Ennio Morricone’s My Dear Killer OST

by Kimberly Lindbergs | October 21, 2009

Categories | News, Soundtracks, Composers, Giallo, Ennio Morricone, George Hilton

George Hilton in My Dear Killer aka Mio Caro Assassino (1972)

This month Digitmovies is scheduled to release Ennio Morricone’s incredible score for the excellent giallo thriller My Dear Killer aka Mio Caro Assassino (1972). This will be the 9th volume from Italy’s Digitmovies devoted to the original soundtrack recordings of Ennio Morricone and if it’s as good as their previous releases Morricone fans are in for a real treat!

My Dear Killer happens to be one of my favorite giallo films and it was directed by Tonino Valerii who made some great Italian westerns such as My Name is Nobody (1973), but he is probably best known for his work as an assistant director to Sergio Leone during the making of A Fistful of Dollars (1964) and For a Few Dollars More (1965). My Dear Killer was Tonino Valerii’s only giallo film but it’s a smart, creative and surprising thriller that offered its talented star (George Hilton) one of his best roles. In the film Hilton plays a police inspector trying to solve a gruesome series of crimes that may or may not be connected to the kidnapping and murder of a young girl that took place years earlier. Besides George Hilton’s standout performance as Inspector Luca Peretti, My Dear Killer also features one of Ennio Morricone’s most creepy and effective scores.

A few of the tracks from Morricone’s soundtrack for My Dear Killer have been released before on compilation CDs, but the upcoming Digitmovies CD will mark the first time that Morricone’s complete score for My Dear Killer has been made available in any form.

This impressive soundtrack includes haunting vocals provided by the brilliant Edda Dell’Orso who worked closely with the composer on many of his best film scores. All together the CD contains a total of 17 remastered tracks and it’s available just in time for Halloween. If you’re a Morricone fan or just enjoy genuinely eerie film soundtracks you’re definitely going to want to pick up a copy of the My Dear Killer OST.

You can currently purchase new and used copies of the soundtrack for My Dear Killer aka Mio Caro Assassino at Amazon. At the moment these CDs are a little hard to come by since they’re imported from Italy but Digitmovies is still in the process of shipping out orders so check back at Amazon often.

The film is also available on DVD from Amazon and you should be able to rent it at Netflix.com or Greencine.com

I’ve posted the trailer for My Dear Killer aka Mio Caro Assassino below since it also features samples of Ennio Morricone’s score, but if you’ve never seen the movie before you might want to avoid watching it. It’s a great clip (not exactly work safe) but it also happens to be one of the most spoiler filled trailers I’ve ever seen.

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March Madness

by Kimberly Lindbergs | March 7, 2009

Categories | Horror, Giallo, Italian Cinema, Blogathons, Lucio Fulci

Over at The Destructible Man blog an impromptu blogathon has started simply called Destructible Blog-a-thon.1.

The gory details:
We want everybody to bundle up, dig deep into the recesses of their consciousness, fiddle about a bit and then go over to your laptops by the fireplace and post about the cinematic ANIMAL dummy death that you covet the most!

I didn’t have to dig too deep to remember the dummy animal deaths featured in Lucio Fulci’s A Lizard in a Woman’s Skin (aka Una Lucertola con la pelle di donna, 1971). As I’ve mentioned previously, A Lizard in a Woman’s Skin is one of my favorite horror films (as well as on of my favorite giallo films) and it also happens to be my favorite Lucio Fulci movie. It’s easy to find copies of the film on DVD now, but for years it was nearly impossible to see an uncut version of A Lizard in a Women’s Skin due to the movie’s erotic content and one of the most brutally imagined vivisection scenes ever captured on film. The scene was so graphic and believable that it reportedly landed Fulci in hot water with Italian authorities. Special effects artist Carlo Rambaldi was even forced to present the fake dog props used in the film in court to save the director from a possible two-year prison term.

tube down the neck
flesh pulled back
to crawl underneath the skin
the corporate death no sentiment
the pain sustained at will
they preach on high morals lie
in this farce called vivisection
- song lyrics from “Ode to Groovy” by Skinny Puppy

Before making horror films, Lucio Fulci studied medicine and this experience colored his work and lent it an edgy realism that many viewers find incredibly disturbing. As a young medical student Fulci was undoubtedly familiar with vivisection practices and his choice to introduce them into his horror film as an element of terror is both surprising and enlightening. This personal aspect of Fulci’s work is often overlooked by critics who have trouble sifting through the unexpected emotional depths found in many of the director’s best films.

