Not long after inn landlady Veronica first appeared on-screen, it became abundantly clear to me that she was barking mad, making her more than likely responsible for the series of vicious open razor murders that ensued. If it turned out that she wasn't the killer, then director León Klimovsky would be a master of deception on a par with Alfred Hitchcock (whose classic Psycho was clearly the blueprint for this film).
As I suspected, Klimovsky is no Hitchcock.
Veronica, played by lovely Ágata Lys, is easier on the eye than Norman Bates, but no less loopy, bumping off her less respectable guests in bloody fashion with the same razor that she used to do in her husband, whose persona she subsequently adopts to kill. The only occupant of the inn who she doesn't target is Daniel (Heinrich Starhemberg), a chubby, balding writer with a weak chin and terrible fashion sense to whom she takes a shine (for some inexplicable reason, he is quite the fanny magnet). Will Daniel discover the truth about Veronica before she can turn her razor on his wife Elena (Sandra Alberti), who turns up at the inn looking for her hubby?
WIth the plot providing very little in the way of genuine mystery, Klimovsky peps up his movie with plenty of mean-spirited violence (the murders aren't all that convincing, employing one of those props that squirts bright red blood from the blade, but they are still quite nasty in tone) and a fair amount of sleaze, nudity and sex: the lovely Lys gets nekkid, as does Alberti, with extra T&A from Irene Foster as pretty backpacker Anna, and Isabel Pisano as busty hooker Eva. Less appealing is the sight of Starhemberg's naked thrusting butt as he gets it on with his wife.
Trauma is a long way from a top tier giallo, but the pace is snappy and the performances fun, while the trashiness of the whole thing ensures an entertaining enough time for fans of the genre.
6.5/10, rounded up to seven for the excess of wonderfully tasteless wood panelling at the inn.
