The Killer is Not Alone/El asesino no está solo (1975)

‘We have the same tastes, aside from the rhinoceroses.’

A troubled teenager flees to Madrid after murdering a prostitute. Taking up residence in a boarding house, he begins a tentative relationship with the landlady’s daughter, but his past threatens him at every turn…

Workmanlike if uninspired Spanish Giallo that failed to find an audience on its original release. Co-writer and director Jesús García de Dueñas assembles a cast that includes Lola Flores, James Philbrook and Maria Rohm.

When unhappy teenager Julio Nieto (Domingo Codesido Ascanio) seeks solace in the arms of a prostitute (Rohm), things end badly. Fleeing the murder scene the following day, Ascanio tries to connect with his parents, Carmen (Mayrata O’Wisiedo) and Don Enrique (Philbrook). However, neither has any time for him, so he flees to Madrid, taking a room at the boarding house run by dance teacher Doña Dolores (Flores) and posing as a student. Belatedly realising he may have dropped the ball as a parent, Philbrook sets out to find his son, employing a detective to help with the search.

Life at the boarding house is a challenge for the socially awkward Ascanio, but it’s eased by the presence of Flores’ pretty daughter, Mónica (Teresa Rabal). The other residents include sex pest Mr Juanito (Juan José Otegui), elderly doctor Gonzalo (Francisco Pierrá), secret prostitute Teresa (Rohm, again) and crime writer Raimundo (José Vivó). Unfortunately for Ascanio, there’s nothing this mismatched crew enjoy more than discussing the so-called ‘Wire Murderer’ at the dinner table, little realising, of course, that he’s sitting there right with them. When Ascanio reluctantly starts a relationship with the eager Rabal, it seems like a new start for him, but can he keep his dark impulses under control?

The first question that arises when watching de Dueñas’ film is, who was it intended for? Obviously, it does not follow the typical ‘whodunit’ Giallo template, so there’s nothing here for mystery fans to speculate about beyond Ascanio’s motivations. There’s little content for horror fans, either. The kills are pretty bloody but very brief, and the body count is extremely low. Similarly, de Dueñas makes little effort to ramp up suspense at these moments, shooting in a very straightforward, almost documentary style. When he does try to amp up the style to reflect Ascanio’s fractured psyche, it’s not poorly handled, but neither is it particularly original or creative.

What may have been more in the director’s mind is the thread of social commentary that runs through the drama. One familiar Giallo trope is present and correct: the killer motivated by a traumatic childhood event. This occurs at the hands of the pre-teen Ascanio’s babysitter (Rohm in her third role!), her employment necessitated by her parents leaving the child behind when they take an extended break in Japan. This theme of parental neglect and its tragic consequences is featured prominently in recently released Italian Gialli, such as ‘What Have They Done To Your Daughters?/La polizia chiede aiuto’ (1974). Here, it’s upfront once again, with O’Wisiedo utterly disinterested in her troublesome offspring and high-flying businessman Philbrook spending more time talking to the local Port Authority than his son. To the character’s credit, he tries to make amends when he realises that Ascanio has bolted, but it’s far too late in the day for that. The damage has been done.

As a result of all this, it seems that de Dueñas is trying to present Ascanio as a tragic figure, even a victim. However, it’s a real stretch to sympathise with a character who garrotted a defenceless woman in the drama’s opening scenes. The director also leans in with repeated shots of Easter processions in the streets of Madrid. These feature masked penitents carrying crosses and occur in the brief running time so often that it seems as if it must have been intended as more than just splashes of local colour. The childhood incident also includes the accidental decapitation of a Christ figurine, which ties in perhaps a little too closely with the murders and all this religious iconography. Similarly, having Rohm play the catalyst for Ascanio’s murderous urges and two of his victims feels like cheap pop psychology. Fortunately, the actress is talented enough that all three women are sufficiently different.

In terms of performance, the most convincing work comes with the mother-and-daughter dynamic presented by Flores and Rabal. The older woman is feeling her age, and the younger one is trying to break free of her mother’s shackles. Again, this plays into the theme of parental neglect. Flores might be very present in her daughter’s life but plainly resents her vibrancy and youth, even to the extent of trying to seduce a horrified Ascanio. Unfortunately, his character is one of the film’s biggest problems. Julio is written as a sulky, disconnected teen, and Ascanio (who appears under the name of David Carpenter) struggles to give him any further dimension. Somewhat bizarrely, given his slight physical build, he had played the title role in the poorly regarded ‘Tarzan in King Solomon’s Mines/Tarzán en las minas del rey Salomón’ (1973) a couple of years earlier.

