Night Train Murders

Night Train Murders

Original Title: L’ultimo treno della notte

Directed by: Aldo Lado

Italy, 1975

Thriller, Rape/revenge, 94min

Distributed by: Shameless Screen Entertainment.

How could the late Ulla Isaksson ever have know that the script she based on a century old folksong, later directed by Ingmar Bergman as Jungfrukällan (The Virgin Spring) 1960, would end up being a prime source for exploitation films? Did she ever know? Did anyone ever inform her of this?

Wes Craven hit it off when he loosely based his Last House on the Left 1972 on the Isaksson script, and the ball was set in motion. Movies that sometimes where inspired by the plot, sometimes by the title such as Last House on Dead End Street, 1977, La settima donna (Last House on the Beach) 1978, to some extent Autostop rosso sangue (Hitch-Hike), 1977, and even Mario Bava’s Reazione a catena (Bay of Blood) was labled Last House on the Left, Part2 when it was finally released in the USA pooped up all over the place. Most of the films drew inspiration from the Craven movie and it’s spawn, and perhaps most famously Ruggero Deodato’s House at the Edge of the Park 1980. But already in 1975, Aldo Lado and Renato Izzo wrote a screenplay based on a story of Roberto Ifanascelli and Ettore Scanó (responsible for several similar stories) came up with Last Stop on the Night Train, also known as Night Train Murder.

Laura Stradi [Marina Berti] and cousin Margaret Hoffenbach [Irene Miracle later to star in Dario Argento’s Inferno 1980] are on their way home for the holidays. The two girls take the train from Munich with Laura’s hometown in Italy as the final destination. But fate has other plans for them, and they never get there... On-board the train they encounter two brutish thugs; Blackie [Flavio Bucci also seen in Argento’s Suspiria 1977] and Curly [Gianfranco De Grassi] team up with the seedy blonde know only as “the lady” [Macha Mérli, best known for her performance as the psychic Helga Ullman in Argento’s Profondo Rosso (Deep Red) the same year, 1975] and set a series of sordid games in motion that lead up to the death of the two young women.  Following the deaths the three end up at the home of Professor Guilio Stradi [Enrico Maria Salerno – Inspector Morosini in Argento’s debut feature L’uccello dale piume di cristallo (The Bird with the Crystal Plumage) 1970] and his wife Lisa [Laura D’Angelo] who soon realize who they have encountered and take a violent revenge.

Night Train Murders could more or less be looked at as a chamber piece, as it mostly takes place in one location, apart from the last act. This startling thriller is simply fascinating from the opening titles with that dodgy vocal song, but more on that later, to the final shot. Because this is a well plotted, well-written and definitely surprising film.  The movie is like a jigsaw puzzle where each part interlocks with the next brining a larger image together. As I say, this is a well-plotted, well-written gem, and now I’ll tell you why!

Already during the opening titles the threat of Blackie [Bucci] and Curly [DeGrassi] is presented as they who run around Munich, stealing, roughing people up, and even robbing a drunk Santa of his few pennies before freeloading onto a train in the station. These guys, despite being stereotypical villains for Italian genre film of the time, are definitely trouble to count on for hell raising.

Six minutes in, the set up for a later twist is presented. The overprotective parents are presented through a series of phone calls to the maid who just put Laura [Berti] and Margaret [Miracle] on the train home, and Prof. Stradi [Salerno], who obviously spends his days saving the lives of people – on his way home to his wife, he stops in the corridor as he hears two colleagues talk about the unfortunate accident victim who’s life can’t be saved. The honourable Prof. Stradi hands his briefcase to the nurse and tells them to call his wife and tell her he’ll be late… a presentation of traits that later will collide, and become of importance to the story.

The introduction of “the Lady on the Train” [Mérli] is an interesting one. Only moments after she enters the full train carriage and giving off an aura of a sophisticated lady – later enhanced when she discusses politics with the famous politician she recognizes in the newspaper to be sitting across from her in the carriage - she accidentally drops her purse as the train shakes through an intersection. The only item that gives any form of identification of her person is seen after the contents spill out, is a sordid photograph of a group sex session. Alberto Galittini’s edits of the carriage passengers looks at Mérli is magnificent, as it taints every scene between Mérli and the co-passengers in that confined space from there on. It also indicates that the posh lady is not quite what she seems behind that strict facade. Also it’s no surprise that the scene is placed directly after the carriage of priests and bishop is presented. Contrasting the passengers in this way is a metaphor of heaven and hell, good and evil, and pretty soon this comes to ring disturbingly true.

