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lørdag 9. mars 2013

La casa de las muertas vivientes



Spain/Italy, 1972

Directed by Alfonso Balcazar

Cast:
José Antonio Amor, Daniela Giordano, Nuria Torray, Teresa Gimpera, Gioia Desideri, Osvaldo Genazzani, Alicia Tomás, Carlo Gentili


It recently dawned on me that for the longest time I’ve been reviewing nothing but Italian movies here, even though there are so many strange and wonderful films from Spain, France, Germany etc out there that are equally worthy of rediscovery. So to make amends I have taken a closer look at the forgotten Spanish thriller La casa de las muertas vivientes.

The plot deals with Oliver Bromfield (José Antonio Amor), a handsome but alcoholized young aristocrat who is haunted by the tragic death of his wife Helen (Gioia Desideri). Unable to continue living in the large country mansion he had shared with Helen, Oliver leaves his home in an attempt to forget the past. But he hasn’t been away very long before he finds a new love, the sweet and sexy Ruth (Daniela Giordano), whom he promptly marries. Suddenly, Oliver decides it would be a good idea to move back to his old house and build a new life together with Ruth.


The newlyweds


Ruth is excited about moving into a new home but she’s a bit disappointed to discover that Oliver’s huge mansion is far more secluded than she had pictured. Things aren’t made any better by the fact that she is given a decidedly chilly welcome by Sarah (Nuria Torray), the widow of Oliver’s father. Oliver’s stepmom is actually not that much older than him, and she greets him with an inappropriately passionate kiss on the cheek while giving poor Ruth the evil eye. Sarah is also quick to point out that today is the anniversary of Helen’s death, which visibly upsets Oliver.




Stepmom marks her territory


It quickly transpires that Sarah is madly in love with her stepson and she’s terribly jealous of Ruth. At day, she tries her best to drive Ruth and Oliver apart, and at night she spies on their lovemaking through a secret hole in the wall – obscured by a pendulum clock.




I spy with my little eye...


Also living in the house is Oliver’s sister Jenny (Teresa Gimpera), a reclusive painter and sculptor, who – like Sarah – takes an instant dislike to Ruth. Not for the same reasons, however. Jenny, we learn, had been carrying on a lesbian affair with Helen, and she hates the idea of someone else taking over Helen’s role as the lady of the house.



Jenny laments the loss of her lesbian lover


Poor Ruth doesn’t exactly feel very welcome in the house, and things quickly go from bad to worse as Oliver starts being haunted by memories of his dead wife. He’s drinking heavily and at night he has nightmares about Helen’s mysterious death from falling down the stairs. In his sleep he even shouts out that “I didn’t mean to kill her!”




Oliver has recurring nightmares about Helen’s death


Naturally, all of this has Ruth getting pretty worried. Oliver has told her that Helen fell because she was suffering from a series of dizzy spells but she soon learns from Helen’s physician, Dr. Roberts (Carlo Gentili), that Helen had no history of dizziness. As Ruth continues to look into Helen’s death, strange things start happening to her. Clearly, there is someone who doesn’t want the truth about Helen’s death to be revealed. Could it be that Oliver killed his wife because he was jealous of her lesbian affair with Jenny? Or was it the obsessively jealous Sarah who wanted Oliver all to herself? Or could the suspiciously acting Jenny be responsible?




Who’s the killer?


La casa de las muertas vivientes is a thoroughly obscure little Spanish-Italian co-production and there appear to be very few people who have heard about it – much less actually seen it. The film was released under a series of different titles in Spain and Italy – none of which suit it particularly well. The original Spanish title translates to ‘The House of the Living Dead’, which is highly inappropriate as this is by no means a zombie film, and it never really pursues any supernatural angle either. The Italian title Una tomba aperta... Una bara vuota – i.e. ‘An Open Tomb... An Empty Coffin’, the title used by most of the bootleggers who sell it – is just as unsuitable because the film features neither opened tombs nor empty coffins, or any other kind of beyond the grave shenanigans for that matter. The alternate Italian title Il cadavere di Helen non mi dava pace – i.e. ‘Helen’s Cadaver Gives Me No Peace’ – is probably the most suitable since Oliver being haunted by memories of Helen’s death is a vital part of the plot, but it still hints at a type of film that this certainly isn’t.


