I had to save it for today; after all, Bach’s Bond girl is often credited as being the first to break from the traditional archtype. Of course, the fact that she’s even more ravishing in the 007 film than either Fishmen or Black Belly surely also serves remembering. The last of the Black Belly Bond Babes (say that five times fast) is Claudine Auger who appeared in Thunderball as Domino. All three provide with more than eye candy turning in fine performances, although in the case of Bouchet that generally meant getting gutted.

What really makes Black Belly work is the mixture of violent kills, a tense mystery, a great action sequences. There’s a rooftop chase in this film that is worth the price of admission by itself, and then it gets capped off with a great shot of a falling dummy. These action scenes really kept the film’s pace up where some other gialli become mired in endless fretting. Again this is where the Tellini character really works, while we’ve seen him at home playing the part of the put upon schlub, there’s something about him that makes him a believable action hero. It doesn’t hurt that the scenes, like the whole film, are enhanced by the frenetic score by Ennio Morricone. I know I’ve raved about his work before many times and no one needs me to tell them how good Morricone is, but I’m going to anyway. The score to this film was both memorable and played perfectly with the artful direction of Cavara and Marcello Gatti’s amazing cinematography.

Great gialli always have their own sense of style, and Black Belly of the Tarantula is no exception. Where other films revel in the high life, Cavara’s film almost feels like a urban film. The clothes for the most part understated, though some of the women wear stunning couture on occasion. Still the setting feels very much removed from the cosmopolitan digs that usually dominate these kinds of films. On the whole the Rome seen in the film has much more in common with the polizia than the stylized locales from a Bava or Argento film. It adds to the great chemistry this film has. Cavara somehow brought a perfect balance to the screen and delivered a film that looks, sounds, and feels like its own entity.

To add the icing on the cake of this film, the ending is by far one of my favorite conclusions to a gialli. It’s surprising and to make it even better, it even makes sense. I know, who could ask for much more? Not this Bugg, I’ll tell you that. Black Belly of the Tarantula was a great way to round out this month long celebration of Italian thrills, and I hope everyone enjoyed it. Next month, they’ll be no new feature because the whole month of October is going to be devoted to silent Russian dramas of the 1920’s and 1930’s.

Seriously.

Ok, maybe not seriously. How about a whole month of horror movies capped off with the return of the Halloween Top 13? Sounds better, huh? Well stay tuned for more details in the next couple of days on how you can be a part of Halloween Top 13: The Sequel. Until then, this is the ever lovin’ Bugg, signing off, putting on his black trench coat, donning some yellow gloves, and exiting in the night with a pocket full of straight razors and piano wire. See you folks real soon.

Bugg Rating



French Sex Murders (1972): So Much Better Than Luxembourg Heavy Petting Stranglings

When you come across a film with a name like French Sex Murders, it makes it hard to resist. When you see that it stars a Humphrey Bogart look-a-like, the Swiss Boris Karloff, and a bevy of beautiful genre actresses, well, if you’re like me, then you’ll jump at the chance to see this one. Before you do, I advise that you invite a friend over to watch with you. When I watched French Sex Murders, I was lucky enough to be joined by my pal Fran Goria, and we had lots of fun watching this film together. From the opening scene featuring an animated man falling from the Eiffel Tower to the color spectrum kills and the myriad of ascots on display, there was something interesting going on even in the slowest parts of this film.


French Sex Murders was of course not the original title for the film. In Italian that was Casa d'appuntamento which can be translated literally to House of Appointment. I assume this refers to the setting where the murders first kick off, the “massage parlor” owned by Madame Colette (Anita Ekberg). When one of her girls is murdered, the Bogart-esque Inspector Pontaine (Robert Sacchi) quickly pins the blame on her jilted ex-boyfriend Antoine (Pietro Martellanza). When Antonio is sentenced to death for the crime, he curses all the people who put him in the situation to face the guillotine. Before his execution takes place, Antoine breaks free, but he is still beheaded in a motorcycle accident. Even after his death, people he had cursed start showing up dead, and it falls to the Inspector to discover if the culprit is the spirit of revenge or just someone with murder on their mind.