The graphic nature of the faux animal vivisection in A Lizard in a Woman’s Skin is shocking, but I think it’s made more unsettling by the way the director places it into his film. The particular scene in question begins when Carol (played brilliantly by the gorgeous and talented Florinda Bolkan) awakens from a nap she’s just had on the lawn of a psychiatric hospital. Carol’s a murder suspect and a sexually frustrated wife who’s been sent to the hospital to get some rest, but her troubled imagination is working overtime. Lucio Fulci used many creative camera techniques and directing tricks to give his film a haunting dreamlike atmosphere. The director clearly enjoys playing with Freudian dream imagery so the audience is never quite sure what’s real and unreal throughout the course of A Lizard in a Woman’s Skin.

Waking from her nap, Carol has no idea how much time has passed. She looks around the hospital grounds which are strangely silent and empty. A feeling of dread seems to come over her and she’s suddenly startled when she spots a gentleman watching her from the nearby bushes.

She begins to run towards the hospital, but many of the entry ways are blocked.
Carol is running from her past as well as her fears.

When Carol gets inside the hospital she’s greeted by twisting spiral staircases and stark white hallways that seem to go on forever. This Escher-like landscape is a reflection of Carol’s inner turmoil.

She finally finds an open door and steps inside, but the room engulfs her in darkness. This is not the escape Carol or the audience was expecting. As she makes her way through the gloom a light suddenly illuminates the shadow of a human hand behind a curtain. It appears to be holding a pair of sharp scissors. In this brief ode to Hitchcock, Fulci playfully hints at many of his film’s own themes.

Carol experiences a new level of horror after seeing the menacing shadow, but Fulci’s camera suddenly cuts to a doctor’s table carrying various medical instruments. There is no mad killer behind the curtain. Instead we find only a doctor and his tools. What is the threat now? Where is the terror coming from? Why should we fear the doctors?

She continues to run through the hospital before finally reaching another unlocked door and opening it. This time the light within the room illuminates Carol instead of hiding her in shadows. As Fulci zooms in on Carol, her face becomes a mask of terror.

The audience is suddenly shocked by the same revolting images of vivisection that terrified Carol. The dogs are not dead, but they are slowly dying and Carol’s face registers exactly what the audience is expected to be feeling at that moment. As the dogs whimper and twist in agony from the torture they’re suffering at the hands of medical men, Carol’s face becomes a reflection of our own horror and our own fears.

Suddenly Carol is overcome by the terrible site before her and she collapses. Beneath her crumpled body the ground is colored a deep shade of red that resembles spilled blood. The scene ends where it began, in dreams. Dark and troubling dreams.

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The Devil with Seven Faces (1971)

by Kimberly Lindbergs | October 9, 2008

Categories | Movie Reviews, Giallo, Italian Cinema, Crime, Thrillers, George Hilton, Carroll Baker

Top: Carroll Baker has just seen the final cut of The Devil with Seven Faces (1971)
Bottom: Even a cheap gorilla mask couldn’t make the movie any better.

Normally I neglect to write anything about movies I dislike. I never have enough time to write about all the films I like so why waste my time writing about films I don’t? But occasionally my disappointment in a film runs so deep that I feel the need to save others from suffering what I’ve just endured. This is one of those times.

I had high expectations for director Osvaldo Civirani’s 1971 thriller The Devil with Seven Faces (aka Il Diavolo a sette facce) when I stuck it into my DVD player. The film stars two of my favorite actors, the lovely American actress Carroll Baker along with the talented George Hilton. Stephen Boyd also has a major role in the film along with the always entertaining Luciano “the Italian Peter Lorre” Pigozzi, genre favorite Daniele Vargas and the cute Lucretia Love. The script for The Devil with Seven Faces was co-written by Tito Carpi who also co-wrote a lot of good spaghetti westerns such as Fistful of Lead (1970), Any Gun Can Play (1967) and Django Shoots First (1968). And last but not least, the film features a score by two of my favorite composers; the amazing Stelvio Cipriani and Nora Orlandi.

Top: George Hilton and Carroll Baker feign interest in one another.
Bottom: Luciano Pigozzi channels Peter Lorre.

The convoluted plot of The Devil with Seven Faces involves a diamond heist that goes wrong, some conniving twin sisters (played unconvincingly by Carroll Baker) and a large batch of bad guys who stumble all over themselves trying to get to Carroll Baker and the million dollar diamond. For some reason a lot of reviewers insist on calling The Devil with Seven Faces a “giallo” film and as far as I can tell, it’s not. Contrary to many critical opinions, I don’t believe that one mysterious corpse and a long irrelevant title with the word “devil” in it suddenly turns any Italian movie into a giallo film. The Devil with Seven Faces seems to simply be an original crime movie written by Tito Carpi and director Osvaldo Civirani without any literary basis. Or to be more exact; it’s a “heist film” in the same tradition as countless other European heist films I’ve seen. I love a good heist film but unfortunately The Devil with Seven Faces is not good.