The most recognisable face in front of the camera is undoubtedly Rohm. She may not have had the longest career as an actor, but she packed a lot of genre work into her 13 years of credits. After a few years in minor roles, her big break came with a supporting turn in the action comedy ‘Five Golden Dragons’ (1967). This was followed by showings in a couple of the Fu Manchu movies with Christopher Lee and the two Sumuru films with Shirley Eaton, another character created by author Sax Rohmer. There was also the jungle adventure ‘The Face of Eve’ (1968), ‘House of a Thousand Dolls/La casa de las mil muñecas’ (1967) with Vincent Price and ‘The Bloody Judge’ (1970) and ‘Count Dracula’ (1970), both again with Lee. The common thread of all these films was producer Harry Alan Towers, who usually wrote or co-wrote the scripts. He and Rohm married in 1964, so her frequent appearances in his films was perhaps inevitable. However, it should be noted that her performances were consistently strong. In later years, she took character roles outside the Towers stable in projects such as ‘Black Beauty’ (1971), ‘Treasure Island’ (1972) and ‘The Call of the Wild’ (1972) with Charlton Heston. After retiring from acting, she helped her husband in a producer’s role, and the couple remained married until he died in 2009. She passed away in 2018.

A project with some potential, but one that needed more development and a better script.

Escape from the Bronx/Fuga dal Bronx/Bronx Warriors 2 (1983)

‘There are more ways to die down here than in a Bruce Lee film.’

The Bronx has been declared uninhabitable and scheduled for demolition to make way for a new development. Residents are being forcibly evicted with deadly force until a small group begins to fight back…

Action-packed sequel to international hit ‘1990: The Bronx Warriors/1990: I guerrieri del Bronx (1982). Director Enzo G Castellari returns with star Mark Gregory, and a supporting cast that includes Henry Silva, Timothy Brent and Ennio Girolami.

Ten years after the Manhattan Corporation’s misguided attempt to infiltrate the urban wasteland of the Bronx, the borough is scheduled for redevelopment. President Clark (Girolami) of the G.C. Corporation sees it as the perfect location for his flagship’ city of the future’ project. There is no place in his plan for the current residents, and, officially, at least, they are being offered relocation to New Mexico. However, the truth is that professional mercenary Floyd Wrangler (Silva) is wiping them out with his Disinfestation Squads. The press and public are being kept out of the region by a bogus epidemic, but reporter Moon Grey (Valeria D’Obici) smells a rat and infiltrates the area. The gangs who run the borough have moved underground and rallied around charismatic leader Dablone (Antonio Sabato).

Alongside his mission to clear out the borough, Silva also seeks the head of the notorious renegade, Trash (Gregory), who runs ammunition to Sabato and his followers. Determined to operate as a lone wolf, Gregory is forced into the fight when the squad murder his parents (Romano Puppo and Eva Czemerys). Gregory and Sabato concoct a plan to kidnap Girolami when he arrives for the new development’s ground-breaking ceremony. To pull off their outrageous plan, they recruit D’Obici, famous bank robber Strike (Brent) and his 8-year-old son, Junior (Alessandro Prete), an expert with high explosives. The snatch is successful, but they find themselves trying to navigate the ruined streets and underground tunnels with Silva’s men in hot pursuit.

After the surprising international success of the first film, which ranked fifth in the U.S. on its first week of release, a sequel was almost guaranteed. Keen to replicate the original’s box office take, producer Fabrizio De Angelis arranged for a practically identical filming schedule: a couple of weeks of shooting on location in New York and the remainder of the filming taking place in Rome. Unfortunately, the creative side of the enterprise also boasted little variation. Instead of opening up the world established in the first film, Castellari opts for what’s little more than a remake but on a slightly bigger scale. So there are more stunts and action, bigger explosions and a higher body count. There are also further nods to John Carpenter’s original inspiration, ‘Escape from New York’ (1981), with a kidnapped President and that rather obvious title. 