Director Ferdinando Merighi only directed three films in his short career and the only other notable entry is one of the generic Trinity films (Allegri becchini... arriva TrinitĂ  (1972)). There seems to be pretty good reasoning behind the lack of films in his catalog.  Merighi just wasn’t that good of a director. That’s not saying he didn’t have ideas. He also filled the role of writer for French Sex Murders, and overall the plot was well formed though a tad convoluted at times. It was the details of the movie that both made it and broke it all at once. I’ll admit that Fran and I ran the DVD back several times to laugh at the animated man falling from the famous French landmark, and both severed heads that appear in the film were cause for more than a few chuckles. It’s kind of a surprise that the effects are so poor. Esteemed special effects designer Carlo Rambaldi (E.T., Alien, and Bay of Blood) was in charge, but I imagine that the budget was very low and he had little to work with. At least the score by Bruno Nicolai hit the mark with moody pieces that stack up to any of his work in The Case of the Bloody Iris or Your Vice is a Locked Room.

The real star of the show is the performance of New Jersey born actor Robert Sacchi. He does bear a striking resemblance to Bogart which was mined more effectively in the 1980 film The Man with Bogart’s Face. From most angles he does look like the star of The Big Sleep and Casablanca, but he could almost as easily be seen as a Richard M. Nixon clone if he isn’t holding his head the right way. The actor does a fine job playing the tough guy, but the dubbing, done by someone trying to further the Bogart connection, made his lines laughable at times. As if one look alike was not enough, Swiss born actor Howard Vernon bears a striking resemblance to Boris Karloff (actually more like a cross between Karloff and Jeremy Irons). It’s no wonder that he was cast as the evil Dr. Orloff four times in films by Jess Franco and Pierre Chevalier.

The film also features a lot of fine looking ladies including Barbara Bouchet (Black Belly of the Tarantula), Rosalba Neri (Lady Frankenstein), Evelyn Kraft (Lady Dracula), and Anita Ekberg (La Dolce Vita). Needless to say the presence of these lovely ladies provide the film with lots of nice window dressing, but none of them really have anything to do other than look pretty. Surprisingly, there is scant nudity in the film with Bouchet being the only one who doffs her clothes. I’m not saying that it ruined the film for me, but with a title like French Sex Murders, and with a cast of babes like that, I expected something a little more salacious. I suppose this would be a good time to bring into this producer Dick Randell, whose entire body of work is filled with mondo gems like The Wild, Wild World of Jayne Mansfield, horror films such as Pieces and Slaughter High, and exploitation “classics” like For Your Height Only. French Sex Murders was not as sleazy as I would have expected from Randell’s work.

All in all, French Sex Murders has its moments. Not tense moments, or mysterious moments, or gory moments, or particularly sexy moments, but it does have enough strange moments to make the film enjoyable. I don’t know if I would feel the same way if I didn’t have someone here to riff on the film with, but thankfully, Fran and I laughed our heads off the whole time.If you can see that many French dress mullets and not laugh, then you're a stronger person than either of us. So if you’re into Italian films and gialli, and want to watch one with some friends for fun, this is a great choice. If you’re looking for a great entry into the genre then you might be better off looking somewhere else.


Bugg Rating

Couldn't find a trailer, but here's part one of the Wild World of Dick Randell from the Mondo Macabro DVD

The Killer Must Kill Again (1975): He's Got OCD for Murder

The title of today’s selection for Once Upon a Time in Italy is The Killer Must Kill Again [Italian: Il ragno]. If you wonder why the killer must kill again, it is very easily explained. Otherwise, he would be known as “the guy who used to used to kill” and not “the killer”. That kind of thing is hard on the ego and all. Ok, so maybe that’s not his motivation, but for the week leading up to watching this film, I annoyed my wife with that joke so I thought it only fair that I spread the pain. The Killer Must Kill Again is directed by Luigi Cozzi, a director I talked about sometime back with my review of Starcrash (which you can also hear about on Sinful Cinema Episode 5). Cozzi doesn’t have the best track record overall, but lately I’ve been on quite the giallo kick so I couldn’t resist checking out this title. Plus, it stars the indomitable George Hilton whose presence will get me to check out any film.