The girls are somewhat innocent kids, giddy to be away from school, smoking way to many cigarettes and exploring their sexuality – “Try leaning against the wall, you get a great feeling from all the vibration. Go on, try it!” Margaret says to Laura who answers “Yeah you are right. You think of everything.” This dialogue too is significant, as flirtation, forbidden pleasures and sexual tension is an important part of the set up.  The old saying curiosity killed the cat comes to mind.

Margaret confides in Laura, her first and only sexual encounter, they pleasure themselves by the vibration of the train. Margret has a brief but daring flirt with the thugs in the train restroom, which leads to the Blackie forcing his way in with “The Lady” when she goes to the restroom, and the sexual tension between the two leads to them having intercourse… with, believe it or not, cutaways of the train entering tunnels and rail tracks. Again this is all presentation of character, Blackie is a ruthless predator who won’t take no for an answer, and with the photograph and fact that she’ll shag strange blokes in the train crapper, and we understand that “The Lady” is a lurid character.

After changing trains, the girls are confronted by Curly and Blackie again, this time The Lady comforts them with the words that she won’t let them harm them. Now if they had stayed on the other train, the one filled with businessmen, politicians and the clergy, we may have believed her, but as soon as she says this, Lado takes us on a quick tour of this new train’s passenger. Prostitutes, Peeping Tom’s and Junkies… this is a completely different ride, as mentioned above, polarization is the game, and here it’s school bock example. In it’s finest form as the girls, held captive in the seedy night train, by Curly, Blackie and The Lady try to make a run for it, when Blackie beats Margaret… as she falls into the glass of the dark carriage door, editor Gallitti rapidly inserts shots of the light happy Christmas dinner taking place at their destination. Keep an eye open for Dalia di Lazzaro, from Andy Warhol’s Flesh for Frankenstein 1973, and Dario Argento’s Phenomena 1985 during this dinner party. Later Gallitti does the same when Margaret’s parents dance whilst their daughter is being raped.  As mentioned earlier, contrasts play a big part in this movie, and here’s it’s presented in it’s finest form.

Within the dark confined space - superbly light and captured buy cinematographer Gábor Pogány who also shot Pink Floyd: Live at Pompei 1972 - tension builds, as Curly, Blackie and The Lady start off a series of sadistic games, sexually themed torments and rapes, that not only had the BBFC’s refuse to give the film a cinema certification in 1976, and landed the it on the list of banned video nasties back in 1983, but also arrives at a shocking climax leaving both the young girls dead. This hideous act propels us into the final act.

In accuracy with the original Isaksson source, the criminals arrive at the home of the victim’s parents, and as an audience we are now craving vengeance. It’s really not too complicated; once again we have an emotional recognition. We can’t experience what the girls or their parents do, but we want justice for the wring done to them.

This is where the subplot with the parent’s fading relationship and the new start this Christmas has brought hem, along with the previous establishment of their good character come into play. Blackie, Curly and The Lady, get off the train instead of the girls, The Lady with injuries obtained as Blackie beat her after the murders, is offered to come home to the ever gallant Prof. Stradi to have her wounds taken care of as his wife and he await the next train to arrive. Here the traits that where established early on come back into play, Stradi’s lack of to refuse tending to patients end up with him taking the trio of strangers home.

Then a streak of genius by the scriptwriters... a scene that earlier seemed to be random, falls into the jigsaw, making the fuller picture come into focus for the Stradi’s. During the opening of the movie we saw a scene where the maid who sends Lisa and Margaret to the train station on their trip home, calls Lisa, Laura’s mother, and warns her of the terrible turquoise neck scarf Lisa has bought for her father as a Christmas present. Curly steals this necktie as they toss the girls bodies and belongings off the train, and Mrs. Stradi quickly becomes suspicious of the strangers in her house. The frequent newsflashes on the radio finally reveal the identity of the two dead women found mutilated by the side of the railroad tracks, and Dr. finally snaps. To hell with moral, and common sense, emotions get the upper hand and he takes his vengeance on the thugs. The journey is complete, from respected, caring, kind-hearted man of society to cold-hearted avenger, outside the law. Just as in the Ulla Isaksson script, the question of how far would you go, what would you do, could you kill if you had the chance are posed. Harrowing questions that make the Bergman movie such a classic and poignant themes that ring true through the most of the imitations that came in it’s wake.

OK, so a few words on the soundtrack, because despite having something of a crap start with Demis Roussos garbing his way through “A Flower is All you need” – originally the theme song to a romantic themed animated film Il giro del mondo degli innamorati di peynet (Around the world of Love) from 1974 – Night Train Murders has a rather interesting soundtrack. Diegetic audio is of importance, as the sound of the train mainly plays as the movies soundtrack together with Morricone’s minimalistic score. But also non-diegetic audio is used to create effect. At times entire scenes off the train, inside the mansion of the Stradi’s are acted out without the correct audio. Instead we only hear the sound of the train rushing forth towards its destination.  It keeps a tension whilst showing us the contrasts, which I talked about earlier.

