Spaghetti Splatter Saturday, or, My First Moviethon

 

   

Like many movie maniacs, I'm a sucker for a well-paired double (and sometimes even a triple or quadruple) feature. In fact, I'd say that planning a successful movie night is an art in itself. There's no hard or fast rules to it, but ideally there should be some kind of connecting thread, be it obvious or obscure. It goes without saying that the movie marathon is the logical next step up from such a film feast, but until last week I'd yet to indulge in such a sustained period of cinematic pigging out. 

I was eventually inspired to make this first (somewhat tentative) foray into the world of the moviethon by Richard Schmidt and his wonderful website Doomed Moviethon, which chronicles his numerous movie marathons, focusing heavily on Italian horror, and especially the giallo. In fact, I hear he's working on a book that documents his weekend long indulgences in the latter, that he's calling Giallo Meltdown. I also highly recommend his podcast (co-hosted with his buddy Brad Hogue), Hello! This is the Doomed Show. Both entertaining and informative, these two guys have introduced me to a good few Euro horror treasures that I otherwise might not have encountered and I've spent many an enjoyable hour listening to them chew the fat.

Following in his footsteps, I'll try to refrain (for the most part) from reviewing the films in the traditional manner, instead focusing on trying to convey the experience itself, and my moment to moment reactions.

******DISCLAIMER******

By the way, I think I should probably issue a GENERAL SPOILER ALERT!!!!! at this point, although for most of these movies (with the exceptions of Trauma and Phenomena) I can't imagine it will really matter too much what I give away plot-wise.

Saturday 17th November 2012 

11:40 - Zombie (Lucio Fulci, 1979)

I'd originally intended to start this moviethon yesterday, when I would have had more free time, but due to life intruding (as it often does, and will continue to, as you'll see later today), was unfortunately unable. As a result, there was a lot of 11th hour chopping and changing of the schedule, with many titles now pushed back into the pile for later dates.

After more last minute messing around, I'm finally at the point where, as Dr. Menard says before the credits: "The boat can leave now".

Less than ten minutes in and I'm fully acclimatised, and already mentally ticking off Italian horror staples (i.e. the things that'd be making up rules for a drinking game, if I wasn't poor at present). In this case, it's some good old visceral throat violence, and a cheeky cameo from Fulci himself. I love how he often plays his protagonist's boss, appearing only to send them off on an errand of DOOM! The man in question, intrepid reporter Peter West (Ian McCulloch) is a shamelessly flirtatious, but not altogether unchivalrous dude. He makes no attempt to hide the fact that he'd quite fancy a bit of Tisa Farrow's character, but I suppose he offers to carry her bags at least.

Stopping and ejecting the film briefly - as my parents have just departed for the weekend - I move this party downstairs onto the big TV, just in time for some zombie vs. shark action.... Oh, and hey kids, it's Al Cliver!

Just before Olga Karlatos' ill-fated encounter with that infamous splinter, it occurs to me that these zombies seem to have a thing for wet naked chicks....but don't we all I suppose.... "Speak for yourself darling!" some sassy gay dude bellows from the back of my brain suddenly....Anyway, moving swiftly onwards!

Like many Fulci movies, Zombie contains its share of sly humour, which provides some welcome but brief relief from the pervasive sense of dread that permeates the film; also, like in the maestro's other movies there are a few scenes that are unexpectedly (yet effectively) melancholic. In other words, it's undoubtedly entertaining, but also surprisingly moving at times, especially for what's usually pegged as a gory exploitation movie. This is something I've started to notice in general with Fulci's films the more that I re-watch them.

By the way, I love how they have bits of earth falling off the camera lens when we're looking through the POV of the zombie conquistadors rising from their graves... The devil's in the details as they say..... 

One thing that does irk me slightly (and is to be expected in these sorts of movies but is still fodder for a bit of fun as it generally makes me yell at the screen) is during the climactic siege (which is so frickin' awesome it makes me wanna punch the air in the face), where some of the female characters just seem to stand there paralysed, practically inviting their own impending destruction. I mean most of these zombies move at the pace of goddamn glaciers, so just run for Christ's sake! Admittedly though, this is a rare and minor quibble in an otherwise thoroughly awesome film, and besides, Fulci movies are not exactly the kind where you wanna be over using your left brain anyway, so silence your inner pedant and enjoy!