The good news is that the stunt work and pyrotechnics are all delivered with a cool, professional efficiency, and the second half of the film goes pedal to the metal with the action. The stunt crew have an absolute field day, flinging themselves off high buildings, getting set on fire by flame throwers and somersaulting through the air as the world explodes around them. Not only does Veteran Castellari know how to deliver their efforts to the best advantage, he also knows how to use slow-motion, saving it for occasional moments to give it a lasting impact. However, the bad news is that there’s so much of this mayhem that it soon becomes repetitive and quickly takes the place of any significant plot development. There’s not even any resolution to the story at the end, as by the time we hit the third act, everything has just boiled down to who’ll be left standing when the smoke clears. It’s no spoiler to reveal that whoever makes it to the end credits won’t have much in the way of company! 

There’s also disappointment for fans of the first film who appreciated its quirkier aspects. Sure, the presence of roller hockey thugs, blaxploitation gangsters and tap-dancing martial artists was all very silly, but it did give the original a unique flavour that’s mostly absent here. Sabato’s underground community does contain some of these characters, but they’re little more than set dressing, with only Carla Brait and her gold bowler hat getting any screen time at all, and that’s far too brief. The few fresh ideas that Castellari and Tito Carpi offer up in their script are also discarded very quickly: the fake quarantine that provokes a media blackout and the apparent interest of the U.N. in the cleansing operation. Given the breakneck pace of Italian genre film production at the time, it’s almost inevitable that such world-building takes a back seat. However, it still feels like a disappointment as such elements might have led to some interesting story points. 

Instead, we get a roll call of characters who are little more than slight variations on those that appeared in the first film. Sabato takes the place of Fred Williamson’s ‘King of New York’, Silva’s ruthless ground forces commander stands in for Vic Morrow’s ‘Hammer’, and Girolami returns to play a different evil CEO of a different evil corporation! Fortunately, all the actors give good value on the screen, particularly Silva, who was adept at this kind of dark role. There’s also a brief appearance from Puppo, who had a much more prominent role in Sergio Martino’s semi-bonkers post-apocalyptic romp ‘2019: After the Fall of New York/2019 – Dopo la caduta di New York (1983). 

Best of all, there’s a starring part for Brent (real name Giancarlo Prete), who led the line as ‘Road Warrior’ lookalike Scorpion in Castellari’s ‘The New Barbarians/I nuovi barbari/Warriors of the Wasteland’ (1983). He brings a lighter touch to the material amidst all the violence, which is welcome, and performs some of his own stunts. Although I can find no supporting evidence, screen son Alessandro Prete was probably his real-life offspring, as this was the youngster’s only featured acting role in the 1980s. This contention seems all the more probable, given Castellari’s habit of casting members of his own family in his films. Girolami was his older brother, and Massimo Vanni, who plays gang member Big Little Man and worked on the stunts, was a cousin. 

Silva was not quite a native of the Bronx, but was born in nearly Brooklyn in 1926. In 1955, he joined the prestigious Actor’s Studio as one of only five selected from over 2,500 applicants. After starring on Broadway in the group’s production of ‘A Hatful of Rain’, Silva repeated his role in the successful film version directed by Fred Zinnemann in 1957. Concentrating on film, he began sharing the screen with stars like Richard Widmark and Gregory Peck and was featured as one of Frank Sinatra’s gang in ‘Oceans Eleven’ (1960). A standout performance in John Frankenheimer’s classic cold war thriller ‘The Manchurian Candidate’ (1962) promised bigger things, but his only subsequent lead was in the independent gangster drama ‘Johnny Cool’ (1963). After being offered a memorable villain in the Spaghetti Western ‘The Hills Run Red/Un fiume di dollari’ (1966), Silva relocated to Europe and began a long association with genre cinema that included the leads in crime dramas like ‘Assassination’ (1967) and ‘The Boss/Murder Inferno/Il boss’ (1973). He was also a regular on U.S. Network T.V. for more than 40 years, taking guest slots on multiple hit shows, including ‘Mission: Impossible’, ‘Tarzan’ with Ron Ely, ‘Hawaii Five-O’, ‘The Streets of San Francisco’ and ‘Buck Rogers in the 25th Century’ to name just a handful. Other American pictures included ‘Alligator’ (1980) and ‘Megaforce’ (1982). In later years, he did voice work for animations, including playing Batman villain, Bane. He passed away in 2022 at the age of 95. 

