There is no denying that gialli can be a bit out there. These Italian twisty murder mysteries can often combine abstract writing, new age technologies of the 1960s and 70s, and some sex and drugs to make for a trippy experience... but you ain’t seen nothing yet. The most surrealist giallo of them all might just be 1968's Death Laid an Egg, directed by Giulio Questi. Welcome to the most posh chicken farm you’ll ever see. With a scientist (Biagio Pelligra) working nearly around the clock to genetically produce a new form of poultry that will almost instantly fatten with limited bone structure... all while countless chickens are being prepared for market by some new fangled automated technology, wife Anna (Gina Lollobrigida) and her secretary cousin Gabrielle (Ewa Aulin) lounge around their resort-like swimming pool as the former’s hubby, Marco (Jean-Louis Trintignant), gets his kinky rocks off with prostitutes at a hotel as he falls deeper and deeper into a fugue state.
With a title that brings to mind the film noirs of yesteryear, or, an egg for that matter, 1992's Hard-Boiled is an action packed extravaganza from writer/director John Woo (his last bombastic Hong Kong feature before heading over to Hollywood). With a score that often surprisingly leans to the jazzy side (composed by Michael Gibbs), providing a noirish vibe to be sure (the at-times harsh lighting does not hurt either), Woo actually originally set out to create some sort of unique cross between Dirty Harry and Bullitt (a self professed lover of Clint Eastwood and Steve McQueen), and, if you amped the action up to eleven in both of these films, you’d have something along the lines of Hard-Boiled.
The Case of the Scorpion’s Tail – no, not a Hardy Boys’ adventure, rather, another unique giallo, directed by Sergio Martino (Your Vice Is a Locked Room and Only I Have the Key), a 1971 mystery thriller that may have more would-be stalkers than any other film in the annals of history. From a story by Eduardo Manzanos (icon Ernesto Gastaldi came in to build the screenplay, with Mazanos and Sauro Scavolini also getting credit), the twist-filled narrative pulls from both Alfred Hitchcock and Henri-Georges Clouzot’s Les diaboliques, as well as unbelievable real life stories that lined the newspapers . . . Martino imbuing it all with a tense, mile-a-minute pacing.
Special delivery – a five minute journey into a world devoid of science and logic, writer/director Roman Bubnov pits a mysterious, gift-giving force against a woman in an intriguing little Russian short film – Who’s There (2018). A twenty-first century Hitchcockian blonde (Darya Yanvarina) – ear buds in, phone attached to hip; a beautiful mystery, so alluringly aloof. . . a woman placed in a dire situation, she receives a text from source unknown, asking if she got the said sender’s present.
What looks to be an open and shut case, Lucio Fulci perverts a seemingly simple murder mystery with suspicious individuals and numerous red herrings in 1971's intriguingly titled giallo, A Lizard in a Woman’s Skin. Carol Hammond (Florinda Bolkan) is a bored London housewife, married to her staid husband, Frank (Jean Sorel), mother to an ungrateful step-daughter, Joan (Ely Galleani), and daughter to a famed lawyer and big time politician, Edmund Brighton (Leo Genn). Haunted by her subconscious, she often dreams that she has found her way over to her wild-child next door neighbour’s pad, Julia Durer (Anita Strindberg) – a sex-kitten known for throwing massive drug-fuelled orgies. Fulci perfectly encapsulates the situation with an amazing transition – visions of her dreams cut to her husband using a nut-cracker at one of their typically boring dinners, as well as a nicely used split screen shot.
A meditative piece on aging, Rúnar Rúnarsson’s 2004 short film The Last Farm, out of Iceland, depicts a situation in which many of us will one day find ourselves in. . . old and decrepit, losing our freedom as we are forced out of our homes for a much more costly imitation of it. Hrafn (Jón Sigurbjörnsson) is an elderly man who has done it his way. Loving life on his little plot of farmland, it is stark yet beautiful, cold yet alive – a frigid ocean property surrounded by hilly mountains and dales, the meeting of land and sea picturesque in all of its challenges. . . unspoiled water and terrain for as far as the eye can see.
Pushing the boundaries of the Italian giallo, Andrea Bianchi’s aptly titled Strip Nude for Your Killer (1975), which features numerous examples of the seductive art of striptease, oodles of nudity, and a violently high body count, is an example of Eurotrash in its most disturbingly alluring state. . . not for the prudish or weak of heart, but fascinating to be sure. A glossy B movie set in the posh world of a Milanese modelling agency, one of the house’s top photographers, Carlo (Nino Castelnuovo), uses his advantageous position to pull stunning women into his bed (I use this term loosely – a steamy sauna works just as well for the cheeky fellow) with promises that they will grace the cover of the world’s most iconic fashion magazines.