Harmonica is an important part of this soundtrack, as Curly frequently plays one. It also becomes an important signifier that the “Crazy Boys” also change trains when Lisa and Margaret do so at a border check earlier on. Certain that they alone in the new coach they have snuck into, they share a Spartan Christmas dinner of sandwiches and pop – kids once again – when they suddenly hear the warble of Curly’s harmonica. It’s a disturbing moment, as they react with honest fear… the crazy boys are there.

Night Train Murders still holds up, it’s a tight, tense and fairly sleazy piece that definitely is worth enjoying if you still haven’t seen it. A enthralling ride that takes some dark turns, and forces the audience to drop their morale and find their primitive being confined deep inside. Now available in it's uncut glory, with a new superior image, remastered in 1.85:1 and presented with crisp DolbyDigital 2.0 Mono from Shameless Screen Entertainment.

The Antichrist

The Antichrist

Original Title: L’antichristo

Directed by: Alberto De Martino

Italy, 1974

Horror/Satan/Occult, 112 min

Distributed by: Optimum Releasing.

As far as satanic possession movies go there’s not too many of them tach come off as anything else than cheesy Exorcist rip offs. These past weeks I’ve seen several variants on the old possessed teenage chick story, and it’s fair to say that the most of them all fall into the same pitfalls and needless to say they all have the same familiar traits that we know all to well.

Current stuff like Manuel Carballo’s La posesión de Emma Evans (Exorcismus) 2010, Daniel Stamm’s The Last Exorcism 2010 or even Paco & Balaugeró’s [Rec]2 2009, all play by the book, and you know before the last act rolls through you will have seen bile, rolling eye whites, foul language snarled out by the possessed and in the most cases levitation. Needless to say these movies look fantastic, a lot has happened since William Friedkin unleashed his 1973 milestone movie based on Peter Blatty’s novel of the same name. But I still hold a naïve fascination for those movies released much nearer to that landmark of genre cinema, the stuff so painfully trying to cash in on the success of The Exorcist. I’m obviously talking about movies like Mario Bava’s Lisa e il diavolo (Lisa & The Devil) 1974 - also recut with alternate material to assimilate Fridekin’s movie under the name House of Exorcism, Amando De Ossorio’s La endemoniada (The Possessed) 1975 and Alberto de Martino’s L’antichristo (The Antichrist) 1974 to name a few.

Those movies, despite how they did at the box-office back then, have become somewhat cult classics by today’s standards. Back then they where painfully trying to get in on the action, and being so close to that original flick, I feel that they where lost at the time. Today it’s movies like these that I can appreciate as they tried to pull stuff off on minimal budgets and to some extent succeeded in mimicking the sensationalism of the original.

Since a terrible accident in her childhood Ippolita Oderisi [Carla Gravina] has been paralyzed from waist down. Her religious father Massimo [Mel Ferrer] is supportive and takes her on pilgrimages to various sacred places and statues of saints in hope of some miracle cure. Even Bishop Ascanio Oderisi [Arthur Kennedy] is concerned and holds masses to pray for Ippolita. Although when Ippolita’s brother Fillipo [Remo Girone] turns up at a party with his mate Marcello Sinibaldi [Umberto Orsini] desperately trying to match the two together, Ippolita pretty soon realises that Sinibaldi is a psychiatrist with a hidden agenda.

Convinced that Ippolita’s handicap is rooted in her background, perhaps in a former life way before that childhood accident, Dr. Sinibaldi persuades Ippolita to undergo some regression therapy hypnosis. That’s when the trouble starts. In her previous life Ippolita was a witch, also playing dual roles with a spiffy longhaired blonde wig, and this witch was burned at the stake for being in league with Satan. Obviously this demonic force takes a grip of Ippolita and pretty soon she can’t tell the awoken past life persona from the real Ippolita. Which is a great thing for us as this gives De Martino and his cinematographer Aristide Massaccesi – yes old loveable Joe D’Amato – an opportunity to mess around with back projection, mate screens and creating some pretty neat levitation, transformation and freaky special effect moments including a couple of really impressive imploding mirrors and television screens along the way.

Like any movie in the demonic possession realm Ippolita vomits bile, she spreads her legs and taunts everyone around her with her sexuality, makes sideboards and cupboards levitate around the room and decomposes with each day that goes until there’s only the demon present and almost no Ippolita at all. Finally the moment we have been awaiting is upon us, Massimo's brother, Bishop Oderisi, arrives to take on the age old nemesis of the church and the final battle commences… or wait it doesn’t because this movie holds yet another surprise for it’s audience.

