LURID SCREAMS of DEATH: The Giallo Goblin Blog

Richard Chamberlin makes for an amiable hero in this idiosyncratic, Canadian shocker. He plays Nat Bridger, an idealistic, ecologically aware lecturer who eventually discovers through diligent investigation, somewhat incredulously, that a nefarious individual has manufactured a monstrous device that turns the once prosaic phone into a conduit of agonizing death. Includes nice support from John Houseman as his crotchety mentor, whose amenable exterior may conceal ulterior motives. ‘Bells’ might seem to have an entirely implausible premise, but nonetheless manages to coalesce into an efficient, and highly entertaining, early 80’s horror; which is lent considerable verisimilitude by, Chamberlin’s earnest performance. ‘Bells’ comes highly recommended.

Surprisingly effective and brawny trans-global thriller from the gonzoid producer, Menahem Golan. ‘Uranium Conspiracy’ is a zippy actioner fortified by a muscular performance from, Fabio Testi, who generally excels at cutting a svelte dash whilst slapping the bejesus outta folk; and the testosterone-fulled Testi gets to slap the mouldering christ out of all manner of sweaty creepo’s as the pulp script approaches its breathless, exhilarating climax. A rollicking yarn that not only proves that, Golan was a competent director but also cements Testi’s position as one of the more charismatic rough an’ tumble leading men of the 70’s; and I genuinely feel a retrospective of his  dashing heroics is well overdue. ‘Uranium Conspiracy’ comes highly recommended and would be a perfect companion piece to a sedentary night in with a robust claret and a boozy clutch of euro-cult obsessives.    

Future Hollywood big bollocks, Jonathan Kaplan reveals his nascent talent as a proficient director with this briskly-paced vigilante road movie. ‘White Line Fever’ is not so much ‘Walking Tall’ as ‘Driving Tall’ and a youthful Jan Michael Vincent is surprisingly effective as a shotgun-wielding, Joe Don Baker vigilante man; a vengeance-seeking independent trucker who’s very life is threatened by the evil machinations of a marvelously malevolent L.Q. Jones. ‘White Line Fever’ is a riotous, tarmac-searing monster that really delivers the requisite crash an’ burn overkill one expects from the genre

With the belated rise in popularity of Asian exploitation; towering grindhouse icon, Cirio H. Santiago has become somewhat of a bona fide underground cinematic hero; this is due in no small part to his series of low-budget, high-octane post Apocalyptic actioners; gonzoid entertainments that did exceptionally well during home video boom of the 80’s and are still . The doyen of post holocaust automotive Armageddon, Santiago perfected the machismo-soaked iconography of swarthy, leather-clad heroics where dusty, embattled muscle cars, festooned with gaudy Motley Crue accoutrements blazed a furious trail of carnage across a noxious, corrupted landscape, where brutality and automotive prowess were the only viable remaining currency. Santiago directed these dystopian vistas with their crimson-hued skyline, mottled by the choking dust of deathly radioactivity with great gusto; so it came as no great surprise to discover that his earlier title, and wildly entertaining revenger, ‘Fighting Mad’ (aka) ‘Death Force’ was by no means an impoverished backwoods cousin to his better known PA extravaganza’s. Brawny, James Inglehart is part of a roguish trio of opportunistic thugs and during a particularly frantic blag upon a yacht he is stabbed and left for dead in the midst of the briny sea. Being a purebred grindhouse classic, the film’s sole modus operandi is sanguineous revenge; and after washing up on a deserted island he is trained by two Japanese soldiers stranded there since the end of WW2; naturally we have to endure a little ham fisted cross cultural observations pre-chop sock, but swiftly, Santiago constructs some amusing training vignettes, while not on par with ’36 chambers of shaolin’ they prove to be an excellent aperitif before our vengeful black samurai (fortunately not the dire Al Adamson interpretation) replete with diamond-edged katana blade proceeds to exact a most furious and bloody revenge. Ostensibly ‘Fighting Mad’ is the timeless fable of a muscular, pissed of black man decapitating dumb fuck Mafiosi with a diamond edged katana blade..so what’s not to like?       