There’s plenty of bang for your buck in this action-packed sequel, but if you’re looking for a good story, it’s better to search elsewhere.

Judoka-Secret Agent/Le judoka, agent secret (1966)

‘Those sticks are diabolical tools.’

A British agent is shot and killed crossing a street in Paris. The woman he was meeting takes refuge with a special agent who has just been assigned to protect an English scientist who is arriving in the city for a top-level conference…

Uneven and obscure spy game from France with Jean-Claude Bercq running around town as this week’s ‘Bond On A Budget’. Pierre Zimmer co-writes and directs the shenanigans with the help of a supporting cast that includes Marilù Tolo, Perrette Pradier and Michael Lonsdale.

One morning in Paris, a man is gunned down from a passing car. He was crossing the street to meet young blonde Catherine Demange (Patricia Viterbo), seated at a street café. He hands her a codebook as he breathes his last on the tarmac, and she rushes to a local gym to find Marc Saint-Clair (Bercq). He’s a secret agent known as Le Judoka due to his proficiency in Judo. Installing her at a safe house, he takes the book to Commissaire Chaumont (Fernand Berset) of the Sûreté. Berset gives him another assignment: to babysit English scientist Thomas Perkins (Lonsdale) when he arrives in the city.

However, Lonsdale goes missing from the airport after his plane touches down. Neither Bercq nor his sidekick Jacques Mercier (Henri Garcin) can find any trace of him. The trail leads to the shady nightclub run by Paul Vincent (Yves Brainville, where Bercq meets the slinky Vanessa (Tolo). She also works at the recording studio run by Dominique Berg (Pradier), which Bercq becomes convinced is a front for the local underworld. However, his investigation goes awry when the safe house is breached, and Viterbo is kidnapped.

This French-Italian co-production is yet another underwhelming attempt to cash in on the popularity of James Bond in the mid-1960s, commonly gathered under the umbrella called Eurospy. Crucially, emulating the excesses of Bond requires a lot of financial clout, and it’s to Zimmer’s credit that he never attempts such an unreachable goal. Instead, he delivers a fairly grounded tale of espionage with a focus on small-scale action, mostly fistfights and hand-to-hand combat. Bercq shows a lot of ability in those scenes, and although not highly creative, these battles are well-choreographed for the most part and the highlights of the picture.

Elsewhere, unfortunately, the film runs into a lot of problems. The missing scientist angle is the apparent through-line of the plot, but it’s forgotten for long periods while Bercq and the story meander through the Paris underworld to no great purpose. None of the villains take centre stage as Bercq’s main antagonist, and their overall plans remain vague and undefined. Early scenes set Viterbo up as the obvious heroine, but she vanishes almost entirely from the film’s second half. The love interest role falls to Tolo, who is wasted in a severely underwritten role that comes over mainly as an afterthought.

There are also some puzzling developments. After investigating Lonsdale’s disappearance at the airport, Bercq and Garcin return there later on for no apparent reason other than for Bercq to get into another fight with one of the faceless bad guys. Why this henchman is still hanging about at the location is also a mystery. Fortunately, it’s a decent punch-up, although it is capped by a pretty dreadful ‘dummy off a balcony’ moment. At first glance, you may assume this was just a case of the filmmakers getting as much out of a suitable location as possible. However, there was likely an alternate reason that also explains the somewhat disjointed feel of the finished product.

One day, toward the end of the film’s production, Viterbo got a lift to the set with Garcin. When parking, he hit the accelerator instead of the brake, and his car plunged into the river Seine. He was able to escape, but Viterbo drowned. The production was too far advanced to recast her role and start again, so major rewrites were likely necessary, which would account for the uneven story and the overall fractured results. The kidnapping of her character does get wrapped up with a rescue scene, but it’s very brief indeed, and she’s never referred to again.

There’s little else worth noting about the film. Zimmer’s direction lacks any noticeable dynamism or style, and the project has few memorable elements. One of the most bizarre is the entertainment on offer at Brainville’s high-class nightclub, which consists of a young woman walking across the stage, apparently dressed as Santa Claus. At one point, she seems to put a hat on a snowman. She’s not singing, dancing or removing her clothes, but Zimmer only gives us a couple of brief shots of her act from the back of the room, so I guess any of those three activities might have followed. However, exotic dancing seems a tad unlikely when you have a well-heeled clientele seated at tables and dressed to the nines.