In film theory some studies latch frantically onto what’s known as the image system, it’s at times so farfetched that it becomes almost more parody than anything else. One of my favourite passages in all the writings Russian filmmaker Andrej Tarkovsky left behind is when he discusses the reoccurrence of horses, apples and billowing fields in his work. After years of film students and academics trying to force their theories and interpretations of his “image system” Tarkovsky himself wrote that he simply liked the look of horses, apples and billowing fields. That’s fucking brilliant and such a smack in the face of over analytical bullshit. Which also is one of the reasons I write the crap I write on here, there’s no need to sneer at alternative low budget cinema, as it’s filled to the brim of the same symbolism, traits, storytelling and image systems that the acknowledged filmmakers and art house posers have been using for all time.

Getting back on track, it’s fair to say that the image system of The Antichrist has to be toads. Toads figure in several occasions throughout the movie and these toads are obviously associated with negative values, evil magical beasts and demonic creatures. The reason for this is of course the metaphoric value that they hold, the transformation from tadpole to full grown toad represents the resurrection, the rebirth. Much like the rebirth of the demon in The Antichrist. Then there’s the symbol value of strong feminine energy, clearly the energy of the female demon. It’s also a key part of the antichrist communion, where the torn off head of the toad serves as the body of Satan!

This is a great little movie. It’s entertaining as hell and takes several sudden turns. It has a lot going for it with the back-story that slowly lets out more information as it goes along. For a while I was sure that the Mel Ferrer relationship with Swedish starlet Anita Strindberg would be milked and become a sinister back-story where Ferrer had cheated on his wife with Strindberg before that terrible accident hence being projected guilt that had paralyzed Ippolita. There’s a small indication of oedipal jealousy in there, but nothing that really pays off apart from a few lines of possessed blasphemy and raunchy talk concerning her father and future wife’s sexual appetites. But it never goes for the guilt trip in that classic way. Instead the entire back-story arc is dedicated to the witch trial and execution. A parallel story that’s also reflected in the main narrative, such as the last minute redemption that turns former life witch Ippolita into the saint she visits at during the opening sequence. This opening sequence is mirrored in more than one-way during the movie’s climax, but you’ll just have to check it out to see in what way.

I find that Alberto De Martino’s script, co-written with Vincenzo Mannino and Gianfrano Clerici is satisfying as it uses what we've seen and brings something new with it - a very salty italian twist just the way we want it. This approach is nothing new for Mannino – writer of several character driven Poliziotteschi about Police Inspector Betti, commonly portrayed by Maurizio Merli and epic adventures also “in the familiar style of others” like Enzo G. Castellari’s L’ultimo squalo (Great White) 1981 or Ruggero Deodato’s I predatori di Atlantide (The Raiders of Atlantis) 1982, has been down that path on more than one occasion. But perhaps it mostly the movies he worked as co-writer on, stuff like Deodato’s La casa sperduta nel parco (House on the Edge of the Park) 1980, Lucio Fulci’s Lo squartatore di New York (The New York Ripper) 1982 and Murder-Rock: uccide a passo di danza (Murder-Rock: Dancing Death) 1984 that he’s most known for. Movies he primarily co-wrote with Gianfranco Clerici. Regular readers will know that I have something of a fetish for movies based on Clerici’s scripts, as I feel he very much indeed did write/work on some of the finest genre movies to ever come out of Italy.

Every demonic possession movie demands a grand entrance of Old Nick himself, and at least one moment that leaves it’s mark on the audience. The Black Mass where past life Ippolita engages in a satanic orgy is fantastic. I won’t spoil it for you but there’s a goat scene – which isn’t graphic at all, but fantastically suggestive and really brilliantly edited by Vincenzo Tomassi, who you recall edited all those Lucio Fulci movies. Tomassi brings a great flow to The Antichrist and it rarely feels as if it’s loosing pace, and there’s several brilliant juxtapositions you really need to see if you are into suggestive editing – and fucking amazing movies. Apart from the goat incident, there’s a hilarious moment where Ippolita flashes her lady parts to Bishop Oderisi, and his reaction is priceless, and just one of several splendid moments in The Antichrist.

I’ve hade the soundtrack by Ennio Morricone and Bruno Nicolai lying around for years, and it’s finally been a treat to actually put some images to the mental ones those tracks have been conjuring all these years. Needless to say the music is tremendously fitting when you have images to go with it.

