This particular film differs in the emphasis it places on the police investigation. Unusually the police are not depicted here as loathsome bunglers, but instead as a very likeable and humorous bunch who are desperate to solve what turns out to be an incredibly complex and labyrinthine murder case. They are led by the determined but flawed Peretti, a gifted master of deduction, who is less than gifted with regard to his own personal relationships. The film opens with an audacious pre-title sequence, a death by decapitation – the murder weapon, an industrial earth digger! This outstanding and absurd set piece is quickly underscored by a credits sequence in which a beautiful nursery rhyme theme, composed by Ennio Morricone, hints at the centrality that themes of childhood and lost innocence will play in the film.

My Dear Killer ultimately fails to live up to this excellent opening and this can largely be attributed to the complexity of the plot. Although giallo narratives are normally convoluted this one raises the bar even further. The film abounds with red herrings, as an old case is re-opened, a plethora of suspects are trooped out in rapid fashion, and Peretti is continuously out-manoeuvred by the resourceful assailant. This resourcefulness includes the use of a buzz saw in one of the films keynote set pieces and the use of a marble statuette. Peretti soon finds himself drawn into a bourgeois world of schemers and crooks, and of blackmail and deceit, as he uncovers a sordid event that returns to haunt the lives of a wealthy family. The structure of the film becomes even more complex with a series of flashbacks and even more unpleasant with one red herring hinting at child abuse and paedophilia. The plot device of a children’s drawing as a major clue is one found in a number of gialli – a piece of artwork is often the conduit by which the investigator is able to make connections with the past events and so it is here. Any film dealing with the murder of children is bound to be harrowing, and in this regard the film does a leave a sour taste in the mouth. The final summing up at films end is perhaps a bit too like the conclusion to any number of Agatha Christie novels, and is one of the few moments of contrivance in an otherwise structurally sound film.

This is a very accomplished piece of genre film making.  It is stylishly shot and makes consistent and successful use of subjective point of view shots. This ‘killer cam’ is especially impressive during the buzz saw sequence, and affords a brief insight into the shattered sanity of a killer. On this evidence, it is a shame that Valerii didn’t go on to direct more films in the genre, and it is further proof, if any is needed, that many filmmakers were making solid, entertaining, and durable entries into this popular Italian filone.

tIn one deft movement Argento manages to successfully bridge the gap between the trashy and exploitative realm of the giallo and traditions of Italian art cinema. He achieves this partly through his collaboration with Zapponi, but also through the self-conscious decision to cast David Hemmings as avant-garde musician turned amateur sleuth Marcus Daly. This provides an extra-textual link to Michelangelo Antonioni’s existential expose of swinging London Blow Up (1966). The themes of Argento and Antonioni crisscross regularly, and one can see that Argento was as much informed by the art cinema of his native country as he was by Hitchcock or the horror genre in a wider sense. However a key difference is that rather than explore the isolated psyche of the alienated loner contending with the difficulties of modernity (a major preoccupation of much Italian art cinema) Argento subverts this subjectivity to explore the perversity and insanity beneath the pretence of the bourgeois art world. In Deep Red artistic endeavour is strongly liked to femininity or homosexuality, and through art Argento is articulating a crisis in masculinity. This is played out in a number of witty encounters between Daly and the assertive and liberated journalist Giana Brezzi (played with wide-eyed brilliance by Daria Nicolodi). The most obvious the moment in which she beats Marc in an arm wrestling contest.

Art is being used in a metaphorical fashion, a metaphor for madness, insanity and eventually violent death. This is taken to an extreme when the murderers face and identity is almost submerged into a painting, the identity of the psychopath at one with the nightmarish artwork. Gialli live and die by the success or failure of their set piece death sequences. In Deep Red not only are they exceptional, but they seem to go beyond the narrative and into the realm of the poetic. They become the most artistic element of the film. They include a memorable and chilling sequence involving a mechanical dummy, and perhaps most horrifying of all a death by scalding. This is not an unconventional giallo though, and like most the narrative hinges on a past event that has been repressed – this is superbly hinted at by a prologue sequence that breaks up the opening credits, offering us a murder shot from a peculiarly low angle. This scene becomes the key to the whole film, and it remains a satisfying enigma until the films violent conclusion. One can even put aside the clichéd criticism of Argento’s narrative faults, in Deep Red every aspect of the plot works seamlessly with the story. One or two mistimed comedy moments aside Deep Red emerges as a lucid, artistic, metaphorical, symbolic and visually impressive film that even finds time for a progressive discussion of gender politics.