When Georgio Mainardi (George Hilton) happens to spy a killer (Michel Antoine) disposing of a body in a river, he sees an opportunity to get rid of his domineering wife Nora (Teresa Velazquez). He talks the killer into offing his wife for a hefty sum of money. While Georgio is away at a party setting up a rock solid alibi, the killer travels to Georgio’s home, gets inside by posing as a business associate, and kills the wife. When a couple of joyriding teens steal his car, the killer must boost another ride to chase the teens as they head for the beach. Meanwhile, the case comes under heavy scrutiny from the police inspector (Eduardo Fajardo), and Georgio find himself under suspicion for the perfectly planned murder.

Watching the DVD extras on the Mondo Macabre disk, I was struck at how much Luigi Cozzi’s career mirrored the tales you hear coming from genre directors in the United States. Like them, Cozzi grew up a science fiction fan and a lover of Famous Monsters of Filmland. By his early twenties, he was the Italian correspondent for Forrest J. Ackerman’s magazine, and when he was only twenty-two years old, he made his first low budget film, The Tunnel Under the World an interpretation of a story by science fiction writer Fredrick Poul. It was his association with his friend Dario Argento that finally got him into the business of making films. First, he helped write Argento’s giallo Four Flies on Grey Velvet before Dario got Luigi a job directing on the TV series Door Into Darkness. After directing one of the most popular episodes, Cozzi was given a chance to direct his first feature which was coincidentally The Killer Must Kill Again.

For anyone who has seen Cozzi’s later hackneyed work, it is hard to wrap your mind around TKMKA being from the same director. His style had clearly been influenced by his friend Dario, but there are quite a few artistic flourishes that make this film visually interesting. Working with cinematographers Riccardo Pallottini (The Man From Deep River, Lady Frankenstein) and Franco Di Giacomo, Cozzi explored many interesting angles moving shots to create suspense in the film. After all, unlike most gialli, the killer’s identity is plainly known throughout so Cozzi had to use the camera (and a clever script) to toy with the audience’s expectations. The scene that stands out above all is the intercutting of a fairly non-explicit rape with a scene of moderately explicit consensual lovemaking. It’s a great juxtaposition to begin with, but it also makes the rape, sparingly and without much detail, quite chilling.

Cozzi not only had a solid script to work with and some cinematic ideas to put on the screen, but also a solid cast to work with. French actor Michel Antoine (whose real name was Antoine Saint-John) is really the star of this film despite the appearance of the better-known George Hilton. With his angular face and a look that seems like James Coburn and Anthony Perkins had a baby, he makes for an incredibly creepy figure on the screen. You look at the guy, and it’s quite easy to think that he’s a killer. I’m sure that’s great for getting film roles, but it must be hell getting dates. While he made a handful of other films, his most role would be his turn as the artist Schweick in Fulci’s film The Beyond, Antoine never really ended up being a mainstay in films of the time. That’s too bad because of all the gialli killers I’ve seen he definitely had me convinced that he was capable of what I saw onscreen.

While George Hilton got top billing for this film, he really has precious little screen time. That being said, he does put in a solid performance anytime he does show up. His character is easily a despicable slime ball, and I thought it was very clever that what begins to give away his guilt to the police, a monogrammed lighter, would act as a reference to Hitchcock’s Strangers on a Train, a film the Cozzi no doubt was inspired by. The only two other real characters are the teen joy riders, Luca and Laura. Now, Luca he lives on the seventh floor. No, wait, that’s a Suzanne Vega song. This Luca played by Alessio Orano, who also appeared in the Mario Bava film Lisa and the Devil, and he gives the teen a pompous confidence that made this viewer want to sock him in the jaw for most of the film. Meanwhile, Laura, played by Christina Galbo, seems a sweet girl who unfortunately is mixed up with an asshole whose actions end with her being stalked by a killer (who must kill again).