Something I find intriguing about The Antichrist is the way De Martino uses, or rather not doesn't use his cast. There are some pretty damned good genre names in there, but none of them really get a moment to shine. Instead the whole movie does belong to Gravina who gives a grand performance in the lead. But it still feels kind of sore not to use the cast more than De Martino has. Mel Ferrer is about as interesting as drying paint, Strindberg more or less disappears from the flick after she once briefly get’s her kit off (next to an obviously bothered Ferrer who has to snog her next), the iconic Alida Valli is merely there for two small sequences and Kennedy, well he does his five minute bit and then fucks off. It’s odd and primarily saved by Gravinas dedicated performance.

As a little bonus for you if you want to get über-geeky, look out for bit part actor Ernesto Colli as the possessed man, he’s part of the mirror imagery I was talking about earlier, he's one of those faces you always remember and recognise in the large amount of movies he had bits in. And keep your eyes open when Filippo walks into the party after the opening segment. That blonde on his arm is another Scandinavian actress, this time none other than Ulla Johannsen! Doesn’t ring a bell? Well perhaps you remember her better as the naked chick with the machinegun in Enzo G. Castellari’s Ouei maledetto treno blindato (The Inglorious Bastards) 1978. There's iconic imagery if there every was iconic imagery!

Alberto De Martino followed The Antichrist with the Poliziotteschi Una Magnum Special per Tony Saitta (Blazing Magnum) 1976, held by many as one of the finest entries into that genre. It’s comes as no surprise to see that Clerici and Mannino wrote the script. Only three years later De Martino ventured back into satanic territory with Holocaust 2000, which wasn’t only a take on Richard Donner’s 1976 hit The Omen, but also sports a great performance from Spartacus himself, Mr. Kirk Douglas.

Image:

1.85:1 Colour.

Audio:

Dolby Digital Mono, 2.0 English dialogue.

Extras:

None.

AMER

Amer

Directed by: Hélène Cattet & Bruno Forzani

France/Belgium, 2009

Drama/Horror/ Arthouse, 87min.

Distributed by: Anchor Bay

Where the yanks pay homage to their gore, slasher and grindhouse history, the Europeans create pastiches of their cultural treasures found amongst the alternative genres… such is the case with Hélène Cattet & Bruno Forzani’s stunning debut feature Amer!

Amer is without a doubt the most minimalist and stylised approaches to the horror genre ever put on screen. But it’s also one of the richest and most detailed movies in the genre. Anyone with the slightest knowledge of European art house, the mystery of the Italian Gialli, the lighting of Mario Bava, the sensuality of Borowczyk, the daring mise en scène of Jean-Luc Goddard, to name a few will undoubtedly fall in love with the many nods, homage’s and direct referents to the many movies that dominate the visual style, narrative and tone of Amer.

Amer tells the tale of a woman, Ana, in three stages of her life, [Casandra Forêt, Charlotte Eugène Guibeaud & Marie Bos] as a child where the death of an elder haunts her and set’s demonic ghosts at play, her adolescences, where budding sexuality torments her as she comes of age and tries to fins her place in her new body, and finally the adult Ana coming to grasps with her memories of childhood and the traumatising experiences that she had.

A fascinating aspect of Amer is the minimalist dialouge. There are no long scenes of dialogue or hefty monologs; instead the restricted discourse pushes forth to suggestive imagery that drives the narrative forth.

Symbolism and metaphors are a huge part of Amer and it’s discourse with the viewer. It’s in the colour schemes, it’s in the imagery, it’s in the unspoken dialogue, it’s in the juxtapositions - it’s everywhere. Where deliberate referents have been created, they in turn spin non-intended into play.

Amer plays like a checklist of your favourite Euro horror titles, especially witin the Gialli sphere. Dario Argento’s Deep Red and Suspria, Sergio Martino’s Torso and All the Colours of the Dark, Lucio Fulci’s New York Ripper and many more, are all movies that flash to mind when watching Amer. Something that obviously pleases an old genre hound like myself.

Then there’s that superb soundtrack - what a soundtrack! A mere six tracks make up the entire soundtrack to Amer - Bruno Nicolai’s La Coda Della Scorpione, Ennio Morricone’s Un Uomob Si è Dimesso, A. Celentano/E. Leoni/P. Vivarelli’s Furore and Stelivio Cipriani’s La Polizia Chiede Aiuto, La Polizia Sta A Guardare and La Polizia Ha Le Mani Legate. Six tracks, six classics, six friggin’ masterpieces that give further dimension to Amer and propel the narrative forth when the music bursts through the speakers. You know the movies and that sets you in a certain mind frame. Obviously these tracks are very determined choices to layer out the movie and indicate to what is happening. Each track holds a key to reading the movie. There’s thought behind placing a track from a movie about childhood traumas and sexually charged crimes alongside the images that enhance the experience. It brings an incredible depth to the movie.