Wonderfully lurid giallo with euro-cult legend, Fabio Testi. The ubiquitous testi plays yet-another atypically hard-nosed, libidinous detective, gianni di salvo. In this briskly-paced giallo, di salvo attempts to unravel the enigmatic motives behind a particularly brutal series of sexually motivated killings with an excess of gritty, inebriate resolve. Similar in tone and execution to Massimo Dallamano’s equally exploitative and profoundly marvelous ‘what have they done to your daughters’; ‘rings of fear’ is a wildly entertaining entry in the gaudy cannon of sensationalist 70’s italian sinema; giallo/thriller fans should find this zesty, prurient mélange of garish misogyny and gratuitous nudity, an entirely worthwhile viewing experience

Utterly sublime and deliciously enigmatic gialli from a true master of the stylish, psychological thriller, luigi ‘fifth cord’ bazzoni. an emotive, beguiling and confounding giallo with a central performance of considerable élan by the entrancing, Florinda Balkan. ‘Footprints on The Moon’ is an ethereal, visually dazzling, thought-provoking mystery with truly dazzling photography from the maestro of the anamorphic lens, vittorio storaro; his lush, high-contrast compositions evoke a dreamlike and genuinely immersive vista which coupled with Nicola Piovani’s emotive yet subtle score makes for a nightmarishly atmospheric journey into the troubled, paradoxical mindscape of our troubled heroine, alice carlos (Balkan). an effective, albeit minor cameo from the perpetually manic, Klaus Kinski adds much to the delirious non sequitur that is the delightful ‘Footprints On The Moon’. Sheer gialli brilliance!   

‘Death Steps In The Dark’ finaly has a pristine transfer, sound and picture are crystal clear.  Excellent giallo from Maurizio Pradeaux. While his ‘death carries a cane’ is better known, I found this 1977 outing to be far more entertaining than the latter. Not only do you get the requisite full-frontal nudity ubiquitous in the genre (inc. a splendidly gratuitous Sapphic montage near the opening of the film!) the film has a light, comedic touch not generally found within the idiom; so amongst al the black-gloved, razor-wielding frenzy (the murders are considerably full-blooded) the film is leavened by a clearly sardonic tone, which, while admittedly far-from subtle, adds a viable quirky sheen to the generally humourless genre. graphic razor-slashings, gratuitous nudity, plentiful guzzles of j&b (the veritable elixir of Italian exploitation!) and a mesmerizing, booty-humpin’ jazz-funk score by riz ortolani makes ‘death steps in the dark’ one of the more memorable and re-watchable gialli. Whether or not the film was specifically designed as a giallo parody doesn’t detract from the more lurid pleasures gialli are infamous for; since ‘death steps in the dark’ makes for such a serviceable, briskly-paced, sanguineous whodunit.    

‘Death occurred last Night’ is an absolutely cracking giallo that neatly avoids many of the generic pitfalls and develops into a very immersive, deeply moving, intelligent thriller. One of the more adult, literate and more rewarding gialli that generates fabulous entertainment from start to its exhilarating, emotive climax. ‘Death occurred last Night’ is emphatically not to be missed! (Gianni Ferrio’s sublime, evocative soundtrack is one of his very best.)

Jean-Louis Trintignant’s character finds himself at the centre of a bizarre conundrum, an idiosyncratic thriller laden with obscure Freudian motifs, art house posturing, and bravura camera styling’s; but it’s the film’s gleeful lack of conformity that engenders ‘Death laid An Egg’ with such a rabid cult following. While the film contains the requisite murder, squabbling in-laws, micro-skirted dolly birds, and  it is a giallo in only the broadest sense, as Guigli’s aesthetic is far more oblique and cerebral than the average black gloves of death approach. Naturally, thriller convention plays a part here, but it cowers betwixt layer-upon-layer of psychedelic absurdity. ‘Morte Ha fatto L’uovo’ might be a Bunuel-esque satire of middle-class malaise and big business avarice, but in point of fact this glorious oddity remains too enigmatic for simple reductionism, and remains forever that most precious of cinematic artifacts a genuine cult movie deserving of the highest praises indeed

Another splendid gialli from the master of sexual intrigue Umberto Lenzi. Many say that this is inferior to his ‘Orgasmo’ (1969) but it many ways I find it to be of equal merit. Righteous lounge-core soundtrack and another winning performance from one of the true divas of gialli, Carrol Baker. Yet again, Baker suffers at the hands of a scheming; cock sure male; this time a particularly suave and dashing Marc Porel; a man seemingly born to wear pastel v-neck sweaters. His preference for Val Donican’s wardrobe does little to mute his excellent performance as a Machiavellian, libidinous, uber-playboy, which is exemplary; making the twist-laden ‘a quiet place to kill’  a must see for Lenzi-Gialli-Baker fans.