Delving deeper into Luigi Cozzi’s catalog might not garner you many (if any) films of the same quality as The Killer Must Kill Again, but there are a few entertaining choices to be had. However, if I were going to recommend one of the director’s films to someone, I would definitely steer them toward The Killer Must Kill Again. While it doesn’t really function in the typical style of a giallo, Cozzi’s use of camerawork to add suspense hints at a career that could have been had Cozzi not went down a path of science fiction and fantasy films instead. So fans of giallo and Italian film should check this one out, and if you’ve seen any of Lugi’s later film, don’t hold that against him.

Bugg Rating

Couldn't find a trailer so here's Rev. Phantom's excellent video review of Contamination.

La ragazza dal pigiama giallo [a.k.a The Pajama Girl Case] (1972): The PJs That Leave You D.O.A.

So last week I took some for watching non-traditional giallo The House with Laughing Windows and coming away with less than a smile on my face. For this week I thought I would look at another giallo that doesn’t fit the typical mold. While La ragazza dal pigiama giallo (a.k.a The Pajama Girl Case or The Girl in the Yellow Pajamas) definitely doesn’t try to be your average giallo, but it maintains some elements including the amateur detective (sort of), stylish locales (well, Australia), and foreigners (in this case an Italian) living abroad. By taking elements from gialli and mixing them up with a clever twist, director Flavio Mogherini created a singular film that stands out from the legion of rote gialli.

When a woman’s body in yellow pajamas is found on an Australian beach, the police are baffled, but retired detective Inspector Thompson (Ray Milland) takes the opportunity to get back to solving crimes. Glenda Blythe (Dalila Di Lazzaro) is a promiscuous young woman with a trio of lovers, a distinguished college professor, a macho lunkhead, and a sweet waiter who worships her. She marries the waiter, but that doesn’t stop her from seeing her other lovers. As Thompson closes in on the killer, his story and Glenda’s draw ever closer. When they meet, the solution to the crime becomes all too clear.

In some ways Mogherini’s film is like an ancient episode of Law & Order, and if Milland’s Inspector was not retired, I would be tempted to call this one more of a poliziotteschi than a giallo. Another thing that might almost knock it from the giallo label is the absence of a pile of bodies as the film only boasts two murders. What was key to me deciding if I was going to call this one a gialli were the earmarks that were present. Other than the amateur detective, foreignness in a far off land, and cosmopolitan feeling of the film, there were plenty of red herrings, striking images, and lovely ladies to go around. The concept of the giallo stems directly from pulpy thriller novels, and Mogherini definitely captures that feeling.

Perhaps the thing I liked most was the performance of Ray Milland. I’ve always enjoyed Milland ever since I first saw him in Dial M for Murder, and even his performances in lackluster films like Frogs and X: The Man with the X-Ray Eyes did nothing to dull my love for the actor. In the mid- to late ‘70’s, many forgotten American actors found work in foreign cinema, and Milland starred in films such as Cuibul salamandrelor (a.k.a The Billon Dollar Fire) and The Pajama Girl Case. Though Milland’s Inspector Thompson does have a few moments of unintentional (or maybe intentional, it’s hard to say) creepiness, he cultivates an endearing character that seems like one part Colombo and one part everyone’s Grandpa. The scene that best illustrates his character comes when the police decide to put the dead girl’s body in a glass case in hopes that someone will identify her. The solemn, disappointed, pained expression that Milland conveys when he visits the deceased young woman that has been turned into a curiosity perfectly conveys everything you need to know about the character.