Oh, and I'd be remiss if I didn't mention (and add a screenshot of) the brief cameo by a zombified (and very pale looking) Cheech Marin who seems to have developed a terminal case of the munchies....just kidding sadly...would be amazing if it was him....

DISCLAIMER: Before we continue I think it's only fair to warn you that things may get slightly hazy from here on in, for two reasons. Firstly, it's been over nine months (!) since I actually sat down and watched these movies, so my memories of the moviethon (despite copious note taking) aren't as fresh as would be ideal for such a write up. This is further compounded by the second reason....that is, I decided to take a quick break before the next film to ingest some mind bending chemicals. Having said all this, I REGRET NOTHING!!!! Sorry for the angry capitals there, don't know what came over me...Moving swiftly on...

13:46 - Nightmare City (Umberto Lenzi, 1980)

Lenzi's sublimely silly flick seems like the ideal choice to follow Fulci's pull-no-punches splatter classic. Both movies are a lot of fun, and their directors apparently shared an ambition for their films to transcend their B-Movie statuses.  

As I implied earlier, I think you can enjoy Zombie as both a fun romp and something a bit more heavy, if you're so inclined (i.e. its touch feels relatively light but in many ways it's as bleak as anything else Fulci directed). However, despite Lenzi's best intentions to add a socio-political message to Nightmare City, I find it impossible to take it even remotely seriously, although this is certainly not a bad thing, by any means....

For some reason, not far into the film I find myself playing air drums (specifically the cowbell, I think) to Stelvio Cipriani's groovy score (this is what happens when you sit alone watching Italian horror movies in a dark room all alone and high as a kite on a Saturday afternoon folks). This soon leads to an epiphany of sorts....that all orchestral movie scores would benefit immeasurably from a bit of electric bass, guitar and synth action.

There are many curious sights to behold in Nightmare City, but one that really puzzled me is why the hell are all the cameraman in the ill-fated TV studio wearing lab coats? Was this standard issue apparel for such a job in the early 80s? 

Speaking of strange, there's something odd about Hugo Stiglitz's performance as our dashing protagonist... almost like he's not entirely there or something.... oh, wait a minute.... that would actually explain a few things.

In fact, one could argue that the film's dénouement goes some way towards explaining both Stiglitz's sometimes seemingly vacant screen presence (although to be fair he does a mean army roll when jumping off a balcony, and when he throws a TV you better watch the fuck out!) and the frankly craptastic make-up effects.

Also of note (although somewhat incongruous in this particular flick) is the scene where two women are shacked up in a barricaded house. One of them creeps around with an oil lamp, projecting groovy gothic ambiance over the whole sequence. It almost feels like it's appeared out of another movie (in fact, it feels strikingly similar to the vibe that Fulci would create for a film's full duration with next year's The House by the Cemetery), but exudes such style and suspense that I've gotta give Lenzi and his DP Hans Burman their dues for it. 

Last but not least, the climactic scene takes place on a frickin' roller-coaster for crying out load, so what else do you need? (To say nothing of the movie's wonderful "ending" of course....)

"I don't know what the fuck just happened to me but I am so stoked for the next movie...."

15:45 - City of the Living Dead (Lucio Fulci, 1980)

Rounding off the first half of today's viewing (and also forming a fairly solid zombie themed triple bill with the previous two movies) is our second and (owing to time constraints and much dicking around from your's truly) final feature from splatter supremo Lucio Fulci.

It begins with darkness and an ear piercing scream....followed some epic, and downright apocalyptic intro music from Fulci regular Fabio Frizzi. 

We open on a fog shrouded cemetery, which we float slowly across like disembodied spirits as the credits roll past. We come across the brooding figure of Father Thomas (played by the striking looking Fabrizio Jovine), who soon hangs himself, causing all hell to quite literally break loose.

Of all of the films from Fulci's Gates of Hell trilogy, this is the one that gets me most on a visceral level, and for a while it was my favourite of the three, but House by the Cemetery has since overtaken it. The Beyond is still amazing, but the somewhat compromised final reel - with zombies added in against Fulci's wishes in order to appease the German producers - has relegated it to third place for me (although this could no doubt change in the future).