At the level of characterisation though the film is a dismal failure. The characters are uniformly repugnant, and without exception deserve the fates in store for them. Our amateur detective protagonist Carlo is a character with no redeeming qualities, and as a result gives us nothing to cheer about when the mysterious assailant is unveiled at the films conclusion. Carlo then goes on to end the film with the threat of sodomy to his lover, confirming if confirmation was still required what a sleazy piece of trash this nominal hero is. Bianchi curiously extends this perversity and grotesqueness to every character in the film, with the slight exception of Magda played by Edwige Fenech. However it is clear very early on why Fenech is so important to the film, one of her first actions is to strip off and perform oral sex on the sleaze bag Carlo. Nevertheless much of the cult credentials of the film lie with Miss Fenech, who has become a figure of semi-worship for many a fan of European sleaze cinema. However her short close cropped hair, and androgynous look in the film did very little for this reviewer.

The mystery, such as it is, revolves around a botched abortion. One might imagine that Bianchi could use this to investigate this touchy subject, but one gets the impression that the only reason this is here, is so the film can open with a camera shot of a naked woman with her legs spread. Admittedly, few films open so distinctively, and Bianchi inserts a number of subliminal shots throughout of her corpse in a bathtub, but the reasons for the fashion house slaughter seem mean and tangential. However the assailant is distinctively attired in a motorcycle leathers, a good method of concealing both the identity and gender of the killer – because yes Bianchi uses the old Bird with the Crystal Plumage (1970) gender twist, unfortunately for this film however, by this point nobody gives a toss. The unforgivable error that Bianchi makes here is to direct a giallo completely lacking in suspense. For the exploitation elements one must commend his efforts, but the most successful examples of the form manage to combine the nudity/lesbian undertones with a strong plot, a strong visual style and suspense – Bianchi only gets one of these spot on.

Bianchi would never again step into the camp cosmopolitanism of the giallo. The promise of his debut film the underrated psychological thriller Night Hair Child (1972), would ultimately remain unfulfilled. He was a director seemingly unable to resist the pull of trash and sleaze. Whilst this is not a bad thing, there was enough in his debut film to suggest that Bianchi could have had an interesting career in chilling and atmospheric horror, as it turned out he would end up directing such incompetent dross as Nights of Terror (1981) – compared to that film Strip Nude For Your Killer is a success, but by the standards of other contemporary gialli this is a forgettable piece of cinematic garbage.

When brutality against the body is elevated to the level of art, the viewer is put in an uncomfortable position—instead of sympathizing with the victim, we are left admiring the visual presentation of a murder scene. Argento uses our discomfort with brutality and our attraction to the beautiful to create a nightmarish piece of art.

Suspiria has a very simple plot. A young American ballerina named Suzy Bannion arrives in Germany to attend the Freiburg Dance Academy. Her plane arrives late at night during a supernaturally intense downpour. Suzy arrives at the school just in time to see a young woman fleeing the school, mumbling to herself. Susie is not allowed inside and ends up leaving in the downpour. At this point, the camera leaves Suzy and follows the girl fleeing the school. As we follow the ill-fated girl into a strange apartment building with an ornate stained-glass dome, the famous score by the Goblins, a pulsing synthesizer beat of breathing, screaming, whispering, and wheezing, creates an almost unbearable tension.

In these first thirty minutes, it’s clear that Argento’s use of color and music are the real stars of Suspiria—blues and reds saturate the movie, creating a surreal, baroque atmosphere. The film moves in dreamy, sometimes disconnected, vignettes. But plot is not the point here, and it’s no surprise who wins, who loses, and how the movie ends. The script and the acting also aren’t the point—this is not a psychological horror movie, not the kind of film that reveals our latent fears about power, sexuality, pleasure, and pain. The young actresses in this film don’t display any real curiosity about the activities in the school. Unlike more contemporary horror films with all-female leads, such as Gingersnaps and The Descent, female sexuality is not what interests Argento. Argento is interested in aesthetics—color, elegance, and pageantry of the body.

