Did I mention that I went to (most of) Italy last year? If I did not, it’s because I’m relatively quiet on most social media sites. I swear I will upload the photos and videos from the whole trip sooner than later. Anyways, why am I mentioning this? Well, when we visited Rome, I was lucky enough to strongarm several family members into visiting “Profondo Rosso,” which is a hidden gem of a memorabilia store owned by famed Italian director Dario Argento. It’s an extremely cool place to peruse if you’re even remotely into horror, science fiction, or just popular culture that’s a bit too “odd” for most people. Plus, the basement contains a number of props from Argento’s pictures! Anyways, I just wanted to gush for a bit before we talk about a few films that I’ve never seen until this year (all of which hail from, well, Italy).
Inferno is a thematic and spiritual successor to Dario’s breakthrough masterpiece Suspiria, and it seems to have always been stuck in a weird spot between that flick and 1982’s impressive bloodbath known as Tenebre. It is the second installment in what the director has dubbed his “Three Mothers” trilogy (1977’s Suspiria is the first, 2007’s Mother of Tears is the third). Each one deals with a titular “mother” determined to rule the world while using powerful dark magic to eliminate anyone who would stand in their way. The plot has us following several characters, two of whom have taken interest in a strange book titled The Three Mothers, which tells of three evil sisters who would conquer all with sadness, tears, and darkness. When one of the main characters goes missing, their brother comes to New York City to investigate. That is about the easiest way to describe the plot to Inferno, because while I did find it to be an overall very enjoyable watch, it is a messier product than most of Argento’s other works from the 1970s and beyond. There is a strong insistence on killing newly introduced characters WAY too quickly (including longtime Argento collaborator Daria Nicolodi), and the final act feels a bit silly in spots. Still, much like most releases in the giallo genre, it is a beautiful film to look at and has style oozing out of every pore. There are some legitimately spooky moments throughout (in particular, an underwater swimming scene that I suspect must have been incredibly stressful to film) and some expectedly wicked and dastardly kills that while not as extravagant as those seen in the likes of Tenebre, Opera, or Deep Red, are still quite the sight to behold (cat lovers beware of one scene though). Surprisingly, longtime Argento collaborators and music composers Goblin are absent from Inferno’s soundtrack, with the director choosing noteworthy progressive rock musician Keith Emerson (of Emerson, Lake & Palmer) to compose the score. Reportedly, he wanted something different this time around so as to keep this feeling separate from Suspiria. I must admit that the bombastic and proto-symphonic metal “Mater Tenebrarum” is undeniably AWESOME, but the rest of the score is a real mixed bag or too chaotic for something that’s considerably toned down compared to this director’s other efforts.
It's far from Dario Argento’s best work, but despite it
being a bit messy, Inferno is still a wonderfully weird 80s gem that
should do quite well with fans of more supernatural-based horror flicks and
with those looking to get into horror pictures from across the pond. I don’t
plan on finishing the “Three Mothers” trilogy this year, but perhaps it could
make the list next time. Unless we’re all dead by this time next year. That’s
always a possibility.
When it comes to expressing my feelings on 1981’s Italian
exploitation flick Cannibal Ferox (known as Make Them Die Slowly in
the west), I feel as though Google Translate is the best way to sum it
up: “Se ti rende felice, allora
sono felice per te.” Nearly
every time I’ve been recommended adding a picture from the “cannibal” subgenre
of horror to my queue and/or Unseen Terror rough drafts, it usually results in
massive disappointment, if not outright frustration. Occasionally I’ll discover
a pleasant surprise such as Ravenous or Bone Tomahawk (though the
latter’s classification is tenuous at best), but usually it matters not if your
project is grimy or glossy; I just don’t vibe with them. I was hoping that
perhaps in the wake of the genre’s most notorious release (the prior year’s
infamous Cannibal Holocaust), rival filmmakers would have some sense of
morality and try not to repeat some of the ghastly acts from years prior. I was
an idiot to think such a thing would happen.