Stylish newspaper ad under the film’s alternate Italian title


The misleading and inappropriate titles are probably part of the reason why most of the people who have actually seen the film react negatively to it. Anyone expecting to see some kind of zombie movie or ghost story will be sorely disappointed, and those seeking a flashy and gory Argento-style giallo will not get their money’s worth either. It is important to point out that even though this was an Italian co-production, it is ostensibly a Spanish film, and like many other Spanish productions, La casa de las muertas vivientes is more rustic and old-fashioned in appearance than its stylized Italian counterparts. Giallo elements are certainly present – with a knife-wielding, black-gloved killer coming into play in the last third – but these seem like more of an afterthought and the film draws more on Hitchcock’s Rebecca (1940) than it does on Argento. I think the best way to describe the film is like a deliberately paced Spanish psycho-drama with a gialloesque final third. If you approach it as such, you are more likely to appreciate the film.

With that said, La casa de las muertas vivientes is still a problematic film in many ways. The story is credited to the director, Euro-western expert Alfonso Balcazar, and José Ramón Larraz, the Spanish director famous for his British-made horror films Scream and Die! (1973), Symptoms (1974) and Vampyres (1974). This appears to have been the first Spanish film Larraz worked on and the plot features several of his characteristic traits, including the secluded country house setting, repressed sexual desires, and intense claustrophobic relationships. It’s just too bad that Larraz didn’t write the actual screenplay, which was instead penned by Balcazar and Italian Eurospy scribe Giovanni Simonelli. Unfortunately, neither of them appear to feel quite at home within the thriller format. Saving all of the killings for the final third is fair enough, but a few more suspense sequences scattered throughout the first two thirds would definitely not have hurt. As it is, the film is too talky and generously paced to keep the interest up for the duration of the film. It must be said, though, that the occasionally waning interest has just as much – if not more – to do with the characters. Oliver is a pretty boring protagonist, and José Antonio Amor’s blank and inexpressive performance fails to ignite any sort of interest for the character. Daniela Giordano on the other hand is perfectly fine in the role of Ruth but the character is so poorly written and developed that it is hard to become particularly invested in her.

The only really interesting characters are Oliver’s sister and stepmother. These sexy and constantly chain-smoking figures are better fleshed out and their dark and mysterious nature makes them very intriguing. They are also very well played, with the always welcome Teresa Gimpera – a familiar face from numerous interesting Spanish-Italian horrors including The Feast of Satan (1971) and Night of the Devils (1972) – giving a wonderful performance as the mysterious lesbian sister who is obsessed by the memory of her dead lover. However, the show is stolen by the sensuous Nuria Torray, who is absolutely terrific as the unbalanced and obsessively jealous Sarah. She’s very sexy in the scenes which require her to act catty or seductive, but Torray is at her very best when she gets to tackle the sinister sides of the character. Her obsessive spying on Oliver and Ruth through the peephole is a good example but the best part is when she has a warped fantasy in which she stabs a sleeping Ruth to death, pushes her out of the bed, wipes her bloody hands on her nightgown and then jumps into the bed to resume Ruth’s place next to Oliver. Torray comes across as thoroughly disturbed and creepy in these scenes, but at the same time she is able to convey a truly heartfelt desperation, which renders the character somewhat pitiful too.



Nuria Torray is fabulous as the disturbed stepmother


Technical credits are solid – boasting some attractive cinematography and art direction, as well as a fine score by Italian composer Piero Piccioni – but the most memorable aspect to the film is its atmosphere. Balcazar successfully imbues the story with an air of morbidness as all of the characters seem obsessed in one way or the other with the death of Helen. The more perverse material in the plot is expertly handled, with the stylishly shot sequences detailing Sarah’s voyeurism coming across as delightfully twisted. Throughout the film there’s a strong aura of unease, repressed emotions and sexual tension seaming through the dysfunctional household and this keeps it all interesting even though if the plot progresses slowly.