Suspiria is not a movie for a viewer looking to get a political, social, or feminist message from their horror film. The primary point of ambiguity in the film lies in our reaction to the murders as viewers. What does it mean to admire the murder of a beautiful, young woman? In fact, the murders in Suspiria don’t feel like murders at all—the victims are not round characters that we sympathize with or feel any emotion towards, and even our heroine, Suzy, is not particularly interesting (which is perhaps why she is given the blandest of American names). The young women in this film are palates for Argento to create his bloody scenes. And those scenes are of such dream-like, nightmarish beauty, that it would be a shame to miss them because they don’t come with a lesson or message.

Unlike Fulci’s later horror films, this particular film is heavily reliant on a strong narrative structure. The most successful examples of the giallo form are those that perform that tricky balancing act of the detective narrative, with its red herrings and complex plot developments, with a linear story that provides a satisfying and sensible conclusion at the end. Don’t Torture… is a tightly plotted, efficiently constructed example of the giallo at its best. However despite its adherence to cause and effect, this particularly giallo is overflowing with many of the thematic concerns that Fulci would go on to develop. The theme of superstition, the ignorance of rural peasant folk, witchcraft, and the occult are all key aspects of Fulci’s cinema. However in this example the supernatural elements are used effectively as an imaginative red herring. The film is also marked by an unsettling atmosphere of repression and perversity. A general malaise in adult morality is combined with a stifling orthodoxy of attitude and hypocrisy. One only need to quote the scene in which a nude Barbara Bouchet prick teases an innocent twelve year old boy.

This creation of a rural community insular in its moral codes and attitudes is one that is asphyxiating under the repressive doctrines of Catholicism. This is reinforced by the unremitting brightness of the whitewashed walls of the village, and the labyrinthine nature of this part of Italy. The villagers are the non-trusting type who view outsiders, especially those from the cities, with mistrust and fear. They mete out their own brand of vigilante justice, which includes the brutal chain whipping to death of a local white witch. The police are depicted as ineffectual bunglers, a stance which is not new for gialli. Instead the task of solving the spate of child murders falls to a couple of amateurs from the city. The motives of the criminal remain one of the most fascinating aspects of this film, due as they are, not to some perverse reason, but instead to a zealous idealism which strives to preserve childhood innocence. This idealism sees the city and its denizens as a haven of vice and immorality whose polluting tentacles are slowly reaching the rural parts of Northern Italy. The stifling summer heat and the sun bleached walls become a metaphor for a society crushed beneath the repressive doctrines of Catholicism. This film is possibly Lucio Fulci’s finest hour

The plot of your average giallo is by its nature labyrinthine and purposefully confusing. The narratives often have a cavalier approach to continuity and character development. These inconsistencies very rapidly lead to a greater emphasis on the set piece structure, and the result is that the story and plot are often relegated in favour of exaggerated and stylised violent death sequences. Despite this obvious storytelling problem gialli still have to somehow achieve a sense of narrative satisfaction. This is why examples of excellence in this sub-genre are few and far between. Tenebre is more inconsistent and incoherent than most. It fails to deliver narrative satisfaction, which is something that has regularly been levelled at the majority of Argento’s films. For once even the soundtrack fails to add the layers of resonance and atmosphere that the last three Argento productions had enjoyed. The electronic and synthetic disco drive of the Goblin collaborators providing distraction rather than ambience. The music is very good if listened too outside of the film, but its use within the film is questionable. This is perhaps exemplified in the masturbatory four minute single camera set up scene, a show off sequence in which Argento tracks around and over an apartment. At the time it was possibly innovative, now it seems self indulgent and the music detracts from it. Nevertheless this is a striking moment and probably the only scene in the film to rival anything in Inferno or Suspiria.