Osvaldo Civirani’s direction is completely uninspired and hampered by Walter Civirani’s lackluster photography. Mauro Contini’s sloppy editing also doesn’t do the film any favors. The Devil with Seven Faces totally lacks suspense and even the car chases and shoot-outs managed to be uninteresting. The mild sex scenes seemed forced and were extremely ineffective, which is a shame considering they involved Carroll Baker and George Hilton. Unfortunately the terrific cast, wonderful score and a potentially worthwhile script could not save this poorly constructed film. I get no joy from saying that The Devil with Seven Faces is one of the worst films I’ve seen all year. I really wanted to enjoy this movie but it let me down again and again. It’s possible that an uncut version of the film exists that is somehow better than the version I watched, but I have no desire to revisit the movie if a new print does surface. There are only three reasons I watched all 90 minutes of The Devil with Seven Faces so I thought I’d at least make mention of them.

George Hilton’s character in The Devil with Seven Faces is underwritten and he doesn’t seem to get as much screen-time as his costars. But unlike Carroll Baker who seems to be sleepwalking through the entire movie, and Stephen Boyd who comes across as rather sleazy and unappealing here; Hilton at least seems to be trying to make the most of his role. He also looks terrific in his ’70s style fashions. Hilton’s wardrobe consists of lots of great looking racing jackets and expensive sunglasses. A sharp dressed man will often keep my attention in a lackluster film, especially if that man happens to be someone like George Hilton. And last but not least, Hilton’s multiple death scenes in The Devil with Seven Faces are the highlights of the movie.

The soundtrack for The Devil with Seven Faces was so good that it actually managed to elevate the film at times and made me forget how completely dull it was. Stelvio Cipriani composed the music and Nora Orlandi adds lots of lush vocalisms to just about every track. Their work together on The Devil with Seven Faces is truly fantastic and I’d love to get a copy of the entire soundtrack. I’m sure I have bits and pieces of the music on one or two of the library compilations I own but the score really deserves to be heard in its entirety.

One of the great things about European thrillers and crime films made during the ’60s and early ’70s is the fashions, hairstyles and modern design that can often make a potentially dull film much more interesting. Unfortunately The Devil with Seven Faces is sorely lacking in all these things. Even when the cast was wearing something that caught my eye, the horrible photography and direction usually made the fashions almost impossible to fully see. Most of the film seemed to be shot from the waist up or the waist down and it was littered with pointless close-ups that didn’t compliment anyone. Thankfully Carroll Baker and Lucretia Love had lots of unnecessary wig changes that managed to keep me entertained. I’ve seen a lot of bad wigs used in films before, but Carroll Baker’s ill-fitting bright blue fright wig and Lucretia Love’s messy red Ronald McDonald wig absolutely floored me. What in the world was hair stylist Iolanda Conti (aka Jolanda Conti) thinking? I do commend Steven Boyd for somehow keeping a straight face during the scenes where he was forced to appear opposite “the wigs.”

Top: Steven Boyd showing off his acting chops.
Bottom: Daniele Vargas was so bored on the set that he started looking at porn to pass the time.

I truly wish I had more positive things to say about The Devil with Seven Faces, but unless you happen to be a George Hilton or Carroll Baker completist like myself, a huge fan of Stelvio Cipriani and Nora Orlandi’s scores or just curious to see some of the worst wigs imaginable, then I can’t encourage you to spend 90 minutes with this movie. If you do decide to watch The Devil with Seven Faces I recommend doing so with a good bottle of wine by your side.

The Devil with Seven Faces is available on DVD from Alpha Home Entertainment and it’s currently selling for the appropriately low price of $7.98 at Amazon.

If you’d like to see more images from the film please see my Flickr Gallery for The Devil with Seven Faces.

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Scream… and Die! (1973)

by Kimberly Lindbergs | January 11, 2008

Categories | Movie Reviews, Horror, Giallo, Spanish Cinema, Alfred Hitchcock, Thrillers

Despite its somewhat misleading title, Scream… and Die! (1973) this interesting film directed by José Ramón Larraz is well worth a look if you enjoy unusual European thrillers. Larraz is a talented Spanish director who’s mostly known by American film audiences as the man behind the erotic horror film Vampyres (1974) and only a few of his other films are easily accessible on DVD and video in the U.S. His 1973 feature Scream… and Die! has been available on video since the ‘80s, but it was recently released by Jef films on DVD.

Larraz’s films tend to generate strong reactions from their detractors and fans. The director enjoys playing with genre expectations and the eroticism and violence in his movies can be explicit, but if you’re willing to give Larraz the benefit of the doubt and go into his films without any preconceptions, you might be surprised by what you find there. One of Larraz’s strong points is his ability to mix complex and adult story elements into his horror films that can also be enjoyed simply for their entertainment value. His early movies like Scream… and Die! are also extremely stylish and creatively shot, especially when you factor in the low budget he was usually working with. Larraz was definitely one of the most interesting directors to come out of Spain in the seventies. His film Symptoms was nominated for a Golden Palm at Cannes in 1974 and he has many fans now thanks to books that celebrate his work like Pete Tombs and Cathal Tohill ’s Immoral Tales: European Sex & Horror Movies 1956-1984 (1995), but even among Larraz’ fans Scream… and Die! is often considered one of the director’s lesser films.