Amer is also quite possibly the most sexually explicit movie that you will ever see without actually seeing anything. Yes, without seeing anything. This is a magnificent aspect of Amer, everything is insinuated, everything is amplified by sound and image, but you never see it. The second and final act all ooze sex. You can almost taste it in the air from the atmosphere this movie creates. Theme wise, Amer is all about life, sex and death, which is exactly how the three acts play out.

The first sees Ana coming face to face with death, hence realising the value of her own life. She struggles against the antagonistic forces of the “ghosts” in an attempt to save her own life. The act comes to a harrowing climax – no pun intended – when she interrupts her parents being intimate, their own way of overcoming death. A moment that scars Ana, haunting her for the rest of her life. I will get back to that in a moment.

The second act is the sex act. Ana has become a young woman. All men she encounters look at her from a voyeuristic standing point. We can easily read their minds; they all want her. This is also enhanced though the choices of imagery. Low camera angles, almost peeking up her skirt, the oral symbolism of “sucking on her hair”, wind blowing through her thighs... If you pay attention you will also notice how her mother [Bianca Maria D’Amato] sees her daughter as a threat. She constantly corrects Ana’s ways and when there’s a man on horizon, she evokes all her female attributes, becoming almost a woman and not a mother anymore – a mother with needs, lusts and desires which may not have been responded to in a long time – we see no father figure and the scene is secondarily about a trip to the hairdresser. In a way it’s the mother’s demonstration of power over the young woman, the young woman who obviously is still a child in her mothers eyes. The entire scene holds a feeling of that classic moment where a parent corrects their child from doing the same things that make up their own traits. Do as I say, not what I do…

The final act is the obvious climax/death act, in more than one way. Remember that the French also call the orgasm “Le petitie mort”. Pretty early on in this sequence Ana falls onto a tree trunk and puts her hand in resin. With the suggestive line of association that has been put forth so far in the movie, this resin is not too far from come, a climax symbolism in it’s own right. There’s the anticipation of coming full circle, we are back in the house where the mystery started, we are expecting the ghosts to come back, but instead we encounter a completely different kind of ghost, the ghost of fornication past. Also there’s the climax to the line of Ana’s story. Where we expect her to fall victim, things take a completely different path. Pay attention to the closing scene, it’s a compact concentrate of the three main themes of the movie Life-Sex-Death and when the final climax is reached colour comes back to the world. The circle starts once again.

Freudian analysts would have a field day with this movie, one example being the cyclic movement that flows throughout the movie and the oral fixation, be it fingers, tongue or straight razor in the mouth of Ana. But getting into a brief psychoanalysis, AMer is once again a testament to the great power of guilt. Once again it rears it’s head and shows just how effective it is. As a child Ana interrupts her parents having sex. Her mother is crying a trait that a child will read as pain or sadness. Therefore Ana can’t be intimate without feeling sadness or pain. Also the frightening ordeal before she disrupts her parents – the blasphemy of stealing from a dead person, the horror of having ones life threatened, and the traumatising interruption – seeing mom crying as father [Jean-Michel Vovk] penetrates her – undoubtedly make it impossible for Ana to be intimate. Instead she get’s her kicks from stalking and claiming her own victims.

Her guilt of the childhood experience, disrespecting the dead, evading death, and interrupting life make her the hot mess she is. The life-sex-death circle is complete. Taking a Lacanic approach to the movie and his theory of “objet petit a” it could be fair to suggest that Ana is metaphorically murdering her father for causing that “pain” her mother experienced in the first act.

Without competition, Amer is one of the most visually stunning movies in a long time, but be aware - this isn’t a movie for a lazy audience, this is a movie that you need to pay attention to whilst watching. It may seem to be random imagery, but observing and taking in what you see will lead you to the conclusion. Much like watching early Giallo movies. You think you know where it’s going but you will never be prepared for the next surprise that comes your way. Not until the final moment will you be able to read the movie and gain the insight you are looking for.

Amer - suggestive, surreal and seductive, a honey-coated mindfuck – it probes deep and thrusts hard. With this movie Hélène Cattet & Bruno Forzani definitely have created a fascinating art-house genre piece that reaches the top of the scale. But the major question is where do they go from here?

Extras:

On the BluRay you can find the four short movies directed by Hélène Cattet & Bruno Forzani. These four short movies obviously play as a breeding ground for the style, and themes that later would become Amer. There's also the theatrical trailer and teaser.

Now tell me that the juxtaposition below was unintentional...

Four Flies on Grey Velvet

Four Flies on Grey Velvet.Original Title: 4 mosche di velluto grigio
Directed by: Dario Argento
Italy/France, 1971
Giallo, 102 min
Distributed by: Mya Communication

It’s been said that Dario Argento used to find inspiration for his moves in the books and newspapers he read. The smallest little article could generate a series of thoughts that would finally develop into a full-fledged movie. This may be true, but the newspaper article that laid the basis for the title of Four Flies on Grey Velvet is even for Gialli standards pretty far fetched, although on the other side modern technology – even if pretty imaginative and fabulous – is sometimes quite important to the Gialli and fills it purpose.