Seeing Garcin go undercover as an aspiring singer at the recording studio is much more fun. Sporting a terrible Beatles wig, he delivers a wonderfully atrocious audition accompanied by an apparent boundless self-belief regarding his musical genius. It’s a little out of place with the generally dour proceedings, but it’s one of the few times the film threatens to come to life. Of course, he’s actually there to take covert photos with a camera hidden in his guitar, which is just about the only spy gadget in the film. Perhaps the biggest surprise is that the movie got a sequel in the form of ‘Casse-tête chinois pour le judoka’ (1967), which swapped Bercq out for Marc Briand and made a far more conscious effort to emulate Bond. Tolo did return but played an entirely different character who mostly doubled as comic relief, the complete opposite of her role here.

The one thing that might entice the more casual viewer to seek this one out is the presence of Lonsdale, who would later brush shoulders with Bond for real when he played the villainous Hugo Drax in ‘Moonraker’ (1979). Born to English-French parents, he studied painting in Paris after World War Two but switched to acting and began appearing in films in the latter half of the 1950s. He spent a decade in supporting roles, including one in Orson Welles’ ‘The Trial’ (1961), before his big opportunity arrived, courtesy of director François Truffaut. Significant roles in the filmmaker’s ‘The Bride Wore Black/La mariée était en noir’ (1968) and ‘Stolen Kisses/Baisers volés’ (1968) elevated his profile considerably, and his English language breakthrough came with Fred Zinnemann’s ‘The Day of the Jackal’ (1973). After his encounter with 007, he appeared in high-profile films such as the Oscar-winning ‘Chariots of Fire’ (1981), the acclaimed ‘The Name of the Rose’ (1986), and many others, maintaining a complimentary and highly successful career in French-language cinema. He passed away in 2020 at the age of 89.

Anonymous spy games, unsurprisingly forgotten.

The Bloodsucker Leads the Dance/La sanguisuga conduce la danza (1975)

‘The world is a stage, but sometimes it isn’t.’

A theatre group about to disband after finishing an engagement is invited by a mysterious Count to his private island. However, the leading lady resembles the nobleman’s late wife, and a deadly family curse leads to murder…

Threadbare Gothic horror with a splash of Giallo from French writer-director Alfredo Rizzo. Leading players Femi Benussi, Giacomo Rossi Stuart and Luciano Pigozzi probably didn’t know what they were getting into; at least you have to hope so.

The final curtain has fallen on a touring theatrical troupe in provincial Ireland in 1902. There’s no work on the horizon, and the cast is preparing to split up and go their separate ways. Enter the handsome Count Richard Marnack (Giacomo Rossi Stuart), who invites them to stay at his castle on an island lying just off the coast. Although they have reservations about the idea, the Count is so charming that Evelyn (Patrizia Webley), Cora (Krista Nell), Rosalind (Marzia Damon) and Penny (Lidia Olizzi) agree, dragging the troupe’s gopher, Samuel (Leo Valeriano) along for the ride.

Once installed at the castle, it becomes evident that Rossi Stuart is besotted with leading lady Webley. She happens to look exactly like his wife, who went missing several years earlier and is presumed dead. There’s also a family curse, which began when Stuart’s grandfather decapitated his wife after finding out she was unfaithful. Not to be outdone, his father did the same thing many years later, finishing off by flinging himself from the castle tower into the sea. The troupe settle into their new home, unaware that further episodes will be added to the castle’s bloody history.

This is a pretty woeful production all around, bearing the distinct signs of a rushed, low-effort enterprise. There isn’t enough story for a 90-minute feature with a deadly second act that gets bogged down in a series of dreary sex scenes more suited to the adult entertainment market. Either side of those is a dull, lifeless setup, followed by a series of offscreen killings and a ridiculously flat climax that is 99 parts an exposition dump. So little effort seems to have been made that even the storm and raging seas that strand our protagonists on the island arrive courtesy of mismatched stock footage, which is presented in glorious black and white!