To be honest though, today I'm not getting into the movie as much as I normally do, which I would attribute to the time of day I'm watching it. The room I'm in is as dark as it can be made but I think that this one really needs to be watched at night, and in an ideal world, with the curtains open and dense mist or fog creeping around outside.... actually, I'd probably shit myself if I tried that one.... it would certainly be interesting though.... At any rate, its foreboding atmosphere seems to increase tenfold once the sun sets.  

There's not a lot I can say about it based on this particular re-watch, but here's a few things I particularly dug this time round. And in the interest of brevity (seeing as I've been far from succinct so far), here's some bullet points:

• Theresa (Adelaide Aste), the master medium, has some wonderfully portentous dialogue. For example: "At this very precise moment, in some other distant town, horrendously awful things are happening, things that would shatter your imagination!".... I won't go into detail on what these hideous events she alludes to involve as you'll already be well aware if you've seen it, and if you haven't, I wouldn't want to spoil it for you....
• The only one I'll mention (and this isn't a spoiler as it's very early in the movie) is when Mary (Catriona MacColl) wakes up in a coffin after being presumed dead from fright (she sees Father Thomas hang himself during a séance) and starts trying to claw her way out. There's some damn icky shit in this movie, but strangely, it's only this moment (and it's attendant nail trauma) that makes me squirm every time.
• I love Christopher George's performance here as a cocksure, cigar smoking reporter (somewhat in the vein of Ian McCulloch in Zombie); he practically swaggers his way through the entire film and adds some greatly appreciated humour to this thoroughly morbid movie (and I mean that in a purely descriptive sense, as opposed to derogatory). 
• Whilst I'm sure the movie would have looked even more amazing in 35mm, I'd argue the grainier 16mm stock they used is actually quite effective at times, especially during those wonderfully atmospheric, foggy exterior scenes. 
• On a related note, the Blu-Ray I'm watching (from Arrow Video) is a treat for the eyes and ears; the 7.1 surround re-mix really adds some extra kick to Frizzi's already menacing score, and those gorgeous midnight blue gel lights really pop off the screen.... Incidentally, it always seems completely apt watching a movie with lots of blue lighting on this particular format, as we'll see with another film later in the moviethon.

Sorry, that wasn't particularly succinct either....

The original plan was to watch Inferno and The Beyond next, but time is short today and to be frank, I think that my experience watching COTLD just now has persuaded me that they'd be better placed right at the end of a moviethon and in the wee hours of the morning.... Plus, for some reason, I've got a strange urge to re-watch (drum roll please)........

17:32 - Mother of Tears (Dario Argento, 2007)

Now, some of you may be thinking "Jesus Christ, this guy really is high... he blew off Inferno to watch Mother of Tears", and to be fair to you, it's not a decision I can really justify on any other level than "this is what I'm more in the mood to watch right now". To be honest though, this movie gets unfairly maligned, no doubt due to the formidable shadow cast by its celebrated sisters, so I feel compelled to give it some love and attention, so to speak...

This film, like the previous one, starts with more shenanigans involving graveyards and priests who should probably know better. Yup, you've guessed it, yet again the forces of darkness are about to be unleashed upon an unsuspecting public..... And holy shit!!! this Mother really is the cruellest of the three... The first murder is easily on a par with Daniela Doria's infamous death in COTLD for its level of jaw-dropping visceral nastiness.... oh wait.... look out Asia!!! there's an evil monkey on the loose and he's got your shoes!!!

Probably the main reason this movie has been so poorly received by many is that it has (for the most part) a decidedly different feel to Suspiria and Inferno. This is no doubt due to many factors, but two spring immediately to mind. Firstly, it seems that by the time the nineties were rolling around, Italian horror film makers were starting to struggle due to changing times and a lack of finance; something that would continue throughout that decade and into the next. But perhaps more crucially (and forgive me if this is stating the obvious), the Dario Argento of the late seventies/early eighties is not the same filmmaker as the one who made this movie. 

  
Admittedly, and yes somewhat disappointingly, Mother of Tears doesn't have that constant psychedelic, fever dream ambience that make the other mothers such perennial favourites of midnight movie lovers, although there are occasional flashes, the most striking example being when Asia is about to enter Mater Lachrymarum's lair for the climactic showdown.