Scream… and Die! features the beautiful British actress Andrea Allan as an aspiring model named Valerie who’s dating a rather seedy fellow named Terry (Alex Leppard). One foggy night Valerie finds herself alone with Terry in the English countryside when he decides to loot an old estate hidden away deep in the woods. The couple finds more than they bargained for after the home’s owner unexpectedly arrives at the house with a female guest. Valerie and Terry slip inside a closet and from their hiding place they watch a strange sexual encounter unfold between the homeowner and a woman that suddenly turns deadly. After witnessing the brutal murder of the woman, Valerie flees the crime scene and runs out of the house. When she realizes she’s being chased by the killer she stumbles into the woods and finally finds herself in an old junkyard where she hides in an abandoned car until morning comes. Once the sun rises Valerie hitches a ride back into town without Terry.

At home Valerie is left to contemplate the situation that she’s found herself when she suddenly realizes the killer has returned Terry’s car and parked it outside her flat. Inside the car is Valerie’s modeling portfolio, which is missing a photo. It’s clear that the killer not only knows who Valerie is, but he also knows where she lives and he’s apparently stalking her. Unfortunately for Valerie she was never able to get a good look at the killer so his identity is a mystery. After consulting with friends about the horrible situation she’s found herself in, they tell her not to worry and warn her to be weary of going to the police since she could also be charged with a crime. They’re convinced that Terry must be involved in the bizarre events somehow and they offer to take Valerie back to the house where the murder took place, but in a strange turn of events she’s unable to locate it again. Like a bizarre dream, the killer and the crime scene seem to have vanished into thin air leaving Valerie confused and troubled.

The story takes another odd turn when Valerie meets a charming young man named Paul (Karl Lanchbury) selling Japanese-style Noh masks he designed at the photography studio where she works. Paul immediately takes an interest in Valerie and she’s instantly drawn to him as well. They quickly start up a romantic relationship, which seems to bother Paul’s Aunt who he lives and works with. As the film progresses it becomes clear that Paul and his Aunt are involved in a troubling, incestuous relationship and the masks they make together seem to hide a deeper mystery.

In the meantime an unusual bearded man has moved into the first-floor flat of Valerie’s building. He’s a pigeon keeper and the birds he cares for are keeping Valerie awake at night and affecting her dreams. When Valerie’s roommate returns from a trip to Europe and is suddenly murdered, Valerie can no longer temper her fears and she’s forced to deal with the police and tell them everything that has happened. Her bohemian friends, the photographer she models for, the young mask maker and the pigeon keeper all become possible suspects, but most viewers will immediately know who the killer is.

Scream and Die! has many elements of classic gialli films such as a killer who wears black leather gloves and multiple red herrings, but I don’t think the director was very interested in the mystery aspects of his film. José Ramón Larraz’s approach to the material seems to confuse audiences who expect Scream and Die! to be a typical European thriller. Instead, Larraz offers observant audiences plenty of visual and verbal clues as to who the murderer is early on in the movie. Larraz has never seemed to care much for straightforward narratives so there’s no reason to expect typical storytelling here. It’s obvious the director is much more intent on exploring various themes about voyeurism and identity with Scream… and Die! instead of offering up simple thrills.

The film is filled with many telling visual motifs, including countless shots of people peering through windows and cameras that bring to mind Hitchcock’s Rear Window (1954). As a model, Valerie is constantly the subject of voyeurism from the photographer who takes her photos, the audience who watches her primp and pose and finally the director himself. Larraz clearly enjoys photographing his star and his camera spends a lot of time focused on her. As we watch her undress, take baths and simply drink a cup of coffee in her flat, it’s almost impossible to not feel like a “peeping Tom” yourself while watching the film. Like Rear Window, an obvious streak of paranoia also runs through Scream… and Die!. Early in the film Valerie questions if she really witnessed a murder and as the film progresses she becomes more and more weary of everyone around her.

Many critics complain about the nudity in Lazrraz’s films and Scream… and Die! does contain nudity, but I personally don’t find it gratuitous at all. As I mentioned above, Larraz’s camera clearly enjoys photographing the film’s female star Andrea Allan, but her casual nudity in the movie is never very explicit and the mildly graphic sex scene in the film is more disturbing than erotic in my opinion. The scene in question has gotten a somewhat notorious reputation over the years when it’s mentioned in various horror books and publications and has even been called “Larraz’s most explicit sojourn into sordid sexual depths.” It involves the charming young mask maker Paul and his much older Aunt in a passionate, but deeply troubling sexual encounter. As I mentioned above, it’s clear that they’re relationship is incestuous and the sex scene perfectly conveys the domineering sexual power that Paul’s’ Aunt has over him.