Perhaps recognising the futility of the entire enterprise, the cast operates mainly on autopilot, with the only members trying to bring some life to the proceedings being Nell and Mario De Rosa, who plays butler Jefferson. Unfortunately, both overcompensate, although it’s fair to say that Nell’s horny flirt and De Rosa’s fire and brimstone servant are nothing more than poorly written caricatures. Nominal lead Benussi gets almost nothing to do as housekeeper Sybil except stand around looking sour-faced and then deliver the afore-mentioned exposition to Police Inspector Luigi Batzella, who turns up from somewhere or other in the last ten minutes. Unfortunately, this is supposed to be the film’s dramatic climax. Old reliable Luciano Pigozzi is appropriately slimy as the estate’s combination handyman/gardener/Peeping Tom but, unfortunately, gets minimal screen time and makes no lasting impression.

It doesn’t help with the performances, but the ham-fisted English dub track does deliver some welcome laughs. The voice cast all affect frightfully posh English accents and deliver some wonderfully terrible examples of bad dialogue. These conversational zingers include such gems as: ‘Which is the dagger he used to behead your mother?’ and ‘This room has been so empty…just like my life.’ It’s also clear that many of the characters are just here for the sex scenes and no other purpose. Damon and Olizzi are the token lesbians providing the girl-on-girl action, Pigozzi’s son Mike Monty is a convenient diversion for Nell in his fisherman’s hut and castle maids Mary (Barbara Marzano) and Carol (Susette Nadalutti) feel each other up in a hilariously pointless scene.

In related silliness, Rossi Stuart keeps the dagger used to decapitate his female ancestors hanging on the wall of the dining room. It does look like a nasty weapon, but I’m guessing a killer would need something a little more substantial to behead someone. Perhaps Rizzo’s budget didn’t stretch to an axe or another decent-sized weapon. The killer also helpfully leaves big white footprints on the scarlet carpets of the castle corridors, and the heavy-handed Gothic score from Marcello Giombini turns up in all the wrong places. The film ran into censorship problems in certain territories where the sex scenes were heavily cut. However, in France, they were not only retained but hardcore porn footage was inserted as well! This was almost certainly from another source, but you can’t help but wonder if the unfortunate cast became aware of it.

Rizzo was primarily an actor whose early career was derailed by the Second World War before he worked up a string of minor bits in Italian films after the conflict. He later appeared as a hairdresser in MGM’s epic ‘Quo Vadis’ (1951) and as a Taxi Driver in the Oscar-winning ‘Roman Holiday’ (1953), both of which were shot in Italy. More substantial roles followed in the horror arena with ‘The Playgirls and the Vampire/L’ultima preda del vampiro’ (1960), the ‘Slaughter of the Vampires/La strage dei vampiri/Curse of the Blood Ghouls’ (1962) and ‘Terror Creatures from the Grave/5 tombe per un medium’ (1965). He even turns up in Federico Fellini’s segment of the portmanteau horror ‘Spirits of the Dead/Histoires extraordinaires/Tre passi nel delirio’ (1968). As a director, he was less prolific, with only eight features to his name, although he did work with Pigozzi and Benussi again.

Sadly, this film was a swansong for Nell, born in Austria in 1946. Appearing in films from the age of 19, she debuted in an uncredited role in Jean-Luc Godard’s ‘Pierrot le Fou’ (1965) but snagged leading lady status for serious-minded Eurospy ‘The Beckett Affair/L’affare Beckett’ (1966). She also featured as one of Shirley Eaton’s slave girls in producer Harry Alan Towers’ ‘The Million Eyes of Sumuru’ (1967) and in the all but forgotten ‘Tarzan in the Golden Grotto/Tarzán en la gruta del oro’ (1969). Crime drama ‘Paid in Blood/Quelle sporche anime dannate’ (1970) found her sharing supporting duties with Rizzo, but by the time they reunited for this film, she was seriously ill with leukaemia. Forced to take a lesser role than initially planned, this was her last film. She died just over a month after the film was released at the age of 29.

This film is a train wreck. Please make it stop.

Santo in the Witches Attack/Atacan las brujas/The Witches Attack (1964)

‘Creatures, whose steps shake these dusty spider webs, which imitate diabolical tentacles ready to trap in their web whatever exudes life.’