On the plus side, what it does share with its siblings is a sustained sense of unpredictable craziness that manages to maintain itself for almost all of their collective running times. To put it another way, there are some serious "Holy Shit!" moments scattered throughout here; I don't want to give anything away in case you haven't seen it, but suffice to say, Rome be going CRAAAZZZYYY!!! 

Plus, for pure watchability, I could happily put this on a near par with its predecessors (call me a heretic if you want), although time will truly tell as I've only seen it a few times, where as my viewings of the earlier two have been countless.

I'll say no more for now as I'd like to review this one more in depth at a later date.... Moving on, my next choice is another that wasn't part of the original schedule (if you can even call it that) but seemed like a no brainer (in more ways than one) to follow Mother of Tears. Making up the second part of this last minute 'Underrated, Argento/Argento Double Bill' is....

19:32 - Trauma (Dario Argento, 1993)

Trauma is sort of like the bastard love child of Argento's own gialli (especially Deep Red) and the American slasher movie. As you might expect then, it's both somewhat demented and more than a little derivative but hey, those are two of the most endearing traits of both sub-genres anyway so I'm not complaining. Sure, there are a couple of things in this movie that I can't really defend, but I still love it warts and all. 

Aside from being a good movie to double up with Mother of Tears, the main reason I put this on now is because I'm heading out to do a gig in a couple of hours and I need something I've seen enough times that I can just leave it on in the background while I'm getting ready and not feel like I'm missing anything. As you might imagine then, I didn't take many notes for this one...

Part way through the film, and while someone is getting decapitated, my good friend (and the band's drummer) Alex arrives; confusion soon erupts as the freshly lopped off head has just delivered what in any normal world would be considered a posthumous line of dialogue. As he's not familiar with Italian horror and its wonderfully relaxed approach to realism, I give Alex a quick 101 on the subject. He soon disappears into another room to tune his drums and I continue watching the madness unfold...     

For the rest of the movie, musical maestro Pino Donaggio has himself an unexpected collaborator in creating the film's soundtrack, as the intermittent sound of toms being pounded (with their pitch's occasionally shifted) wafts through from the other room. In one or two suspenseful moments this actually syncs up quite nicely; the rest of the time it's more discordant, but hell, in a movie like this it sort of works.

As with Mother of Tears (and probably all of the films in this moviethon) I'll revisit this in greater detail at a later date but before we move on I want to briefly mention what is perhaps the weirdest moment in the entire movie - the end credits scene. Constituting one of the most bizarre musical collisions I've heard this side of a Mr Bungle album, we get probably less than a minute of a reggae band performing on someone's balcony before Dario becomes more interested in their backup dancer, zooming in on her while simultaneously turning on the wind machines and bright white lights whilst Pino Donaggio's ethereal score supplants the groovy tune already being played. Yup, I don't know what it all means either (although the girl looks like she could be anorexic I suppose) but frankly I don't really care; Dario can pretty much do what he wants and I'll probably give him the benefit of the doubt.

21:30 approx - It's at this point that I must sadly put the moviethon on the back burner as Alex and I have got a gig to get to, but I've got the Blu-Ray for the final film already sat waiting in the player for when I get back in the wee hours.

The gig itself goes pretty well; it's a place we've played a few times before and one where thanks to the late starting time of the show we can guarantee most of the crowd are already wasted so they don't need much warming up.

I have to keep my concentration in check once or twice though, as this afternoon's viewing has got me on the lookout for scary Asian goth chicks and people with black gloves carrying suspicious packages. Luckily for everyone involved though, we manage to get through the gig without any blood being spilt on the dance floor; the only real casualties being some of the artists whose songs we chose to massacre....

After some quick post show drinks and the swift packing away of the gear (well, as swift as you can when negotiating drunk people while carrying speakers etc) guitarist/singer Steve and I depart the scene of our musical crimes and head homeward. 

The drive back gives me the opportunity to indulge in a couple of jazz fags (that's a joint for any confused non-Brits out there) before I get back and stick the final movie on.