Argento’s third movie; Four Flies on Grey Velvet, is somewhat of a curiosity amongst his works, because it is one of his coldest of his movies, focusing on a more distanced voyeurism and almost holding the audience at arms length and never really letting us get involved with the characters... and when we do it’s for the wrong one.

The third and final instalment of what is loosely referred to as the "Animal Trilogy" sees rock musician Robert Tobias [Michael Brandon who later narrated kid’s show Thomas the Tank Engine for several years] being stalked by an odd character. Roberto has had enough and decides to follow the man instead, and his path leads him into an abandoned theatre. Inside the theatre a struggle takes place and Roberto accidentally stabs the man, who falls dead to the ground. A masked figure sitting upon a balcony [played by co-screenwriter and assistant director Luigi Cozzi] photographs the “accident” and starts torturing Robert by mailing pieces of information about the dead mans identify to him as to show that he knows that Robert is a murderer. Robert's wife Nina [Mimsy Farmer] and his friend Godfrey [Carlo Pedersoli under his more common name Bud Spencer] are the only people who he can trust, so he confides in them. But when the taunting continues and his maid is murdered too, Roberto hires private detective Gianni Arrosio [Jean-Pierre Marielle] to help him solve the case and find the blackmailer… Then the murders start piling up, and a piece of sci-fi technology can take photographs of the last image seen by the latest victim which finally tightens the noose round the neck of the killer.

Four Flies on Grey Velvet is in every possible way an improvement to the previous Il gatto a nove code (The Cat O’Nine Tails) 1971; the fancy camerawork is back, the pacing is back, the narrative flows forth like clockwork, archetypical Argento characters are back more clearly, and there’s a very clear personal involvement in the quest that makes it more engaging than the previous movie.

But there is one thing that makes Four Flies on Grey Velvet such an enigma within the Argento universe – Roberto Tobias. Roberto isn’t much of a likeable protagonist. He’s a pretty shallow and unlikeable guy. He’s not really interested in busting the mystery, only clearing his name, that’s why he refuses to go to the cops. He is also is unfaithful to his gorgeous wife with her cousin Dalia [Francine Racette] in the same instance that she leaves town which definitely harms his character, and pushes his arc down into the negative realm. It’s an odd approach because it also makes it difficult to indentify or sympathise with the leading man – whom the movie after all is supposed to be about. So instead when the killer’s identity is revealed – in one hell of an impressive performance – it’s easier to take sides with that character instead. Which is kinda confusing, but then again if you know the ending, you will understand why I think that this was intentional of Argento. Having finally presented us with an unfortunate character to empathise with, there’s still the shocking ending to pack a final punch, and a shock ending it is.

Being the bookend of the “trilogy” it’s easy to look upon these three movies as the breeding ground for Dario Argento’s traits. Everything that is good with these first movies is what developed the attributes that would build the magnificent stem and style of Profondo Rosso, the unchallenged masterpiece of Dario Argento’s Gialli. It’s even possible that the progressive rock band that Roberto plays in served as an influence after Morricone and Argento fell out with each other and Argento needed to search elsewhere to score Profondo Rosso. As you probably know Profondo Rosso contains that fabulous score by Italian rockers Goblin and doesn’t have a typical classic score like previous Gialli.

Already in the opening title sequence the style of Argento is hurled back upon the viewer as we see the camera being forced into seemingly impossible locations; inside a guitar, on the neck and so on. The opening sequence also sets up the mysterious bloke, Carlo Marosi [Calisto Calisti] who is stalking Roberto and get’s us right into the mood for what is to follow. As soon as the opening titles are through – with that great beating heart image – the plot kicks in. Roberto follows the man stalking him and in a scene prevailing Terror at the opera, the red velvet curtains leading into the womblike orifice that is scene of the initial crime, and the show is on the go. Much like the two previous films, Four Flies on Grey Velvet is all about interpreting what our senses let us experience. In L'uccello dalle piume di cristallo (Bird with the Crystal Plumage) 1970, its all about what Sam Dalmas thought he saw, in The Cat O’Nine Tails it’s all about what Franco Arno thought he heard and in Four Flies on Grey Velvet, it’s all about what Roberto Tobias though he experienced – because you know there’s a twist in there don’t you.