Tenebre does however succeed admirably in its self reflexive attitude to its principal themes. The film explores the effects of violence in the media and the potential influence it might hold for susceptible minds – in this case it is a trashy horror novel. It is amusing to watch the novelist deny accusations of misogyny in the same way Argento has had too. This was a particularly prescient theme considering that Tenebre itself was deemed a Video Nasty in the UK and banned due to its potentially harmful effects. It is noticeable though that despite this irony, Argento himself was unwilling to make his protagonist a filmmaker. Whilst this would have a been a very post-modern step on Argento’s part, his failure to do so smacks of cowardice.

Tenebre as noted fails in a number of areas, but certainly not in the area of graphic violence. Argento even manages to make the film sexy in places, even if it is of the perverse variety. Adding to the violence are themes of fetishism, voyeurism and perverse sexuality. However, the brutal slayings of a pair of lesbians does tend to damage any progressive notions the film might have with regard to gender and sexuality. Tenebre should be a minor film in Argento’s filmography. It is certainly his weakest since Four Flies on Grey Velvet (1971), but the alarming drop in quality post Opera (1987) has led to Tenebre being thought of much highly than it probably deserves. Even by the standards of the sub-genre it sits within it comes up short.

Before viewing New York Ripper, you should have a little bit of knowledge of Fulci’s past films and the history of their censorship. His films are regularly banned in Germany as well as many other countries in Europe. Throughout the rest of the world, if he hasn’t already been banned, his films were restricted to minimal promotional standards, and upon that, heavily cut, not by seconds, but cut by many minutes do to their scenes of torture and gore. But it’s all in fun…really! With most of Fulci’s work, the gore is always overdone to the point where you are not only disgusted, but also are in a state of shock that effects can be so gruesome, unreal, but at the same time, incredible realistic. Fulci tends to take you to the breaking point while still offering the viewer loads of entertainment value…well, only if you can stomach the gore scenes that are always neatly scattered throughout his most acclaimed work. New York Ripper is really no different; although, it does tend to be grittier in its approach do to its setting. It also holds more nudity than any other Fulci flick, but most importantly, it shows us the greatest scenes of gore that Fulci shot throughout his career, and of course, his most censored.

Ultimately, New York Ripper is an exciting game of cat and mouse. The film stars a troubled and burned-out police officer who is on the trail of a vicious killer who is, at random, killing innocent women. Now, as if killing for no real reason didn’t make you a psychopath, our killer also feels the need to quack like Donald Duck as he commits his murders. It sounds ridiculous, and it is, but it’s almost favored due to the fact that Fulci has a very precise goal in mind — show the world that he can craft a fabulous giallo in the mixed of the grimmest, goriest, and most controversial circumstances. The voice of Donald Duck also does tie into the films plot in an almost fitting way, but in the end, there are many things happening in this film that can make any viewer scratch their chin. That’s not really a bad thing either because this is the type of movie you’ll remember more as a whole, not just its more favorable portions, even if the violence is turned up to “extreme” levels.

Speaking of which…

Did you ever want to know what it would look like if you cut a person’s eye in half, while still in socket, with a razor blade? What about a nipple??? Oooooo…ouch! In fact, no, I’m not sure I wanted to see that, but I did, and it resulted in probably a half-a-dozen more viewings of New York Ripper, not just because of these scenes, but how these scenes added to the films overall gritty appeal. But the violence isn’t the only thing that makes the film incredibly morbid. Sex is portrayed in the sleaziest of settings and love is always equally twisted into insanity, revenge, and murder. It really doesn’t get any rawer than this!

Like any good giallo, the plot in Ripper is sometimes too overturned for its own good. Halfway through the film you’ll realize that you should have studied some of the detectives conversations a bit more and listened more closely to what seemed like unnecessary banter. Like any good giallo, it’s worth seeing more than once to connect any loose ties. Again, New York Ripper is no different.

In his library of controversial classics, New York Ripper is by far Lucio Fulci’s rawest film. It might not be his finest giallo, but there are also a lot of good things happening in this film that go beyond the rules of a standard film in the Italian genre. In the end, it’s just nice to see that while Fulci decided to make the most controversial film of his career, he also made one that is considered to be, for most of his dearest fans, a film in their “Top Five Lucio Fulci Films” list.