04:10 - Phenomena (Dario Argento, 1985)

This is it folks, the home stretch.... and considering the time I feel surprisingly awake, but how could I not be, I'm about to watch one of my all time favourite Italian horror films (easily top three material and depending which day you ask me on it may be my number one; at any rate it's hands down my favourite Argento and also one of my favourite films period) so I'm completely psyched to get going. Plus, it was at a similar time of day and in a comparable state of consciousness that I first encountered this strange and beautiful beast of a movie, so conditions are perfect. 

Leading us into the awe-inspiring yet ominous Swiss landscape is another member of the Argento clan, Asia's elder step-sister (I think) Fiore. Apparently she didn't take to the acting game as favourably as her sibling (IMDb has only five acting credits listed for her, including an uncredited role as the Farraday Clinic's receptionist in Trauma) but she does a perfectly fine job here. As soon as she sets off into the forbidding Swiss valley and Dario's crane soars upwards to climb past some trees (with Bill Wyman and Terry Taylor's gorgeous "Valley" theme providing the perfect musical accompaniment as the wind whirls on the soundtrack), I find myself pulled through the membrane of the screen and completely sucked into Dario's mesmerising blue and breezy world. 

Incidentally, and as I said earlier about City of the Living Dead, this Blu-Ray, which is also from Arrow Video, is a must for lovers of 'blue movies' (ahem). Their track record with transfers of Argento movies in HD has been fairly inconsistent, but I'd argue this is one of their better efforts, though I'm not an A/V expert or anything. I've watched it a few times now, but this particular viewing I was especially knocked out by how deep and lustrous those beautiful blues are. There are many examples of this, but one that particularly took my breath away which I hadn't noticed till now is the cool and subtle colouring of the hills in the far distances in some exterior scenes. I'll say no more on that particular subject, though I could probably go on; in fact, the amount of notes I took about the colour in this film alone no doubt speaks volumes about the stoned, sleep deprived state I was in while watching it.

It was on that kind of purely sensorial level, as opposed to narrative, that I watched the movie this time around. I know that's sort of the point with Argento, but I was leaning that way much more heavily than I usually would.  And as a result, I don't really have much I can add about Phenomena for now (that I gleaned from this particular viewing that is), but rest assured, I'll be returning to drink deeper from Dario's weird and wonderful brew of insects, pissed off monkeys and telepathic, sleepwalking schoolgirls in the none too distant future. 

07:05 - The End

I'm frankly amazed I made it this far, especially in retrospect. I've had a fair few moviethons since this one and I struggle to push it past four in the morning now.... I think a decade's worth of over-indulgence has finally caught up with me this year.... or, to paraphrase Danny Glover: "I'm too old for this..."... My bed beckons... To be concluded tomorrow...

Sunday 18th November 2012 - Final Thoughts and a coda of sorts...

As you might imagine, it was early afternoon by the time I finally got up today. And as is usually the case with these things, I felt almost immediately compelled (after completing a couple of pressing chores) to watch another movie. Don't ask me why (apart from it appearing on the TV at the time) but for some reason I ended up watching The Silence of the Lambs, of all things. Now, in some ways this could be seen as something of an extreme gear shift, with it being sort-of the quintessential "respectable" horror film (so much so that it seems many don't even think of it as part of the genre), whereas Phenomena, on the other hand, was never gonna win any Oscars. But who cares about awards anyway I suppose?... or as Lester Bangs more eloquently put it: "fuck those people who'd rather be watching The Best Years of Our Lives or David and Lisa. We got our own good tastes..."

Such debates aside though, I had an unexpected revelation watching Silence the day after my Italian horror marathon... that is, it would actually work quite well as a bizarro double feature with Phenomena. Sure, they are wildly different films in many ways, but they also share some striking similarities, such as the importance of insects in solving crimes, heroines with absent fathers and crazy killers with subterranean lairs. Now don't get me wrong, Silence of the Lambs is a great film (although if I had to pick I'd probably rather watch Hannibal, for sheer entertainment value at least) and one that always hooks me in a vice like grip (emotionally speaking) once I start watching it, but if I was forced to pick between the two, Phenomena would come out on top every time. To each their own of course though....

