70s Horror DVD Roundup
70s Horror DVD Roundup
Edwige Fenech and Paul Naschy get naked.
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Your Vice Is a Locked Room and Only I Have the Key (1972)
Your Vice Is a Locked Room and Only I Have the Key, a niche foreign horror film, is often referred to as a giallo. But it is definitely a gothic tale of horror, and is quite heavily reliant upon a dark and nasty tale by Edgar Allen Poe, "The Black Cat", published way back in 1845.
It's pretty hard to top other screen adaptations — such as 1962's Tales of Terror (with Vincent Price) or 2007's Masters of Horror episode (starring Jeffrey Combs) — and sorry to say, Italian auteur Sergio Martino doesn't come very close with Your Vice Is a Locked Room and Only I Have the Key (aka, Eye of the Black Cat).
For one thing, the cat-ghost gags are just horrible. I do expect a bit of parmesan when it comes to the visual effects in these spaghetti fright flicks (Vice features an awesome dummy plummet!), but wow… The fake feline head with the missing eye, which is shown over and over again, is not even so bad it's good. I mean, seriously: couldn't somebody have fitted the real cat with a gooey, glorified black eye-patch? (The scenes with the actual animal, especially the opening shot, are effective.)
The sordid story follows Floriana (Edwige Fenech), a sexy city girl who goes to the country to vacation at the estate of her Uncle Oliviero (Luigi Pistilli) and his tempestuous young wife Irina (Anita Strindberg). Oliviero, a successful author, is a raging alcoholic who alienates everyone in his orbit except for his beloved black cat, Satan. Irina detests Satan, and this causes a palpable friction which is made even more apparent when both husband and wife hit on foxy Floriana. Floriana's no frump, but who she really likes is a hot-blooded townie who races motorcycles and likes to do her in the dirt. (A class act, she is not.) One thing leads to another, and before long people start to die in the most horrific ways.
A pretty distasteful and shamefully racist film, Vice is definitely not one of Martino's best. Still, the actors are interesting to watch and the score (by Bruno Nicolai, who also did The Night Evelyn Came Out of the Grave) and cinematography (by Giancarlo Ferrando, who worked with Martino on All the Colours of the Dark) make a viewing ultimately worthwhile.
DVD extras include a nearly half-hour retrospective on the movie, featuring interviews with Martino, Fenech, and screenwriter Ernesto Gastaldi.
Strip Nude For Your Killer (1975)
Perhaps not surprisingly, Strip Nude For Your Killer director Andrea Bianchi produced other movies with titles like: Cry of the Prostitute and The Malicious Whore. Let's just say he probably wasn't a contributor to N.O.W. back in the 70s.
Even more sexist than usual (which is really saying a lot), Strip Nude for Your Killer is a pretty third rate giallo with only its cast to act as its saving grace. Edwige Fenech plays a top print photographer in Milan who begins to suspect trouble after she and her reprehensibly chauvinistic bed buddy and fellow shutterbug Carlo (Nino Castelnuovo), notice a rather alarming new trend in the fashion world: murder.
All sleaze and very little style, Strip Nude For Your Killer does, at least, live up to its title. Unfortunately the naked men are absolutely disgusting (obese or hairy; often both) and the most of the females clearly weren't on the health food and exercise kick of the Me Gen at the time (even fab Fenech looks a bit flabby). Ordinarily, I would not say anything that's critical of any person's physique (living in a glass house, and all), but this movie's name advertizes glamorous states of undress and so I'm sharing my view on the cottage cheese thighs and the castrated crotches: it ain't pretty.
The cinematography is pretty, though. Being shot on location in Milan doesn't hurt, but Franco Delli Colli (who also shot a giallo with a similar theme, in the "Solange" trilogy, 1974's What Have They Done to Your Daughters?) really knows how to shoot action and voyeuristic POV effectively. The costumes and accessories are surprisingly nothing special, especially since the movie is built around the world of high fashion, but the sets and set decoration are appealing (you can take in the headboards and nightstands while avoiding looking at the grappling couples).
Much better than the film itself are the extras on the DVD. in comparison to our own PC Americans, foreign filmmakers are usually pretty outspoken and unfiltered. Screenwriter Massimo Felisati expresses some regret and embarrassment over the extreme exploitative elements of the film, squarely blaming the director when he reveals that he insisted Bianchi take a co-writing credit.
Costar Solvi Stubing, who plays a top model in the movie, isn't ashamed of her role (her character keeps clothed), and it's interesting to get her take on what it was like going from a real fashion star (her Peroni beer commercials and print ads were major in Italy), to movie model, to what she does now (which is entertainment reporting on television; and she looks even better now than she did in the film, I'm glad to report).
The Blue Eyes of the Broken Doll (1973)
Paul Naschy… you've fooled me not once, not twice, but many times. Shame on me!
Naschy's (real name: Jacinto Molina) movies always look like they are going to be so good. But they never are. While he didn't helm this inert blah-fest (that would be Carlos Aured, making his directorial debut here) Naschy did cowrite and stars as a loathsome lothario. As usual, his acting is decent — and he has his fun, trademark DVD 'Alfred Hitchcock Presents' intro at the beginning — and all the elements are there, but the story slowly goes absolutely nowhere.
The Blue Eyes of the Broken Doll, also known as House of the Psychotic Women, starts off by quickly revealing that ex-con and drifter Gilles (Naschy) is possibly a murderer. We see him thinking back to a time when he brutally choked a lady with a very bad hair-do. But the strange, disfigured woman who picks Gilles up on the roadside in her car is shown to be no better than he when she strangles an injured pigeon just moments after meeting him. Was it an act of mercy, or fulfillment of both their cruel fantasies? He's repelled, yet intrigued.
Gilles is hired as a caretaker on the estate of this sickly woman, which she shares with her two sisters: one confined to a wheelchair, and the other batty as a belfry. When the four cohabitate, let's just say things won't be going smoothly. Unfortunately, the only way to know this is by the brain-numbing 'tv novelas' style dialogue, delivered as listlessly as possible by characters who pretty much just walk (or wheel) around and stare at each other — sometimes the staring is done by disembodied eyes, but even those gory orbs can't save this snoozer.
As is the case with Strip Nude For Your Killer, the only reason (and it is a compelling one) to watch The Blue Eyes of the Broken Doll is for its extras. Naschy and Aured (that latter of whom passed on shortly after completing this DVD) offer a spirited commentary, which is available with subtitles (very nice touch… it almost makes up for the full-frame presentation).
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Reviewed by Staci Layne Wilson