Paul is played wonderfully by the talented British actor Karl Lanchbury who was a regular in some of Larraz’s early films including Whirlpool (1970), Deviation (1971) and Vampyres (1974). He’s really terrific in Scream… and Die! but he isn’t given enough to do in the film, even though he makes the most of his limited screen time. I wish the director had used Karl Lanchbury more, but Larraz always appeared more interested in his female stars and the male actors in his films are often given secondary roles. Andrea Allan is also very good as Valerie, but she’s a little too reserved at times and doesn’t always seem fully committed to her role.

The film credits make it easy for audiences to assume that Scream… and Die! is a British production, but the movie was actually a Spanish/British co-production. Larraz shot most of the film in Britain, but some of it was also shot in Spain. The director seemed to really enjoy making films in England and many of his best movies make great use of the British countryside and isolated country estates, which lends them a gothic atmosphere.

The script for Scream… and Die! was written by Derek Ford who often worked with the talented horror director Robert Hartford-Davis in the sixties. Ford was also a director in his own right and he made many British sexploitation films in the seventies before and after working on Scream… and Die! This film is definitely different from Ford’s other work and I’m sure that Larraz must have been involved in the writing as well as the direction of the film. One aspect of Scream… and Die! that I really enjoy is the creepy soundtrack by composer Terry Warr, which adds considerable depth and an eerie mood to the film. Warr had worked with Derek Ford before on some sex comedies, but surprisingly this seems to be the first and last time he ever composed music for a horror film.

I wish I could recommend the new Jef DVD of Scream… and Die! but it appears to be a copy of the old video transfer. The film is extremely dark and it’s hard to make out what’s happening sometimes, which can be a little confusing. Hopefully a company like Severin will release Scream… and Die! on DVD in the future. I would love to see a restored widescreen print of the movie made available.

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The Painter of Agonies

by Kimberly Lindbergs | October 16, 2007

Categories | Movie Reviews, Directors, Horror, Giallo, Italian Cinema, Pupi Avati

Above: Pupi Avati

At this time of the year it seems like every film critic suddenly becomes an expert on horror films and starts publishing their quickly put together “Top 10 Scary Movie Moments” or “Best Films to Watch on Halloween.” These lists are often compiled by people who’ve seen a limited amount of films and their horror selections are often tired and stale. Does anyone really still need to be told that a Criterion DVD release like Carnival of Souls is worth watching? Or horror classics like Hitchcock’s Psycho and Romero’s Night of the Living Dead are “must see” movies? With that complaint out of the way, I’d like to bring your attention to the name of one director who really deserves a lot more attention, and that is Pupi Avati.

Unfortunately the name Pupi Avati tends to elicit chuckles instead of respect, which is a shame. Avati created some of the most fascinating and chilling horror films to ever come out of Italy during the seventies and eighties, and he’s worked with many well-known Italian filmmakers such as Pier Paolo Pasolini, Lucio Fulci and Lamberto Bava.

As a director Avati has never stuck to one film genre. Besides horror films he’s made musicals, comedies and romances. I’m sure that’s one reason why his films are often overlooked by horror fans, who tend to favor directors that work almost exclusively in the horror genre. Another reason Avati is probably not as well-known or respected as other Italian genre directors is due to the fact that so many of his films are impossible to find and most of them have never been released in America until recently.

The director has made at least 3 or 4 horror or fantasy films that I’m aware of, and I’ve only been able to see two of them myself (The House with Laughing Windows and Zeder) since they were released as part of the Image Euroshock DVD collection in the U.S. Even though I’ve only seen a few of his films, I find Avati to be one of the most fascinating filmmakers I’ve ever come across. His horror films are deliberately paced and extremely thoughtful. They explore esoteric themes and interesting concepts about life and death, but unlike many of his contemporaries, his films lack gore and effects. They also tend to lack nudity and sex which some critics find bothersome, since his perceived prudishness could be seen as conflicting with the sexual themes in his films.

The absence of excessive gore and nudity in Avati’s films is probably the final and most obvious reason why his movies have so often been overlooked by horror fans who tend to be male and often prefer their horror films with plenty of violence and bare breasts. That’s not to say that The House with Laughing Windows (1976) and Zeder (1983) don’t contain any violence or nudity, but compared to most Italian directors from the same period such as Lamberto Bava, Dario Argento and Lucio Fulci, Avati’s films could be seen as much less visceral. They tend to generate their scares and evocative mood more from what the audience doesn’t see, instead of what’s put before them on screen. I personally find Avati’s style of filmmaking extremely smart and sophisticated. He seems to mix the best aspects of classic gothic Italian horror films with the most interesting aspects of modern Italian horror films, and this gives his work a very personal look and feel that is all his own.