Horror Europa - Giants of Giallo Triple Feature: The Girl Who Knew Too Much (Mario Bava, 1963), Four Flies on Grey Velvet (Dario Argento, 1971) and The New York Ripper (Lucio Fulci, 1982)

 

Sorry for the post-Halloween hiatus people; I was frankly a bit burnt out by the end of that month long blogathon. I thoroughly enjoyed doing it but the days immediately following its end were slightly depressing for some reason. Perhaps it was not knowing where I could possibly go next after the buzz of seeing Halloween on the big screen on the night itself (see previous post for details). Anyway, enough navel gazing for now...let's crack on with today's movie musings...

This inspiration for the majority of this month's posts (well, what's left of it anyway) came from watching Horror Europa, an excellent documentary on the history of European horror cinema that aired just before Halloween. Hosted by the charming and always informative Mark Gatiss (above and below; an accomplished actor and writer, he's also one half of the writing double team that brought us the thoroughly brilliant Sherlock), it took us on a journey starting at the German silents, through to a variety of French, Italian, Spanish and Belgian classics, and ending with (perhaps somewhat controversially) the films of Guillermo del Toro. If you didn't get chance to see it at the time I'd highly recommend seeking it out. 

Aside from making me aware of some huge gaps in my own knowledge of the genre, which I'll be rectifying in the very near feature (especially Spanish productions; to my utter shame, I've barely seen any of their horror films), I also realised that, with a handful of exceptions, I'd mostly neglected Euro Horror during my Halloween blogging spree. So you could consider the coming series of posts as my attempt to make up for this heinous oversight....

Directed by Mario Bava, the Father of Italian horror's holy trinity (we'll also be encountering the Son and Holy Spirit in due course, although I'm not sure who's who exactly), The Girl Who Knew Too Much is generally considered to be the first film instance of a giallo (which is Italian for yellow and refers to the covers of a series of mystery thriller paperbacks, which were popular enough to eventually make the word into a synonym for such suspense narratives). Considering its seismic influence on the movie world (especially the slasher sub-genre, which owes the giallo a huge debt), it's frankly shocking that this movie isn't better known, although come to think of it, you could say that about Mario Bava in general. 

The plot follows one Nora Davis (played by the stunning Leticia Roman), who travels to Rome to visit her sick aunt. Whilst on the plane she's given a pack of cigarettes by the suspiciously eager gentlemen sitting next to her. Upon their arrival he's accosted by the police, who reveal that said cigarettes (which he has a whole suitcase of) are actually laced with good old Mary Jane. Nora, obviously wishing to evade any trouble with the authorities, attempts to ditch her pack of wacky-tobacco, but is soon handed it back by a stranger who assumes she's dropped it mistakenly. To be honest though, she probably shouldn't worry about getting picked up by anyone but the fashion police; she's sporting a frankly hideous snakeskin jacket.

Clearly the lovely lady is some kind of magnet for trouble, as during Nora's first night in Rome her aunt dies (in a wonderfully staged scene that somewhat prefigures the "Drop of Water" episode from Black Sabbath - reviewed here) and, while en route to the hospital to tell Dr. Marcello Bassi (played by genre great John Saxon), she's mugged and knocked unconscious. And to cap it all off, when she eventually comes to, she sees a man pulling a knife out of the back of a woman lying not far from where she herself is sprawled. Fainting from the accumulated shock of it all, she's awoken the next day by a mysterious figure who revives her with booze and then promptly disappears when the police soon show up. She relates what happened to her, but due to the previous night's rain, the lack of a body, and her apparent drunkenness, the authorities simply believe she's imagined the whole thing. 

I'll resist the urge to say much more about the plot. Suffice to say, Nora (with assistance from Dr. Bassi) soon launches into her own investigation to find the killer. Perhaps unsurprisingly, it isn't long before she becomes a target for this mysterious maniac.

As with most gialli, I personally enjoy the film more for its striking cinematography, potent atmosphere and occasional humour than for its narrative. Which is not to say the story is weak, by any means; I just find myself not particularly affected by it on that level. Although to be fair, I'm getting more and more into it with each viewing, which is something that I've found with most of Bava's films. As it turns out, the director himself thought the plot was preposterous, and as a result focused his talents more on the film's technical aspects. 