While a lot more
straightforward than director Ruggero Deodado’s Cannibal Holocaust, writer/director
Umberto Lenzi’s Cannibal Ferox is also pretty icky in its own right, but
also just flatout badly made. For all of the disdain I have for Deodado’s flick,
I’ll give it credit for being a better structured picture as a whole and
helping to introduce the concept of “found footage” to the general public
before most other movies did decades later. Ferox though? Well, its plot
is significantly less interesting (a very dumb skeptic drags two friends with
her to Colombia to prove that cannibalism is a myth. Things don’t go well) and
it has these extremely jarring and quite frankly irritating cuts back to the
states while our “heroes” are in peril on another continent. It disrupts the
mood and forces you to also watch some horribly sexist and violent scenes
towards women. When we’re back to Colombia, we bear witness to something that Ferox
has in common with Holocaust, which is a bunch of real, on-screen
animal killings. I have now seen two films with live turtle dismemberment, and
that is two films too many. I know I might sound like a hypocrite
considering that I am an omnivore but filming real animal mauling and killings for
the sake of making your movie feel more “intense” or for “art” is scummy
behavior. Hell, supporting actor Giovanni Lombardo Radice refused to
participate in the killing of a wild pig on camera (with them using a double to
complete the scene) and went on record expressing his disgust for even being in
the flick itself. There’s also extraordinarily poor dubbing (not completely
uncommon in Italian horror), but it is unbelievably bad here. If you were to
take a shot for how many times someone calls a woman a “twat,” you would be
dead before the halfway mark. Still, I suppose I CAN give Cannibal Ferox credit
for two particularly good things: it has a shockingly good score (more
pulsating and groovier than the moody, eerie one heard in Cannibal Holocaust),
and the special effects & gore are solid. Still, two rights do not make up
for several wrongs, and when your wrongs just feel so repugnant, I can’t fully
recommend your movie to anyone other than a very niche audience. I don’t expect
to be revisiting this one again unless I’m paid to.
I’ve been meaning to get more into the cinematic works of famed
Italian maestro Mario Bava for quite some time. While I’ve only ever seen Black
Sunday and Black Sabbath, both of those are quite grand and when I
heard that his 1964 effort Blood and Black Lace is one of the earliest
entries in the giallo genre (this + Bava’s prior effort The Girl Who Knew
Too Much are considered to be the first two flicks in the genre as a whole),
I knew I had to watch it before I leave this mortal coil. Besides, after the
taste that Cannibal Ferox left in my mouth, something had to be done.
The plot concerns a series of brutal murders of a fashion house’s beauty models, all of whom seem to be the victim of a masked killer in search of a diary that contains unknown details and personal stories that the staff most likely don’t want revealed to the public. Mind you, that isn’t giving anything away about Blood and Black Lace’s overall story, but the picture goes into enough weird directions and feels slightly overstuffed with characters that I feel like it’s about as simple of a one that I could come up with. If I could describe this film in two simple words, it would be “visually sinister.” I’m always in amazement with what these kinds of movies back in the day could do with color palettes, as even with a more grounded and far less supernatural-based story, the contrast in visual tones makes the world in which this is set in feel otherworldly. How is it that directors from overseas manage to make you wonder how you see the color red so differently than you’ve seen in your entire life? What I’m trying to say is that Blood and Black Lace, despite being quite an old release, looks beautiful and better than a lot of bigger budget horror releases dumped into theaters by the likes of, say, Blumhouse. It’s also a decidedly nefarious flick; it obviously lacks the over-the-top imagery of future Italian horror filmmakers such as Dario Argento and Lucio Fulci, but this is still one hell of a mean movie. I felt so terrible for the actresses here, as their characters are just dealt the kind of punishment that I’m almost certain inspired future Western filmmakers in the genre and could make some 80s slashers take notes. Even in its quiet moments, Bava can instill a sense of dread in the viewer that leaves you morbidly curious for what could come about next. It’s so good that it almost makes you forget the strangely anticlimactic twist in its third act and how awkward some of the dubbing is (I’d personally love to track this down in its native language). Still, those are minor complaints about what I think is otherwise a solid movie.
If you have an appreciation for the genre and wish to expand your horizons in horror, give Blood and Black Lace a watch. There’s a reason why so many filmmakers (including Martin Scorsese!) have cited it as one of their absolute favorite pieces of cinema, with some even going so far as to pay homage to it in their own films. I don’t normally encourage this but pour yourself a glass of something classy like wine or McDonald’s Sprite and enjoy the ride. And if you find yourself in Rome, go hit up "Profondo Rosso." Tell them Ryan sent you. They don't know me, but it'll help boost my morale.
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