In the last 30 minutes, the film finally goes into giallo mode as the cast starts getting picked off by a mysterious black-gloved killer who gorily slashes their throats. As I’ve already mentioned, this plot point seems like somewhat of an afterthought – presumably added at the insistence of the Italian co-producers. It undeniably shakes things up a bit and adds some welcome frisson to the proceedings but not all of the murders are quite successfully staged. It should also be mentioned that the identity of the killer is not too hard to figure out, and the rushed finale, which is more or less over and done with in a matter of seconds, is disappointing.




The horror kicks in during the final act


In spite of its obscurity La casa de las muertas vivientes is not too hard to get hold of but as of now there is no definite version available. A Spanish DVD was released by Filmax, and this release features a good-looking widescreen (albeit non-anamorphic) transfer of the film. The disc features no English options but has been made available in a fan-subbed version among collectors. It is unfortunate, however, that this is the version most people have been exposed to because it is far from an ideal way to watch the film. In the 1970s, the strict Spanish film censorship did not allow nudity, so Spanish productions from this era usually shot two versions of a film’s sexy scenes: a “clothed” one where the actors are covered up by nightgowns or underwear, and an “unclothed” one in which the actors get naked. The clothed variants were released in Spain, while the steamier unclothed versions would be exported to foreign markets with more relaxed censorship policies. The print of La casa de las muertas vivientes featured on the Filmax DVD is the Spanish version and – as expected – it is shorn of all nudity. A stronger version with nude scenes does exist, however, and was released in Italy but it has yet to receive any sort of DVD release. There is a TV rip in circulation, though, and while it is cropped, has a logo in the lower right corner and generally looks a lot less impressive than the Spanish DVD, it is still worth watching since it not only adds nudity but also entire scenes missing from the Spanish print. I have compared the two versions and here is an overview of the differences between the Spanish and Italian cuts of the film:


1. The Italian version obviously has credits in Italian – displaying the title Una tomba aperta... Una bara vuota in bold red letters. If you look closely, you’ll notice that the alternate title Il cadavere di Helen non mi dava pace is printed in smaller letters at the bottom of the screen.


The Italian title card


2. In the Italian cut, each murder is followed by a rapid montage of still shots of the various characters – clearly signaling them as possible suspects. This is a very unwelcome addition that looks cheesy and silly. It plays out much better in the Spanish version, which does not include these shots.


3. After the scene of Helen’s funeral, the Italian version features an extra pre-credits scene in which Oliver announces to Sarah that he’s moving out of the house, and she tries in vain to dissuade him from leaving. The scene runs 2 minutes and 26 seconds, and while it introduces Sarah’s feelings for Oliver at an earlier point than the Spanish version, it doesn’t really add anything new to the proceedings.



Extra scene between Oliver and Sarah


4. The lesbian relationship between Jenny and Helen is more explicit in the Italian version. The flashback scene where Oliver catches them together is very tame in the Spanish version – with Oliver walking in as Helen is merely caressing Jenny’s hair. In the Italian cut, however, Helen pulls down her nightgown to expose her breasts, and the two women press up against each other as Oliver suddenly walks in on them. This situation is a lot more compromising, and consequently Oliver’s angered reaction comes across as much more justified here than it does in the Spanish cut.


This is as steamy as it gets in the Spanish version




The extra naughty bits from the Italian version


5. The Italian version also includes an extra flashback scene between Jenny and Helen which is completely absent from the Spanish cut. In this scene, Helen strips naked and poses on a sofa while Jenny is painting a portrait of her. Helen says that she doesn’t love Oliver and that she only married him for his money. The scene only runs 1 minute and 35 seconds but is fairly important in that it puts Helen in a more negative light than in the Spanish version, and hence also makes Oliver more sympathetic.