Along with Bava's directorial debut, Black Sunday (reviewed here), this movie features some of the most gorgeous and inventive black and white photography I've ever seen. One particular sequence that stands out is the scene where Nora visits an abandoned apartment after receiving a mysterious phone call telling her to go there. The combination of sparse white walls and swinging light bulbs makes the lighting shift constantly, creating an almost kaleidoscopic effect that is both disorienting and downright unnerving. You could also say that the shot below prefigures a similar one in Dario Argento's Inferno (1980), which Bava would contribute special effects work to, in his last ever work on a film, before his death that same year...   

...Which brings us rather neatly to our next film, and what's quite possibly my current favourite giallo, Four Flies on Grey Velvet. The concluding part of Argento's animal trilogy, it was originally meant to be the directors last stab, so to speak, at the sub-genre, and from the swaggering, balls-out audacity that it exudes from beginning to end, you can certainly tell. I can see why Deep Red is more celebrated, and, if I'm honest, it's probably a better film (especially in terms of plotting and characterisation). But personally, I always have a lot more fun watching Four Flies. Come to think of it, I'd say the same about the criminally underrated Cat o' Nine Tails (1971), in comparison to the (understandably) more lauded Bird with the Crystal Plumage (1970).     

Roberto Tobias (Michael Brandon) is a drummer in a prog-jazz-rock band. They sound borderline unhinged (especially the singer), but to be fair, this was the early 70s. The film opens with a cheeky drum solo, before kicking into one of their gnarly jam sessions. Roberto's having a hard time concentrating though, seeing as he's being pestered by a persistent fly and also getting spied on by a creepy dude wearing shades who's stood outside. From this opening scene alone, which features some cool POV shots (such as one from inside an acoustic guitar) and cross cutting between the recording session (where Roberto's trying to trap that pesky fly in his hi-hat) and scenes of the drummer getting stalked by his mysterious admirer, Argento shows us that he ain't dicking around. 

After seeing this now seemingly ubiquitous stranger again one night after band practice, Roberto has had enough, and follows him into an empty theatre to find out what the guy wants. After feigning ignorance with regards to accusations of being a stalker, the dude pulls a knife out, leading to a struggle where Roberto ends up stabbing him by accident. Things then take a turn from the extremely unfortunate to the downright bizarre; a spotlight comes on revealing a masked figure who is taking photographs of the incident. 

It isn't long before said photos, and the dead man's identification, appear at Roberto's house, but with no clue as to the masked villain's motives. Do they intend to blackmail him, or simply send him nutty with paranoid speculation? Needless to say, to reveal much more would be giving the game away and spoil the fun for those who haven't seen the film...

Feeling understandably isolated, Roberto soon confides in his wife Nina (played by Italian horror favourite Mimsy Farmer), and his mate Godfrey (Bud Spencer), who's affectionately referred to as God and is introduced with the most unexpected, brief, yet awesome music cue ever; a group of choral singers belt out a couple of rousing "Hallelujah"s before quickly disappearing, never to be heard from again. Can I get an amen? Other wonderful supporting characters include the flamboyant private detective Arrosio (Jean-Pierre Marielle ), who is undoubtedly my favourite of Argento's stereotypical gay characters, and an obviously underpaid postman (Gildo Di Marco), who suffers the indignity of first being chewed out by an angry lady who is being delivered someone else's porno mags, and then later being assaulted by Roberto, who assumes that he's the masked maniac who's harassing him.

The film isn't without its occasional flaws, and there's a couple of scenes and characters I can take or leave, but this is as close to a perfect giallo as I've seen so far (although admittedly I'm far from a connoisseur of the sub-genre; there's still truckloads of them I haven't watched yet), and like the man says, great films are rarely perfect anyway. Nitpicking aside, the movie contains many brilliantly staged set-pieces, including some show-stopping uses of slow-motion photography (in fact you could say that one cheeky shot - no pun intended - almost anticipates The Matrix, 28 years before its release); sublime cinematography from Franco Di Giacomo (I especially like Roberto's trippy, starkly lit, recurring dream sequences, showing a beheading in a Middle-Eastern country; they provide a striking contrast to the moody, almost noirish vibe of the film's many nighttime scenes) and a superlative score from Ennio Morricone, that veers between the operatic and the avant-garde. 

