case of the bloody iris

THE FLICKS: The giallo might have officially begun in 1970 with Argento’s The Bird with the Crystal Plumage, but it was perfected over the next decade by innumerable directors who never got much credit. Blue Underground does their part by re-releasing the films included in Anchor Bay’s previous Giallo Collection as stand-alone titles: Short Night of Glass Dolls, Who Saw Her Die, The Case of the Bloody Iris and The Bloodstained Shadow. Which ones are worth adding to your crowded collection? Well, three outta four ain’t bad. Just a year after Argento’s groundbreaking work, director Aldo Lado tried to up the ante with his politically-minded thriller, Short Night of Glass Dolls (1971). Featuring a fair share of recognizable stars (Jean Sorel, Ingrid Thulin and Barbara Bach), some jazzy stylistic touches and an Ennio Morricone score, the film is a direct reflection of Lado’s enthusiasm as a first-time filmmaker. The raw ingredients are nothing special – Bach disappears without a trace, Sorel tracks her down amidst a crowd of likely suspects – but the director uses a clever flashback technique to tell the story, with our main character drugged but alive on an autopsy table. As with many gialli, there’s sense trying to solve the mystery until the credits roll. And even then we’re frequently left with a confusing pile of motivations and red herrings. But Lado saves the most startling revelations for last – namely an extended orgy sequence featuring the elderly residents of a rest home – and adds some political commentary unique to the genre. It’s a heck of a debut and sets the stage for better work to come. Some of which you’ll find it Who Saw Her Die (1972), Lado’s next film which again deals with an unexplained disappearance; this time the young daughter of Venice artisan (the one-time James Bond, George Lazenby, looking impossibly skinny) who’s stalked by a veiled murderer somewhere in the back alleys of the labyrinthine city. The first 45-minutes of so of the film is not to be missed, ranking right up there with the best Italy ever produced. Lado creates a palpable sense of dread out of innocent images like a child’s game of ring-around-the-rosie, accompanied by another unforgettable Morricone score utilizing a children’s choir. The similarities between this film and Nicolas Roeg’s Don’t Look Now are more than coincidental; they’re downright disconcerting (Lado’s film was produced a year earlier, in case you’re wondering). And as brilliant a cinematographer as Roeg was, Lado’s work has an edge in capturing the “real” underbelly of Venice, from the shadowy cul-de-sacs to the blue-collar docks. Who Saw Her Die becomes tedious however during Lazenby’s rather routine investigation, culminating in a tired Psycho-inspired ending that comes out of left field. Worthy buying though just for that inspired first-half. The Case of the Bloody Iris (1972) is probably the best all-around film in the bunch. Although director Anthony Ascott doesn’t have Lado’s style, his story (by screenwriter Ernesto Gastaldi) is the most well-rounded and features a knock-out performance from everyone’s favorite Euro-star Edwige Fenech. Yet another masked / gloved killer is on the prowl, targeting the residents of a particular apartment building designed by a local architect (George Hilton). Is it Fenech’s crazed ex-husband, the leader of a hippie sex cult? The haughty lesbian next door? Or the charming architect himself who can’t stand the sight of blood? Unlike most of the genre, The Case of the Bloody Iris actually works as a stand-alone mystery. There’s the requisite nudity and gore, but there’s also a nice bit of comic relief and realistic cause-and-effect. Ascott peppers the film with a liberal amount of exploitation elements but manages to maintain his dignity, along with that of Fenech who’s never looked better in a painted on T-shirt. Previously available only as part of the Giallo Collection, it’s great to be able to cherry-pick this top tier title. Too bad the same can’t be said of The Bloodstained Shadow (1978), which came about during the genre’s eventual decline, incorporating all the conventions of the giallo style but never developing a style of its own. There are shades of Argento at its core – the witness to a murder who never saw the killer’s face – but the characters are bland and director Antonio Bido adds no visual excitement. What we’re left with is a film that goes through its paces with no real sense of danger, other than probably the first and last “accordion scare” in cinematic history. Listen close to the Stelvio Cipriani score, however, and you’ll hear the theme music Blue Underground lifted for their opening logo treatment. Still, if you must leave one title off your shopping list, here’s where to make the cut. THE FEATURES: To the best of my knowledge each title is a direct port of the Anchor Bay originals, which are now out of print. Still, the transfers stand up quite well, with minimal print damage and a good amount of extras tacked as a bonus. Here’s how it’s laid out: Short Night of Glass Dolls: Aldo Lado interview touching on how his directing debut came about, the casting process and his trouble with the censors. Also includes a filmography and theatrical trailer. Who Saw Her Die: Yet another Aldo Lado interview, this time focused on filming in his hometown of Venice and the casting of Lazenby. And, yes, there’s a theatrical trailer. The Case of the Bloody Iris: Not much here other than an alternate stabbing scene, trailer and Anthony Ascott filmography. The Bloodstained Shadow: Interview with Antonio Bido who goes into the soundtrack controversy (apparently Goblin made a significant contribution) and gets in a few more Argento references. Bido’s filmography and the theatrical trailer are also included.