Extra scene with Jenny and Helen


6. The scene where Sarah climbs into bed with a drunken Oliver and tries to seduce him is slightly longer in the Italian version, which includes an extra close-up shot of Oliver pulling down Sarah’s nightgown and fondling her breast.


This is as far as it goes in the Spanish version


Additional boob fondling shot from the Italian version


7. Another slight difference between the Spanish and Italian versions occurs in the scene where Sarah tries to entice Oliver by pulling down her dress to show him her bare breasts. In the Spanish cut we only see Sarah from behind and Oliver’s facial reaction, whereas the Italian cut includes a brief shot of her naked breasts. Sarah’s face and breasts never appear in the same shot, however, and it looks as if a body double may have been used for this scene.


How it looks in the Spanish cut


The brief frontal shot from the Italian cut


8. The final addition of nudity occurs in Sarah’s fantasy sequence where she stabs Ruth to death, pushes her out of the bed and climbs in to take her place next to Oliver. The Spanish version obviously does not feature any nudity but the Italian version features an extra shot with rear nudity as we see Sarah climbing into the bed.


Additional rear nudity from the Italian version


It must be mentioned that, surprisingly enough, the Italian and Spanish edits are actually not clothed and unclothed variants of the film. As I’ve already mentioned, the norm with such variants was to shoot the sexy scenes twice – with and without nudity – but the Spanish version of La casa de las muertas vivientes does not feature any kind of alternate scenes. Instead, it merely cuts out all of the nudity shown in the Italian version, and as such it is a censored version rather than a clothed one. Interestingly, there are several scenes where the actors are covered in both the Italian and Spanish versions, including the scene where Sarah spies on Oliver and Ruth making love, and Sarah fantasizing about stabbing Ruth. Indeed, Daniela Giordano and Teresa Gimpera stay fully clothed in both versions – with the majority of the nudity being performed by the sexy Italian actress Gioia Desideri, a minor starlet who was a regular presence in the violent Don Archer photo-novels and who also appeared in Fernando Di Leo’s sleazy giallo Slaughter Hotel (1971).


The fantasy stabbing is clothed in both the Spanish and Italian variants of the film


Daniela Giordano stays decent throughout the film but looks smashing nonetheless


Of course, the real question is whether or not the addition of the nude scenes makes La casa de las muertas vivientes a better film. Well, it doesn’t radically alter the film but it certainly spices it up a bit. Furthermore, the extra details of the lesbian relationship add a few interesting nuances that the film benefits from, and overall the Italian cut plays out better.

In sum, La casa de las muertas vivientes is an interesting little Spanish psycho-drama. It is slow and not always effective but the morbid atmosphere and Nuria Torray’s terrific performance work in its favor, and José Ramón Larraz fans will probably enjoy his contributions to the story. It isn’t a perfect film but it is definitely better than its reputation and well worth a look.


Update May 2013
A mere two months after this review was published, a hitherto unheard of English-dubbed version of the film appeared out of thin air. It’s identical to the stronger Italian cut of the film and bears the English title The Night of the Scorpion, which is just as unsuitable as the various Italian and Spanish titles. It’s a most welcome discovery, though, and English dubbing enthusiasts will be delighted by the presence of many familiar voice actors, including Frank Latimore (dubbing José Antonio Amor), Silvia Faver (dubbing Nuria Torray) and Edward Mannix (dubbing Osvaldo Genazzani).