I think it's fair to say that you could probably recommend Four Flies on Grey Velvet to someone who's into mysteries and thrillers but has yet to experience the weird and wonderful world of the giallo, where as I somewhat doubt the same could be said about Lucio Fulci's The New York Ripper. In fact, a good majority of the director's filmography tends to be highly polarising, and as a result, something of an acquired taste; in others words, people tend to either love him or hate him, often with equal fervor. 

I first had the pleasure of encountering this notorious, and frankly misunderstood movie in the wee hours a few years back. I'd just got back from a screening of Sergio Martino's Torso (1973) at the excellent Continental pub in Preston, Lancashire, which is where I'm from. Unfortunately, such events are all too rare in my neck of the woods, as Preston isn't exactly the most cosmopolitan of cities, so I jumped at the chance to attend and check out a film I hadn't yet seen. The screening was hosted by Shameless Screen Entertainment, who are responsible for bringing many gialli and cult Euro gems onto DVD in the UK (you can check out their website here; as a side note, I'd highly recommend their Blu Ray release of Four Flies). That night they were giving away a copy of their then unreleased 'Fulci's Box of Terror', which contained The New York Ripper, The Black Cat and Manhattan Baby (you can see my reviews of the latter two here and here). I was lucky enough to have the winning raffle ticket, so decided to give Fulci's infamous flick a look when I got home late that night, considerably shit-faced. I'd say that watching the also somewhat lurid Torso earlier that evening set me up quite nicely for what I was about to experience...     

Lieutenant Fred Williams (Jack Hedley - above) is a world weary cop hunting a vicious psychopath who has a predilection for stalking unwary ladies before literally tearing them a new one. For some reason (besides obviously trying to mask his identity) he's also adopted a singularly bizarre vocal affectation; that is, he talks like Donald fucking Duck (in a possible reference to Fulci's 1972 masterpiece Don't Torture a Duckling; if memory serves, an identical duck toy appears in both films). He's later assisted by the relatively young, but brilliant psychotherapy professor Dr. Paul Davis (played by Paolo Malco, from what's possibly my favourite Fulci movie, 1981's The House by the Cemetery), whose hobbies include playing chess and perusing the odd gay porno mag; apparently when he's not attempting to expand his brain he's busy stretching other muscles...      

Yet again, I won't say any more than that with regards to the plot, as it's best to let the uninitiated watch it unfold for themselves. The film is extremely well cast, with all of the players providing excellent performances. It's stylishly shot by Luigi Kuveiller (who also did sterling work on Argento's Deep Red) and tightly spliced together by Fulci regular Vincenzo Tomassi, whose taut editing further heightens the visceral punch of the film's graphic violence. The score, by Francesco De Masi, is also pretty cool, featuring jazzy atmospherics, a piece that is almost Morricone-esque in its haunting melancholy, and a downright funky theme tune that makes me think that Lt. Williams and Dr. Davis should really have been given their own TV series, where they go round solving new crimes every week. Fulci himself also shows up in an obligatory cameo as the chief of police, giving our grizzled detective a stern telling off for informing the press about the killer on the loose.  

The film's contents are undeniably shocking and, needless to say, it's not one for the squeamish, but nonetheless, it continues to be unfairly maligned to this day, often by reactionary critics who are either unable, or perhaps simply unwilling, to see past the surface splatter and appreciate the subtleties that lie beneath. Like Bava and Argento, Fulci was a director with a lot going on upstairs, working in a generally ghettoised genre (although all three have produced work in others as well) of a medium which rarely aspires to be much more than entertainment; but all of them were united in their abilities to frequently infuse their films with consistent style, often sly humour, and the kind of challenging, thought provoking sub-textual material more usually associated with more "respectable" (i.e. well-established) mediums such as literature and opera. I'm not saying you need to take any of these three films that seriously to appreciate them, by any means; I just wish to point out that there's more to them than just style and titillation, not that there's anything bad about those things. I mean, what the hell's wrong with entertainment for its own sake anyway? All of which is a very long-winded way of saying that all three of these giallo gems can be enjoyed on multiple levels; so if you haven't seen them, and enjoy your cinematic thrills and spills, then check them out; and if you have, then watch 'em again, or else!