There are several other performances that deserve to be noted. Dalila Di Lazzaro really captured my eye as I watched the film not only because of her good looks (and she’s got plenty), but also because of the raw vulnerable performance that she turns in. In the back half of the film, Di Lazzaro character really hits an emotional low that is both painful and revolting to watch. I wish I could go further into her scenes, but her most powerful moments all but giveaway the central conceit of the film. I do have one thing to say about her character Glenda. I don’t know what you have to do to make a lesbian pass at her and make sure she knows it, but it must be an astounding feat. Also turning in fine performances were Ramiro Oliveos as the misguided police inspector Ramsey, Michele Placido as Glenda’s doting husband, and Mel Ferrer as Glenda’s lover the dickish college professor.

Perhaps the strangest thing about this film is that, unlike most gialli, The Pajama Girl Case was based on a real murder in Australia. It seems that back in 1934, while walking his new prized bull toward his home in rural Albury, Australia, Tom Griffith spotted something strange. When he went over to take a look at it, it seemed to be a mangled and burned corpse. After the authorities were called in, they determined it to be a petite female, in her twenties, who had been shot in the throat, and bludgeoned. The only clue to her identity being the partial, oriental-style silk pajamas that survived the flames, identification of the victim proved difficult, and when a couple of missing persons leads didn’t pan out, the local authorities allowed the body of the now dubbed “Pyjama Girl” to be moved to Sydney, where it was embalmed, preserved, and put on public display for identification. I bring this up because it adds an extra layer to the film that, when I read about it, added to my appreciation of the film. (There's a pretty interesting Newsreeel about the case that can be seen here)

Getting back to the film, Mogherini really picked some great people to work with on this one. The soundtrack was written by Riz Ortolani with songs written by model, and one time girlfriend of Roxy Music’s Bryan Ferry, Amanda Lear. Ortolani provides great tense music throughout the film, but the real standouts were Ms. Lear’s two songs. At first when the title song, “Your Yellow Pajama” came on, I didn’t think much of its Leonard Cohen meets Roxy Music meets sad Blondie vibe. Yet when it came back around in the film, I really appreciated how much it actually fit the tone, and that goes equally, if not more, for the other track, “Look at Her Dancing”. The cinematography of the film, which boasts some great lighting and perfectly placed swooping shots, was handled by two men, Raul Artigot (Ghost Ships of the Blind Dead, The Erotic Rites of Frankenstein) and Carlo Carlini (Cry of a Prostitute, Seven Deaths in a Cat’s Eye). These two experienced men translate Glenda’s oppressive, murky world of sex and Thompson’s strange investigation to the screen perfectly.

The Pajama Girl Case might straddle the line of what might or might not be considered a giallo, but in my eyes, either way you call it this is an excellent film. Anyone who has seen the film will know that there is a major twist about 20 minutes from the end. It was subtly telegraphed, but so expertly executed that it didn’t bother me. Instead it made the film for me. I wish I could share with you folks more about why I thought I was so good, but there will be no spoilers here. Like any great mystery, it’s one that I will have to leave you intrigued enough to pursue yourself. When a director takes a standard form and puts his own stamp on it, it can go two ways. In the case of The Girl with the Yellow Pajamas, the film itself goes in two directions and both are equally as satisfying.

Bugg Rating
I couldn't find a trailer, but here is a nice 3 minute clip from the film showing the public coming into check out the body in the case. Ortolani's music in this scene is killer.

Don't forget to check out Sinful Cinema Podcast with Rev. Phantom and T.L. Bugg!

The House with Laughing Windows (1976): A Movie That Should Have Been Shuttered

Before I checked out today’s film, the only things I knew about director Pupi Avati, were that he had a hilarious sounding first name and he had directed the much loved 1983 film Zeder. I haven’t ever had a chance to see that film thanks to Netflix and their “Very Long Wait” (seriously folks return what you rent) so since I wanted to see one of his films I decided to check out his 1976 giallo The House with Laughing Windows [Italian: La casa dalle finestre che ridono]. Whenever I watch a gialli, I have certain expectations, amateur detectives, stylish locales, beautiful women, vicious kills, and red herrings that keep my eyes glued to the screen. On some counts Avati brings to goods, but if you want to know if I came away are joyous as the titular windows, then you’ll have to read on.

