giallo

THE FLICKS: Although not packaged as such, the latest four releases from cult DVD studio Blue Underground serve as a sort of second Giallo Collection (the first released in 2002 through now rival studio Anchor Bay), comprised of some superior examples of the Italian murder-mystery genre presented in their usual flawless fashion. But in addition to the expected blood, boobs and (in a few cases) bad dubbing, this next wave also hides one of the most spectacularly photographed entries the genre has ever seen! The Fifth Cord (1971) is certainly not one of Vittorio Storaro’s better known films (the famous director of photography lensed Apocalypse Now, Bird with the Crystal Plumage and the recent made-for-TV Dune remakes), but it is just as visually striking as his best work. Playing off a familiar theme of light and shadow – as he did on Bertolucci’s The Conformist – Storaro literally slices the screen with harsh key lights and clever compositions that scream for film school analysis! It’s so good, it’s hard to believe The Fifth Cord hasn’t been singled out earlier. Storaro’s collaboration with director Luigi Bazzoni and actor Franco Nero is a reunion of sorts, as the trio had previously worked on a series of Italian documentaries and shorts. And their fluency with one another shows as The Fifth Cord turns a rather ordinary killer-on-the-loose plot into a series of set-piece stalkings, culminating in a terrifying attack on a 4-year-old boy left alone in a house. Nero gets to play both victim and suspect as an alcoholic journalist who must solve the mysterious murders before ending up in jail or ending up dead. While foregoing any excessive gore or nudity, Bazzoni ups the ante on Argento by applying both a fabulous visual style and a story that makes sense. The Fifth Cord is an absolute essential for any film aficionado, not just genre fanboys. The Forbidden Photos of a Lady Above Suspicion (1970) is the first giallo in a pseudo-trilogy from director/producer Luciano Ercoli (the others were recently released on DVD by NoShame), all of which feature his wife/girlfriend Susan Scott in a variety of roles and hairstyles. Although here, lovely Dagmar Lassander takes on the title role as a pill-popping housewife who is blackmailed into sleeping with a stranger in order to protect her husband’s reputation. But the extortion doesn’t stop as photos pop up with our lady in a number of comprising positions. Ercoli’s films are never content with such simplicity however, and the plot spins into a series of double and triple-crosses as our housewife’s sanity is brought into question. We all know there’ll be a twist, it just depends how much you enjoyed be strung along. Photos is relatively tame despite the subject matter (and the suggestion of some brutal lovemaking presented in flashback to get around the censors), in keeping with Ercoli’s usual focus on plot above pure exploitation. But there’s something irresistible about its combination of neo-gothic Agatha Christie machinations and more contemporary merits. It does take a good amount of time to get up to speed, however. In the meantime, amuse yourself by counting how many times the characters fix themselves a drink (I’ve seen a more sober headcount at a Friday night frat party!). The Black Belly of the Tarantula (1971) is a film that doesn’t fight the formula, it embraces the giallo elements from frame one, starting with a full-on nude body massage accompanied by a suitably breathy music track by Ennio Morricone (who also provided the score on both Photos and The Fifth Cord). Featuring no less than three Bond girls (Barbara Bach, Claudine Auger and Barbara Bouchet), Tarantula isn’t afraid to show some skin, but neither is it as simple-minded as the gialli that would come after it, in great measure due to Giancarlo Giannini’s performance as a reticent police inspector assigned to the case in which several women have been paralyzed (via acupuncture) then butchered while still conscious. If it wasn’t for the sheer visual genius of The Fifth Cord, Tarantula would easily be the best of the bunch. Director Peolo Cavara employs a strong sense of style and punctuates the loopy plot (there’s no way to figure out the real killer other than a wild guess) with some truly memorable murder sequences. The image of the foot-long needle being inserted into each victim’s neck is genuinely unsettling and Cavara milks it for all it’s worth. There’s even a fist-clencher of a finale that’s cross-cut similar to Silence of the Lambs. Damn fine filmmaking! Somewhat out of place is The Pyjama Girl Case (1977) which, although it’s centered around a vicious murder mystery, doesn’t fit the giallo definition as we know it. (Which is fine...remember, these films are released separately and do not constitute any official collection...that’s just my obsessive-compulsive organizational tendencies kicking in). Based on an actual Australian police case in the 30’s, Ray Milland gets top billing as a retired detective digging up dirt on a Jane Doe found shot, beaten and burned on a public beach. Other than a pair of tattered pajamas, the body offers few clues. With no forewarning, the film chooses to follow the Pyjama Girl and the investigators of her death concurrently, flipping between the two stories which are separated by weeks or months. The idea works eventually, but the first half hour can lead to absolute confusion as our rather slutty victim jumps from bed to bed with little explanation. Subsequently the investigatory efforts of Ray Milland provide the narrative flow of the film until a plot twist reverses things at the start of the third act. And the aging actor delivers an enjoyable grumpy performance, which was also one of his last. Director Flavio Mogherini’s film is far from an undiscovered masterpiece, although two moments in particular (the public parade in front of the Pyjama Girl’s preserved body and an uncomfortable sex scene just hours before her death) stand out from the genre crowd. It’s better described as an anomaly, both in style, approach and location, having been shot in the story’s native Australia. But some atrocious dubbing reminds us its roots will always be in Italy! THE FEATURES: First things first, the transfers are delish; the kind of dirt-free, high-contrast, boldly-colorful images you’d expect from films half their collective age. But BU has seen fit to include a few perks on each release as well. The Fifth Cord includes a 15-minute featurette entitled Black Days with Franco Nero and Vittorio Storaro providing comments on their partnership. Storaro’s insight into the thematic reasons behind his photography is particularly interesting. And then there’s a trailer. On Photos, an 8-minute or so interview with co-writer Ernesto Gastaldi allows him to explain the formula for writing gialli (no big secret...keep things vague and let the director spice it up). And then there’s a trailer. Black Belly of the Tarantula includes a sit down with Lorenzo Danon (son of producer Marcello Danon) who details the history of his father’s career and an amusing anecdote about a nude introduction to his leading lady. And then there’s a trailer. With some real life history behind it, The Pyjama Girl Case gets a bit more by way of extras. A 30-minute documentary featuring author Richard Evans relates the history of the case with some great photographs and film footage of the actual events. Also, a re-telling of the mystery in comic-book form is included in the package. And then, you guessed, there’s a trailer.