© 2013 Johan Melle



The cast:


José Antonio Amor as Oliver


Daniela Giordano as Ruth


Nuria Torray as Sarah


Teresa Gimpera as Jenny


Gioia Desideri as Helen


Osvaldo Genazzani as Private Detective


Alicia Tomás as Clara, the maid


??? as Peter, the gardener


Carlo Gentili as Dr. Roberts


søndag 29. mai 2011

Reflections in Black/Il vizio ha le calze nere


Italy, 1975

Directed by Tano Cimarosa

Cast:
John Richardson, Dagmar Lassander, Tano Cimarosa, Magda Konopka, Ninetto Davoli, Ursula Davis, Gianni Williams, Giacomo Rossi Stuart, Livio Galassi, Dada Gallotti, Giovanni Brusatori, Giovanna D’Albore, Daniela Giordano



Reflections in Black is a giallo I’ve been aware of for quite some time but because the only known English-friendly release is a fullscreen Greek VHS with large chunks of footage missing due to print damage, I’ve kept holding off on seeing it. But once a fan version using a widescreen Spanish VHS as the image source and the English dub from the Greek release as the audio source became available I just had to jump on it. And while this version still looks rather grotty, it is at least in widescreen and around 10 minutes longer than the Greek tape. Plus it’s always nice to sit down with a “new” giallo.

The plot kicks off in classical giallo fashion – showing a mysterious killer in a dark coat and the ubiquitous black gloves roaming the dark streets. An unfortunate nightgown-clad girl named Nelly (Daniela Giordano) is savagely attacked with a razor when she opens the door for this mysterious person in black. In a desperate bid for escape, the bleeding girl flees screaming into the night. She manages to reach a phone booth but her attacker catches up with her and slashes her to death before she can call for help.

Not long afterwards, a ditzy blonde named Emma (Giovanna D'Albore) is having an amorous nighttime encounter with a lover in a park when she is attacked by the same black-gloved killer and gets her throat slashed open.



The killer’s handiwork


Inspector Lavena (John Richardson) is put on the case, and together with his assistant Sgt. Panto (played by the film’s director, Tano Cimarosa) he starts looking into the various people connected to the two victims. It turns out that Emma was the trusted secretary of a powerful and influential notary named Anselmi (Giacomo Rossi Stuart), and apparently she was also very chummy with Anselmi’s sexy wife Leonora (Dagmar Lassander). All the gory details of Leonora and Emma’s relationship are revealed to us by having Leonora gaze at an old photo of Emma, which triggers a long, gratuitous flashback scene of them engaged in some soft-focus lesbian lovemaking to the strains of Carlo Savina’s typically giallo-esque score full of lulling female vocals.


The obligatory lesbian action


Anyway, it soon transpires that the two murder victims knew each other as a photograph of them together is discovered. Also present in this photo is a third woman and two men, and while Inspector Lavena and Sgt. Panto work on trying to figure out who these people are, the audience learns that the third girl is a somewhat bitchy blonde named Marilyn (Dada Gallotti). Marilyn knows the identity of the killer and indulges in a dangerous game of blackmail – with predictable results.


A classic photographic clue



Those blackmailers just never learn, do they?


As the body count continues to rise, so does the list of potential suspects. In addition to the Anselmis there is also their nosy and horny lesbian maid; the mysterious Contessa Orsello (Magda Konopka), a predatory lesbian with ties to all of the victims; the Contessa’s pathetic, drug-addicted son Marco (Livio Galassi), who likes to threaten his mother’s mistresses with a razor; Marilyn’s lover Sandro (Pasolini favorite Ninetto Davoli), who shows a questionable interest in underage girls; and Mario (Giovanni Brusatori), a camp gay hairdresser whose salon the victims used to frequent.

By the time the movie is over, most of these characters will be dead and anyone but the most naïve and inexperienced giallo viewers will have guessed the killer’s identity long before the “shocking” reveal. First-time director Tano Cimarosa was a good, reliable tough guy actor and already had some experience with the giallo genre thanks to his memorable supporting part in Renato Polselli’s appropriately named Delirium (1972), but it’s obvious from the get-go that Cimarosa’s talent for directing is far less impressive. This is a strictly by-the-numbers affair that throws in all the usual giallo clichés and tries to spice up the brew by upping the sleaze factor. And if taken merely as a sleazy romp, Reflections in Black can actually be a lot of fun.