The House with Laughing Windows is the earliest Avati film that I’ve seen and it’s easily one of the best Italian thrillers made in the ’70s. According to the video interview with the director and his crew that accompanies the DVD, the script was written five or six years before the film was made, but it was re-written right before filming began. I suspect that the changes might have been somewhat inspired by Nicolas Roeg’s Don’t Look Now, which was made in 1973 since both films share a few similarities, but that’s impossible to confirm since The House with Laughing Windows was supposedly written years earlier. Fans of the 1973 horror film The Wicker Man might also see some similarities between Avati’s movie and that British thriller. One thing seems certain; the script clearly has some references to Pier Paolo Pasolini’s Salo (1975) in it. Avati contributed to Pier Pasolini’s original script for Salo right before making The House with Laughing Windows and it’s easy to make a connection between the two movies since they both explore ideas about torture and sadism.

The House with Laughing Windows opens with a brutal scene involving a mysterious man being tortured and stabbed. It’s creatively shot with muted tones and quick cuts that take away a bit of the shock it elicits, but some viewers will immediately be reminded of Pasolini’s Salo. Avati has said that his Catholic upbringing deeply effects his filmmaking and that becames apparent while watching the opening minutes of The House with Laughing Windows. Throughout the course of the film, Avati will evoke Catholic imagery and iconography over and over again in some subtle and very unsubtle ways.

After the film’s somewhat graphic opening minutes, we’re introduced to the movie’s main protagonist, a man named Stephano (Lino Capolicchio) who has come to a small and beautiful Italian village to restore a decaying fresco painting on the wall of an old church that vividly depicts the slaughter of St. Sebastian. We’re immediately made aware that this small town is a bit odd simply due to its unusual inhabitants which include dwarves, ghost-like women, depraved altar boys and raving drunks, among others.

Stephano finds the fresco in the church extremely lifelike and as the film progresses we follow him on a quest to learn more about the mysterious artist who created it known as “The Painter of Agonies.” Along the way Stephano is plagued by threatening phone calls and he receives unusual clues from the town’s odd inhabitants, which often lead to murder. As the bodies start to pile up, questions surrounding the fresco’s artist become more and more complex, and Stephano realizes he’s uncovering clues to a disturbing mystery that no one in the town wants solved. The House with Laughing Windows isn’t a typical giallo film and I hesitate to use the term here, but it does have plenty of giallo-style flourishes that should appeal to fans of the genre.

Avati manages to create an unsettling mood and sustain it throughout the entire duration of the film until it’s unforgettable climax. The director makes full use of shadows and the lovely local scenery. Avati also takes every opportunity available to him to shoot his characters out of windows and doors, or looking through and at windows and doorways. Windows and doors are impressively used as a visual motif over and over again throughout the film, which helps to beautifully highlight the movie’s primary themes.

Avati made The House with Laughing Windows with a crew of 12 and a budget that wouldn’t pay for the catering bill of most Hollywood productions. The movie is an excellent example of the creativity and ingenuity of European directors making genre films during the seventies, and I really can’t recommend it enough. Once you see The House with Laughing Windows it’s impossible to forget it.

Avati’s 1983 thriller Zeder is just as good, if not better than The House with the Laughing Windows, and it’s also well worth seeking out if you’re interested in seeing more of the directors work, or just want to watch a incredibly effective horror film.

As I mentioned above, The House with Laughing Windows is available on DVD from Image as part of their terrific Euroshock Collection and it was originally released in 2002. The film is presented in widescreen with English subtitles and the print is excellent. The DVD also comes with a really nice documentary about the making of the film, which features Pupi Avati, as well as many cast and crew members. Other extras include a Lobby Card Gallery and a Theatrical Trailer.

Avati is currently 69 years old and working on a new thriller called The Hideout, which should be completed this year. His latest film was shot in America and it features an international cast that includes Burt Young, Treat Williams, Giovanni Lombardo Radice, Yvonne Sciò, Laura Morante and Michael Cornelison. I have no idea of Avati’s latest film will be released in the America, but since it’s an international production I hope it gets a wide release.

If you’d like to see more images from Pupi Avati’s film, please see my House with Laughing Windows Flick Gallery.

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Revisiting the Bay of Blood

by Kimberly Lindbergs | July 13, 2007

Categories | Horror, Giallo, Italian Cinema, Blogathons, Mario Bava

Welcome to the Bay of Blood

When Stacie Ponder first announced her Friday the 13th blog-a-thon I didn’t sign-up right away since here at Cinebeats I try and keep the focus on sixties and seventies era films, and the first Friday the 13th movie was released in 1980. Then I remembered the obvious.