Just like The Cat O’Nine Tails there’s a very limited use of conventional gloved hands and straight razors. Although there is one shot of a razor just before the killer takes to the park to kill Roberto and Nina’s maid Amelia [Marisa Fabbri], and that leads elegantly up to the scene where it starts to become apparent that in Dario Argento’s world it’s never enough with just a simple murder. There has to be some element of squeamishness in there to get under the skin of the audience too. Even though we never actually see Amelia being killed, we do see a shot of her fingers scraping the concrete wall as the nails burst off all over the place, a very nauseating assault on our senses as most of us hate that sound of nails scraping against rough surfaces. When Dahlia later falls victim to the killer, she’s not only murdered, she’s first slashed across the forehead, then pushed down a flight of stairs, the camera follows as her head bangs into each step with a loud bash, bash, bash. Then the knife goes in. There are no simple deaths in Argento’s movies, and it’s a trait that he started using here in these initial movies and stuck with for many of the movies to follow.

And while I’m on that murder of Dalia, I have to point out that this scene is one of my favourite Argento scenes. I love how he used the silence of the attic, the pending threat of the killer being in the house, and then that aggressive burst of audio as the phone rings. It’s a fantastic little scene that easily makes it into the top ten of best suspense and shock moments in Argento’s movies.

Common for the Gialli are, flashbacks or surreal dreams that are significant for the narrative. There are two such devices used in Four Flies on Grey Velvet, the back-story of the murderer which is explored by both visual flashbacks of an asylum and through audio, as we hear a parent scolding a child for not being what he wanted it to be – and when you know, check out the killer’s clothing. Apparently the killer never quite got over the childhood abuse as it still dresses in the clothing of the gender that the parent wanted it too be. Then there’s the metaphoric execution that reoccurs in the dreams of Roberto. It’s both a symbol of his brewing guilt, and a symbolic prediction of things to come. Crime does not pay, and in the case of extremes one can loose ones head.

The cast - well, I don’t really see the similarity between Michael Brandon and Dario Argento that others seem to find, and it takes more than appearance for me to see what the supposed autobiographical connection is. But I do feel that Brandon kind of sells the part and is a pretty decent leading man, even if he’s a pretty boring and passive one. Which obviously leads to the stunning Mimsy Farmer. Farmer has in my opinion never acted or looked better at any other point in time than in Argento’s Four Flies on Grey Velvet. She’s absolutely gorgeous here, and undoubtedly one of my favourite Dario Argento leading ladies. I also find great sympathy for the fascinating character of Gianni Arrosio. I’d completely forgotten all about the constant recurrent gay characters in Argento’s movies until Ninja Dixon pointed this out on his eminent blog a few weeks back, and sure as said, here’s a gay character once again. But this time the character is not as much of a caricature but more of an authentic and effective character, even though he does manage to have a little flirtatious meeting with another gay bloke during his investigation. Arrosi is a fascinating character that has a great character arc, as he, despite never solving a case, is full of optimism and hope. It’s quite a moving scene when he finally succeeds to figure out whom the killer is but doesn’t live long enough to see the rewards of his actions. Ironically dies in a restroom, pumped full of poison distributed by the killer. As he fades away he congratulates himself on solving the mystery. Keep your eyes open for yet another appearance by Fulvio Mingozzi in the movie, this time as a studio engineer.

As for the technical bits of this flick, well needless to say Franco Di Giacomo’s cinematography is certainly up to Argento standards, and the script by Argento, Cozzi and Mario Foglietti is intriguing, although I’m not convinced that the withheld approach to the leading man was the right way to go. Foglietti would later write and direct one of the best parts for Argento’s TV serial La porta sul buio (Door Into Darkness), with the episode La Bambola (The Doll) 1973. For reasons unknown, Ennio Morricone and Argento  had a falling out during the production which may have affected the score. The lead theme is certainly ferocious and groovy, but the rest – and there’s not much – is mainly varaitons on the theme and never really stands out as their earlier collaborations. But it's still a great score, albeit a weaker one, and it is possible that Argento had to make do with what he had been given.

So summing up the “animal” trilogy, it sees the traits of Dario Argento come into shape. The pacing, the symbolism and the visual style are sternly constructed within these three movies. It’s the last of the Morricone soundtracks, although they would work again twenty-five years later on La syndrome di Stendhal (The Stendhal Syndrome) 1996. It certainly is a suite that establishes the style, traits and atmosphere of the classic Dario Argento Giallo, one that soon would peak with the magnificent Profondo Rosso (Deep Red) 1975, but first Argento was to venture into TV serials La porta sul buio and the historic comedy Le cinque giornate (The Five Days) 1973.

Image:
2.35:1 (16x9 anamorphic)

Audio:
Dolby Digital Mono. English dialogue, although Italian in reinserted scenes where English subtitles are available.

Extras:
Alternative English opening and end credits, Original trailers, poster and photo gallery.

Here's a few American trailers...