Four Flies in the Ointment

Who knew that killers in a giallo could accessorize... for in The Killer Nun (1979), the prototypical black gloves are replaced with a colourful pair of pink ones – much more fashionable. Co-written and directed by Giulio Berruti, he fuses the aforementioned themes of the giallo with the growing craze of nunsploitation...as well as being loosely based on the real story of Belgian nun Cecile Bombeek. This sordid tale follows Sister Gertrude (Anita Ekberg), a middle aged nun who has recently had some rather serious health problems. Having recovered from brain surgery, she is quite hysterical... fearing that she is still sick and in need of care. Leading her through an almost male-like form of mid-life crisis, dare I say that she starts quite a few bad habits: a serious addiction to morphine, leaving the hospital she works for in order to have affairs with unknown men, and creating a rather unique bond with her busty roommate nun, Sister Mathieu (Paola Morra) – you might call them bosom buddies, or breast friends with benefits – okay, enough.

Nearing the end of the Golden Years of Universal horror, The Cat Creeps (1946), directed by genre specialist Erle C. Kenton (Island of Lost Souls, The Ghost of Frankenstein, Who Done It?), is the dying whisper of the old haunted house murder mystery film (at least until Scooby-Doo, Where Are You! brought back the excitement for kids in the late 1960s). In fact, this would be the last horror movie produced by Universal until 1951's The Strange Door – excluding Abbott and Costello meet Frankenstein, which is more of a spoof of horror movies. What started with horror films (followed closely by comedy spoofs) like The Cat and the Canary (1927 and 1939), The Old Dark House (1932), The Black Cat (1934 and 1941), The Ghost Breakers (1940), Hold That Ghost (1941), was then met with a supernatural element found in Cat People (1942), The Curse of the Cat People (1944), and She-Wolf of London (1946), to name but a few, The Cat Creeps pulling from all of these sources to make a, dare I say it, ‘copy-cat’ of the previous filmography.

There is no denying that our childhoods play a very large part in who we become as adults. The proof is in the quasi-giallo pudding when looking at the titular character in A White Dress for Marialé (1972) – it has also been known as Spirits of Death and Tragic Exorcism. Directed by Romano Scavolini, the aforementioned Marialé (Ida Galli, aka Evelyn Stewart) had a traumatic childhood – witnessing the murder of her mother and lover by her father, only for the patriarch to turn the gun on himself after offing the secretive couple. Finding herself in an equally as toxic relationship with Paolo (Luigi Pistilli), the wealthy man hides her away in a half impressive, half dilapidated castle in the middle of nowhere with his trusty banged butler Osvaldo (Gengher Gatti) – looking like an oddball combination of an eccentric Vincent Price and inhuman Lurch.

Sometimes, a comparison just has to be made... and that is the case today with the 1977 giallo Nine Guests for a Crime, directed by Ferdinando Baldi (a film maker who was usually manning westerns or sword and sandal epics, with this being his only foray into the genre). It is also worth noting here that the movie has also been called Death Comes From the Past (in Spain), as well as having the alternate Italian title A Scream in the Night. So, their ship disappeared off the shores of this uncharted desert isle, with Greta (Rita Silva), the Skipper too (he dies too soon), the Millionaire Patriarch (Arthur Kennedy) and his much younger wife (Caroline Lawrence), the Soothsayer (Sofia Dionisio), the Professor of Truths (Dana Ghia), and Michele too (Massimo Foschi), here on Giallo’s Isle.

An honest housewife by day who transforms into a kinkier than Betty Page by night. . .this could only be the main character in an Italian giallo. A very late entry into the mystery/thrillers coming out of the boot, director Stelvio Massi brings some seediness to the big screen with Arabella, the Black Angel (1989). Poor Arabella (Tinì Cansino) is a loving housewife to a very unlovable author, Francesco (Francesco Cesale). Dealt a big blow on their honeymoon (double entendre meant), a punishing car accident has led to him being wheelchair bound for life.

It is hard to believe that the great Christopher Lee, who put his stamp on nearly all things British cinema over his seventy-one year career (featuring a whopping 286 screen credits), only donned the tweed suit, frock-coat, and deerstalker hat once (all whilst smoking a pipe) for the silver screen (though he did also play the titular Sherlock Holmes in two television movies). Released in 1962 under the title Sherlock Holmes and the Deadly Necklace, just to make it all a little more confounding, this film was a West German, French, and Italian co-production shot mostly in Berlin (though some location shooting was done in Ireland and England). . . how in the world was Lee never cast in a British made production? The other head scratcher here, and arguably the biggest flaw of the movie, is that the production team failed to use Christopher Lee’s voice in either the German or English tracks (instead dubbed by someone with a voice that pales in comparison), especially strange when you realize that the actor spoke flawless German as well. It is said that Lee was not pleased upon finding out that he had been dubbed. The only other issue is that Lee wore a fake nose for the character – and it stands out a bit too much.