Long before Jason put on a hockey mask and started terrorizing camp counselors at Crystal Lake, Italian horror maestro Mario Bava took audiences on a trip to the Bay Of Blood (a.k.a. Twitch of the Death Nerve, Reazione a catena; 1971). I decided to revisit the Bay of Blood and examine just how much influence it had on the Friday the 13th films following its 1971 release.

Mario Bava’s Bay of Blood takes place in a quiet bayside Italian resort area where lots of holiday homes seem to lay dormant and empty waiting for their owners to return. Some of the homes are more luxurious than others, but they were all built close together and in some ways they resemble a sort of “summer camp.” For better or worse, the neighbors also seem to know one another and the bay itself actually looks like a lake. Naturally the homes all have their own weather beaten boat docks and the area is heavily forested, which comes in handy since a lot of the action takes place in the local woods.

A killer stalks these halls

The film opens with the crude murder of a poor wheelchair bound woman who’s killed inside her luxurious villa. Her smug murderer is shockingly disposed of as well by another unseen killer lurking in the shadows. This stunning double murder sets the stage for the rest of Bava’s bloody film.

Soon afterward a group of four sex starved young people arrive at the bay looking for some summer fun. They break into empty homes, drink lots of booze and dance like crazy until the mysterious killer decides to murder them all in quick order. Much like Jason in Friday the 13th, the killer uses a machete on his victims and brutally hacks them up in what are easily some of the goriest scenes put on screen in the early seventies. One girl has her throat cut while her boyfriend gets a machete in his head. The other couple is murdered brutally when the killer decides to use a spear on them while they’re busy having sex. These now classic murders were copied to the letter for the Friday the 13th films.

The killers in Bay of Blood don’t wear hockey masks, but at some point one of the murder victims puts on a tribal mask and tries to scare his friends before they’re all killed. Surely the makers of Friday the 13th must have jumped a little when they watched that memorable scene.

Other murders soon follow and the corpses continue to pile up in the Bay of Blood until it’s dark comedic end arrives with a bang. But the moments that have always remained with me the most in the film are the pointless and brutal deaths suffered by the four innocent young people who were just out for a good time.

Victims R Us

The young people in Bay of Blood have become the prototype victims for countless slasher films that followed it’s lead. They were all complete innocents who just found themselves in the wrong place at the wrong time. Their only crimes were being party crazy and sex starved, which made them easy targets. For the past 35 years similar victims have been getting hacked, slashed, strangled and mangled in movie after movie.

Forget everything you’ve read about Halloween, Black Christmas and so on. It’s impossible to watch the four young people get murdered in Bay of Blood without realizing that you’re watching the birth of the slasher film. Bava had conjured up plenty of murder and mayhem in his previous films such as Blood and Black Lace and 5 Dolls For an August Moon which were both groundbreaking gialli, but those films were a bit more restrained and the victims were rarely as innocent or as young. Bava goes for broke in Bay of Blood and seems unwilling to hold anything back. His camera lingers longer on each gruesome murder and the award winning special effects and makeup he used was incredibly realistic for 1971.

As in other slasher films like Friday the 13th, a lot of the action in Bay of Blood is shot from the killer’s perspective and Bava even uses a shaky camera effect to make us feel like we’re the killer at times. What separates Bava’s film from every other slasher film that followed is his amazing photography and great editing. Bay of Blood makes other similar efforts look childish in comparison. Almost no one shoots interiors as masterfully as Bava, and he brings lots of his signature gothic styling to this bayside thriller.

At the Bay of Blood sex can be deadly

The Bay of Blood features a terrific international cast including many genre favorites such as Claudine Auger, Luigi Pistilli, Claudio Camaso, Anna Maria Rosati, Laura Betti, Isa Miranda, Claudio Camaso, Brigitte Skay and young Nicoletta Elmi. The movie also contains one of composer Stelvio Cipriani’s best film scores.

I enjoyed the first two Friday the 13th films. I could have lived without the third one, but the fourth one wasn’t half bad. With that being said, all the Friday the 13th films combined can’t hold a candle to Bay of Blood in my opinion. If you watch one slasher film this summer, make it Bava’s blood-soaked visit to an Italian bay. You’ll have fun spotting all the film’s influential scenes.

You can find more screen shots at my Bay of Blood Flickr Gallery which I put together just for the blog-a-thon.

More info about Bay of Blood (a.k.a. Twitch of the Death Nerve) and it’s influence on the Friday the 13th films can be found at the films’ page on Wikipedia.

Also take a moment to check out this week’s Horror Roundtable where we all discuss our favorite murders from the Friday the 13th films!