Stefano (Lino Capolicchio), an expert in art restoration, is called to the small, Italian coastal town of Ferrara to repair a fresco of St. Sebastian in a local church. He finds the painting striking in its portrayal of the Saint’s martyrdom, and he soon learns that the artist was a local man named Legaini, called the Painter of Agony by the townsfolk for his penchant to paint subjects who are close to death. As Stefano tries to settle into the local hotel, he receives a call warning him to go away, but he ignores the warning. Instead he goes to lunch with his friend Antonio who recommended him for the job. Antonio implies that there is something sinister going on in the village, but he won’t talk about it there. He calls Stefano to his room, but as the art restorer arrives, he sees his friend thrown to his death. The police contend the death is a suicide, and it only serves to make Stefano more determined to find out what secrets the town and the fresco hold.

Right up front House with Laughing Windows satisfies several of the giallo conventions. An outsider comes to a town and becomes quickly involved in discovering a secret when his friend is murdered. That base description could be applied to many, many films in the genre. Unfortunately, after this base idea House with Laughing Windows dispenses with many of the other things that make gialli so interesting to watch. There are only two murders in the film, both of them off-screen, the setting is plain and dominated by browns, and the few ladies that grace the screen are far from the stylish, sexual beasts that usually prowl the screen of the Italian thriller. I also noticed a severe lack of misdirection. I never suspected anyone as the killer really so the ending was less of an “aha” than a “hmm so that’s it” moment.

The narrative also plays out at an extremely slow pace. It basically is a collection of scenes featuring Capolicchio interacting with various strange acting townsfolk. The film never manages to really strike a tone that would inspire tension. In a few scenes, Capolicchio’s character is creeping around a dark house, and because of the absence of any on-screen violence, I never felt like the protagonist was in any kind of danger at all. This left me struggling to keep myself interested in the events of the film at all. When the big concept behind the film is finally revealed, I did have to give the film some credit for original thinking, but as it is the best part I won’t spoil it for anyone who would like to see the film. Suffice it to say that I think this film could be easily reworked and the action amped up to make it much more interesting.

I really don’t have anything much else to say about this film. None of the supporting cast performed well enough to warrant a mention, Avati’s direction was plain and uninspired, the score by Amedeo Tommasi was utterly forgettable and lead actor Capolicchio just seemed like an unfunny version of Chris Elliot wearing a massive hairpiece. I know that many people find this film to be quite good because it breaks out of the more traditional giallo mold, but for me, that is exactly what broke the film. In the couple of years I’ve been writing the LBL, I’ve seen a ton of gialli, but by far this was the worst I have seen. That, my friends, is absolutely no laughing matter.

Bugg Rating

The Eyes of Laura Mars (1978): You Wont Believe It's Not Italian

Beautiful Ladies of Genre is back, and I wanted to pick one of my favorite actresses from the ‘70’s to kick off the New Year. From Bonnie and Clyde and Network to Chinatown and Barfly, Faye Dunaway starred in so many of my favorite films. One of her movies that I didn’t know a thing about was The Eyes of Laura Mars, but after reading over the cast and looking into the film a bit, I knew I had to see it. Coming off her best actress win for Network, Dunaway landed this part when the films original lead, Barbara Streisand, dropped out of the role due to the racy nature of the story. It is a little racy, a little bloody, and even a little supernatural around the edges, but the most important thing that The Eyes of Laura Mars might be is a fantastic example of an American giallo.

Titular character Laura Mars (Dunaway) is a famous and controversial photographer who is often criticized for the images of violence and death in her work. On the night of her big gallery opening, the editor of Laura’s book of photographs is brutally killed, and Laura had dreamed the killing just as it happened. Police detective John Neville (Tommy Lee Jones) notices the similarities between Laura’s pictures and a string of unsolved murders spanning two years. The cops soon clear Laura of any wrongdoing, but they begin to delve into her life examining the men in her life including her manager Donald Phelps (Rene Auberjonois), her driver Tommy (Brad Dorif), and her ex-husband Michael (Raul Julia). As the bodies continue to pile up, Laura’s visions of the murders become more intense, and the killer must be stopped before he makes Laura his final target.

