Not That Hitchcock

For those of you out there that are James Bond fans like I am, you will likely get a bit excited about this one. As I was doing some research on gialli a few weeks back, I stumbled upon 1971's The Black Belly of the Tarantula, directed by Paolo Cavara. Featuring an intriguing cast for Bond afficionados, Giancarlo Giannini (Rene Mathis in Casino Royale and Quantum of Solace), Claudine Auger (Domino in Thunderball), Barbara Bouchet (Moneypenny in the quirky 1967 version of Casino Royale) and Barbara Bach (Maj. Anya Amasova/Agent XXX in The Spy Who Loved Me) all star in this thriller, a unique cast ranging from the movies of Connery and Moore, to Craig and spoof spinoff. Oh, the horror, the horror: a sadistic, psychopathic serial killer, never truly seen (for the longest time, we only view his or her hands – always porting surgical gloves that make them look like plastic), is killing women by way of a most gruesome process. Utilizing acupuncture needles that are tainted with a poison that paralyses the target. . . the victims are poked in the back of the neck – still awake, eyes open wide in fear, they are unable to do anything as the murderer finishes them off in the most macabre ways.

A rare example of a movie that is less known than (most of) its remakes, Luc Besson’s Nikita (also known as La Femme Nikita), released in 1990, has spawned an American big screen adaptation (1993's Point of No Return, starring Bridget Fonda and Gabriel Byrne), as well as two popular television series: Joel Surnow’s show, centred around Peta Wilson, ran for five seasons starting in 1997; while another version began airing on The CW in 2010, lasting four years, with the heroine this time brought to life by Maggie Q. The only version, hinted at above, that is lesser known than the original feature is a 1991 Hong Kong action remake titled Black Cat. An influential French/Italian co-production from one of the modern masters of action (think Léon: The Professional, The Fifth Element, and Taken – which he wrote and produced), Besson transports us into a strange world, feeling almost dystopic, with a Mad Max-of-the-city type feel. In this landscape we find four hoodlums walking the streets, breaking into a drug store to feed their drug fix. Challenged by a brave store owner (who lives above the shop) and the heavily armed police, the only one of the quartet left alive is Nikita (Anne Parillaud), a wild card punk – she is a violent junkie sociopath with the ear biting skills of Mike Tyson and the unflappable hand of a master marksman.

With a long list of suspects, Lucio Fulci’s Italian giallo Don’t Torture a Duckling revels in its mystery, a small town southern Italian caper that does not, in fact, contain any fowl play – though it does have almost every other aspect of foul play imaginable. Introduced to three tween boys, they are the type of scamps that get into all sorts of shenanigans. Spotting the arrival of some out of town prostitutes, they follow the trail to an abandoned house, keeping informed of all of the sordid action. They see Giuseppe Barra (Vito Passeri), a simple-minded peeping Tom enjoying the view, and he takes offense when they tease him.

If you’ve ever hoped someone would combine Hans Christian Andersen’s “The Little Mermaid” with touches of David Cronenberg’s psychological sexual thriller Crash (or many of the director’s other iconic horror features) and the quirky colours and music of Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory – then you’ve got one interesting imagination. . . and your time is here, as the 2015 Polish horror musical The Lure, directed by Agnieszka Smoczynska, walks this bizarre line. Mesmeric in its colours and direction, some may wonder why make the film a musical. . . though, if you think about it, it makes perfect sense, as these half human/half monster hybrids are like the sirens of Homer’s epic poems, creatures that sing to allure and attract (it gets more gruesome after that) – it is in their essence. Set in Poland in the Communist era 1980s, the story follows mermaid sisters Silver (Marta Mazurek) and Golden (Michalina Olszańska) – they have a yin and yang quality, the former a more compassionate being learning to love, the latter a more violent, dangerous beast – as they make their way into a foreign landscape.

Ah. . . Edgar Allan Poe. The original master of suspense (and macabre), with his maniacal revenge plots, twisted love stories and gothic settings, has arguably done more for horror films than any other writer (though some may argue that H.P. Lovecraft excels). This is evident in nearly every frame of the 1972 giallo Your Vice is a Locked Door and Only I Have the Key (the title alone is a classic, it was also released under other titles as well, including Gently Before She Dies, Eye of the Black Cat, and Excite Me!). Loosely based upon Poe’s “The Black Cat”, director Sergio Martino infuses a style reminiscent of Henri-Georges Clouzot’s horror classic Les Diaboliques, making for a unique narrative. Set in an ancient villa, its decay and rot echoing the crumbling marriage inside (this setting will bring to mind several Poe tales, most notably, “The Fall of the House of Usher”), Oliviero (Luigi Pistilli) is a small town celebrity, an author who has had several novels published (though currently has writer’s block). Revelling in the dwindling free love sixties movement, he frequently invites a group of hippies from a local campsite to party with him. Much to the chagrin of his unhappy (and frequently beaten/threatened) wife Irina (Anita Strindberg), the pair are constantly targeting each other (in very different ways).

Combining two of the most fascinating Italian genres of the 1970s, giallo and poliziotteschi (that is, thriller and crime/action), 1975's The Suspicious Death of a Minor (also known as Too Young to Die) uses more subtle strokes of violence and nudity compared to many other giallo features from the time, instead building suspense and energy by way of highly original set pieces. Directed by Sergio Martino (this is his sixth and final giallo, another example being Your Vice Is a Locked Room and Only I Have the Key), he introduces us to the picturesque yet dangerous world of Milan, circa 1975 – a place where we find a young prostitute named Marisa (Patrizia Castaldi) on the run from an unsettling figure in mirrored glasses. Attempting to meet with undercover detective, Paolo Germi (Claudio Cassinelli – the actor sadly died in a helicopter crash while filming another Martino picture – 1986's Hands of Steel), she is eliminated by the stone cold proficient assassin before being able to pass on any actionable information.