The local octopi seem to be enjoying all the carnage

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Edwige Fenech Returns to Horror

by Kimberly Lindbergs | June 4, 2007

Categories | Horror, Giallo, Actresses, Mario Bava, Thrillers

Europe has produced many lovely and talented actresses who have had memorable careers in horror cinema and one of my favorite European “Scream Queens” is the beautiful Edwidge Fenech.

Fenech was born on December 24, 1948 and began her career as a model before getting into acting in the late sixties. She started out making European sex comedies and she would continue to appear in them throughout her career. But I think her most interesting work as an actress can be found in the Italian thrillers and giallo films that she made for great directors such as Mario Bava, Sergio Martino, Giuliano Carnimeo and Andrea Bianchi.

Edwige Fenech’s incredible beauty, sensuality and natural vulnerability made her the perfect protagonist in many wonderful giallo films which rely on aesthetics as well as thrills for great effect. Fenech starred in many of the best gialli made throughout the sixties and seventies, and all the movies she was in definitely benefited from her presence. No matter how fantastical the film plot was, Fenech was able to bring an element of realism to her acting roles that made her characters very sympathetic and believable.

The last horror film Fenech appeared in was Ruggero Deodato’s entertaining Phantom of Death (a.k.a. Un Delitto poco comune, 1988) with Michael York and Donald Pleasence almost 20 years ago. Fenech has continued to act in various Italian television dramas since then and she has also become a film producer and distributor. At age 60 Edwige Fenech is still unbelievably beautiful and I think it’s a shame that she hasn’t continued to act in more European thrillers.

The Case of the Bloody Iris (1972)

Thankfully that will all change this week with the release of Eli Roth’s Hostel 2 (2007). Roth met Fenech in February of 2006 and asked if she would consider returning to the screen for a role in Hostel 2. Fenech agreed and took the part of an Art Class Professor in Roth’s latest film. For many giallo film enthusiasts like myself, it’s wonderful to see Edwige Fenech returning to the big screen again in another thriller. I don’t care for a lot of modern American horror films but I’m really looking forward to Hostel 2.

The original Hostel (2005) film seemed to divide audiences and critics but I personally thought it was one of the more entertaining and original American horror movies made in recent years. I enjoyed the film’s slow buildup which forced audiences to get to know the characters before they started dropping dead and I don’t understand the “torture porn” label that has been slapped on Roth’s movie. “Torture porn” seems to be a catchy term that modern critics have come up with to label particular horror films and divide a genre that they know absolutely nothing about.

Whatever you may think of Eli Roth, I think it’s terrific that he was able to coax Edwige Fenech into appearing in another horror film and I hope it will encourage her to take on more similar roles in the future. Hostel 2 opens in US theaters nationwide on June 8th.

If you want to see more of Edwige Fenech I highly recommend the following films:
- 5 Dolls For an August Moon (5 bambole per la luna d’agosto, 1970)
- The Strange Vice of Mrs. Wardh (Lo Strano vizio della Signora Wardh, 1971)
- All the Colors of the Dark (Tutti i colori del buio, 1972)
- The Case of the Bloody Iris (Perché quelle strane gocce di sangue sul corpo di Jennifer?, 1972)
- Your Vice Is a Locked Room and Only I Have the Key (Il Tuo vizio è una stanza chiusa e solo io ne ho la chiave, 1972)
- Strip Nude For Your Killer (Nude per l’assassino, 1975)
- Phantom Of Death (Un Delitto poco comune, 1988)

For more information about Edwige Fenech and her films I suggest visiting the great Cult Sirens site and if you’re interested in reading a review for Fenech’s upcoming film Hostel 2 I recommend visiting Michael Guillen’s terrific blog The Evening Class.

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Perversion Story

by Kimberly Lindbergs | March 28, 2007

Categories | Movie Reviews, Giallo, Italian Cinema, Cinedelica, Lucio Fulci, Thrillers

I don’t know if I’ll get around to writing about all the Lucio Fulci films that have recently been released and re-released on DVD anytime soon, but I recently wrote about Fulci’s Perversion Story (Una sull’altra, 1969) for Cinedelica which was released by Severin Films late last month.

Perversion Story is a great thriller, but I personally wouldn’t refer to it as a giallo even though it’s been called that by lots of reviewers. It seems like that term is getting tossed around really casually lately by critics and DVD companies trying to sell movies. Every Italian thriller made in the 60s & 70s that’s been released on DVD in the past few years seems to be given the “giallo” label.

But enough of my complaining… Perversion Story is easily one of Fulci’s best films and if you enjoy stylish & erotic Italian thrillers please stop by Cinedelica and give my review a look. The movie stars the lovely Marisa Mell who happens to be one of my favorite actresses and it also has a fantastic score by composer Riz Ortolani. Severin’s Perversion Story is easily one of the best DVD releases of the year so far.

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