One of the most amusing things about the film is how Cimarosa uses it as a showcase for himself. Although British actor John Richardson – fresh from his giallo turns in Torso (1973) and Eyeball (1975) – is given prominent top-billing, Richardson’s police inspector is continuously overshadowed by Cimarosa’s sergeant, who proves himself to be much smarter than his superior time and time again. In fact, Cimarosa continues to upstage Richardson to the point where one wonders why he didn’t just cast himself in the lead, but I suppose he needed Richardson’s name to sell movie tickets.

What little thunder Richardson has left gets stolen by another cop on the case, the young and promising Manlio (played by Gianni Williams) and his girlfriend Anna (played by 1960s starlet Ursula Davis under her actual name Pier Anna Quaia), whose relationship is given an absurd amount of screen time. Anna is shown to be an awfully sassy girl who likes to wear see-through blouses that show off her nipples. “It’s a sexual revolution! Didn’t you know the girls burn their bras these days?” she chirps to Manlio when he protests. At one point she even endangers herself by deciding to play amateur detective – after which Manlio finally sets her straight by telling her to limit her crazy impulses to the bedroom or the supermarket from now on! Oh, the 1970s!


Cimarosa sets Richardson straight


Manlio and Anna occupy a fair amount of the film’s running time


Visually, Reflections in Black isn’t one of the better-looking gialli. It may be a tad unfair to judge its visuals on the basis of the generally crummy-looking versions that are currently available but aside from a few nice uses of reflective images there just aren’t that many stylish traits to be found here. Some of the sleazier moments actually look downright drab – especially a coarsely shot sex scene between Ninetto Davoli and Dada Gallotti that gives us a closer look at Davoli’s bouncing nut sack than what anybody really needs to see. This scene is made all the more hilarious because it is accompanied by an inappropriate Carlo Savina score that is much too classy to suit the tacky images on the screen. But while none of the general sleaziness on display is all that well-made it does add to the fun.


Ninetto Davoli displays the full range of his talents for our viewing pleasure


One of the many sleazy highlights


Apart from the fun that comes from watching Cimarosa muscling in on poor John Richardson, the film also benefits from having both Dagmar Lassander and Magda Konopka on hand as predatory lesbians. Obviously, the careers of both women had seen better days but they deliver what is expected of them and are definitely easy on the eyes.


Dagmar Lassander sporting an outfit almost exactly like the one she wore in The Iguana with the Tongue of Fire (1971)


Magda Konopka in action


Everyone else is somewhat wasted, though, from old pro Giacomo Rossi Stuart, who hardly registers as a screen presence in the role of Lassander’s cuckolded husband, to poor Daniela Giordano, who gets nothing more to do than show up and get killed (she doesn’t even have any dialogue).

Also worthy of mention is the presence of the usual crew of English dubbers – most notably the unmistakable tough guy voice of Edward Mannix dubbing Tano Cimarosa. It’s a great match as the voice fits Cimarosa’s look and the character’s hardball attitude perfectly. You’ll no doubt also recognize the other voice actors, including Carolynn De Fonseca (dubbing Dada Gallotti), Silvia Faver (dubbing Ursula Davis) and Frank von Kuegelgen (dubbing Gianni Williams).

While far from a great movie, Reflections in Black is nevertheless just about silly and sleazy enough to warrant a recommendation for giallo hounds. You might also want to check out Cimarosa’s second film as a director, the gritty crime flick Death Hunt (1977), which is even more sleazy and enjoyable.



© 2011 Johan Melle



The cast:


John Richardson as Inspector Lavena


Dagmar Lassander as Leonora Anselmi


Tano Cimarosa as Sgt. Panto


Magda Konopka as Contessa Orsello


Ninetto Davoli as Sandro


Ursula Davis as Anna


Gianni Williams as Manlio


Giacomo Rossi Stuart as Mr. Anselmi


Livio Galassi as Marco


Dada Gallotti as Marilyn


Giovanni Brusatori as Mario


??? as Leonora's maid


??? as The Contessa's lover


Giovanna D'Albore as Emma


Daniela Giordano as Nelly