If I read you that plot, without the famous Hollywood names thrown in, it would sound an awful lot like it came through the lens of Dario Argento. While it did not come directly from him, it surely is a film that is reflected though a prism of many Italian genre filmmakers’ work. The original kernel of the idea for The Eyes of Laura Mars comes from a spec script called Eyes by John Carpenter. His film Halloween, also released in 1978, would owe something of a debt to a similar kind of “spaghetti nightmare”. The script was bought by producer Jon Peters as a vehicle for his girlfriend, the aforementioned Streisand, and he brought on David Zelag Goodman, writer of Logan’s Run and Straw Dogs, to put a polish on the script. There’s no way to tell what is Goodman and what was Carpenter, but the heavy feeling of paranoia, the obvious nods to the Italian giallo film, and the sudden violence feels like Carpenter’s work.

Peters brought in director Irvin Kerhner, a twenty year veteran of the business with a journeyman rĂ©sumĂ©. Kerhner gave the film a dreamlike quality, but without the dark, moodiness that giallo films typically have. (In a way, I wonder if the bright, modern feeling of The Eyes of Laura Mars influenced Argento when he returned to the genre 1982 with the brightly lit Tenebre.) Kerhner did crib from the Italian film playbook with the fetishistic amount of footage dedicated to eyes, but the difference is in an Italian film, you’d get to see more of the victims get their eyes stabbed out than the implied violence shown in the film. The cinematic tone of the film is dead on and Kerhner and director of photography Victor Kemper (Dog Day Afternoon, The Jerk, Pee-Wee’s Big Adventure) use the camera to build tension quite effectively. The Eyes of Laura Mars also captures the gritty, grimy look of late ’70’s New York, and that added a lot of flavor to the film. While the movie was only a moderate financial success, an early screening of the film convinced George Lucas to hire Kerhner to direct The Empire Strikes Back, and changed his career considerably.

Of course all of this would have been for nothing if the lead role had been played by Barbara Streisand. I can’t see Babs being able to give the same wounded, paranoid performance as Faye Dunaway. She gives Lara Mars intensity without ever going over the top (for that performance see Mommy Dearest). It’s really a different kind of role than I normally expect from her. When you look at characters like Bonnie Parker or Diane Christianson in Network, you see a strong character. Even her role in the classic Chinatown is not without strength. Laura Mars is a woman caught in an insulated spiral of violence. After all, your friends getting killed is bad, but having to helplessly watch it would drive most people crazy. Her weakness and vulnerability serves to heighten the suspense, and Miss Dunaway definitely gives the standout performance in this film.

That’s not to say that the supporting cast is not without people who should be mentioned. One of the reasons I chose to check this flick out was the sheer amount of performers in it. Tommy Lee Jones’s cop is a seventies guy all the way and from his glorious mane of hair to his bellbottomed jeans, and he is very entertaining to watch though I do think he was much, much better in his next film 1980’s Coal Miner’s Daughter. The Eyes of Laura Mars also garners supporting roles from Rene Auberjonois as Laura’s fey manager, Raul Julia as her slimy, abusive ex-husband, and Brad Dorif as her ex-con driver. All three are great to watch and if there’s another film that has Odo from Deep Space Nine, Gomez from the Addams Family, and Chuckie in it then I would love to know what it is.

Fans of giallo film and seventies cinema should definitely be checking this one out. It doesn’t have all of the charm of contemporary Italian fare, but its got tons of style and a pretty fascinating storyline to boot. The thing it does best is play with misdirection. It kept me guessing who the culprit was right up until the end, and the finale of the film was far from what I expected. In fact, this film was pretty far from what I expected. I came across The Eyes of Laura Mars while browsing the “Watch It Now” portion of Netflix, and I’m certainly glad I gave it a shot. It’s a slice of ‘70’s cinema that definitely deserves to have more eyes on it.

Bugg Rating