Nightmares have plagued a young woman since returning to her parent’s house to claim her inheritance. In her dreams, she is abducted by witches to be a human sacrifice, and her only hope is a man in a silver mask…

Legendary Mexican hero and champion of justice, Santo tangles with the supernatural again under the direction of José Díaz Morales. Script duties were in the hands of regular writers Fernando Osés and Rafael García Travesi, who had been involved with other entries, such as ‘Santo and the Vampire Women/Santo vs. las mujeres vampiro’ (1962).

Despite the calming influence of her boyfriend Arturo (Ramón Bugarini), young blonde heiress Ofelia (María Eugenia San Martín) is becoming increasingly nervous. A clause in her late parent’s will means she has to stay in their gloomy old mansion for a year to claim her inheritance, and the atmosphere is getting her down. Every night she dreams of being captured by a witch’s coven led by Mayra (Lorena Velázquez).

All her fears are pure nonsense, of course, as her parents’ old secretary, Elisa (Velázquez, again), is only happy to confirm. Still, Bugarini takes them seriously and is particularly intrigued by her description of a man in a silver mask, realising that it must be Santo. A little investigation reveals that Elisa died 15 years ago, so he reaches out to the wrestler, who is only too happy to look into the matter himself.

This was the first in a four-picture deal Santo inked with producer Luis Enrique Vergara, and their first collaboration is a bit of a disappointment. That’s not to say the film is not entertaining; there’s certainly enough action and bizarre elements for fans of the series. The problems are twofold; firstly, it’s just a rehash of ‘Santo and the Vampire Women/Santo vs. las mujeres vampiro’ (1962); secondly, it’s on a noticeably smaller budget and with none of the gothic style of its predecessor. In short, there’s a little less delivered in every department.

Still, there’s plenty to enjoy. Santo is apparently some kind of P.I. now. He has an office in a tower block with a desk and filing cabinet. No more secret underground lab for him or big screen TV communication hookup with the police department. For the first time in the series, this is Santo out on his own; the authorities never appear. There’s also a brand new element: sex. Velázquez sends her right-hand woman Medusa (Edaena Ruiz), to seduce our hero via the time-honoured technique of a drugged drink and glittery underwear, but, fortunately, Santo finds it all a bit absurd and kicks the door down to escape.

Unfortunately, the lack of budget shows through at times. Almost the first fifteen minutes of the film are one of San Martín’s dreams, and these are some of the same events that happen at the end of the film, although it’s not repeated footage. Bugarini’s car accident is horribly unconvincing, and when Santo climbs over the mansion’s wall, the day suddenly turns into night. The only wrestling in the ring also arrives without warning, or any logic, and proves to be one of the contests from ‘Santo vs. the King of Crime/Santo contra el rey del crimen (1962). It’s easy to tell because there’s actor Augusto Benedico as butler-confidante Matias, cheering him on from his corner.

There is a definite second-hand feel to everything here. High priestess Ruiz resurrects Velázquez at the start of the film. In turn, she invokes their satanic master, Lord of the Shadows. This is beat for beat what happens in ‘Santo and the Vampire Women/Santo vs. las mujeres vampiro’ (1962), which also starred Velázquez in what is effectively the same role. Again, other than Ruiz, her homegirls just stand around as if posing for a photo shoot rather than doing anything, leaving all the action to a trio of nameless male warlocks. One of these is played by Fernando Osés, who fulfilled the same function in the previous film and, as you may recall, was involved with writing both of them.

The more you look at it, the film seems to be an unofficial remake than anything else. After all, the witches can only be killed by daylight, fire or the symbol of the cross, which sounds a lot more like the weaknesses of vampires. There’s one scene where Velázquez uses her hypnotic powers to get San Martín to take off the crucifix she’s wearing for protection and another where Santo chases some of the witches with burning torches, and they turn into bats! San Martín’s opening voiceover even includes the line, ‘They are ready to drink my blood and transform into a creature of the darkness.’

So it’s not that far a stretch to suggest that Velázquez and her girl gang were initially written as vampires, and the change to witches came late on in the production process. The film also includes a somewhat baffling disclaimer at the start stating that ‘all the characters are imaginary and fictitious’, which is an oddly redundant thing for the filmmakers to include in a movie about supernatural witches! It’s also inaccurate because Santo is a real person, playing himself!

There’s also a generally agreed release date of 1968, placing it after the other three films Santo made for producer Vergara and seemingly four years after it was shot. Could legal action of some sort have delayed the release? Mexican fantastic cinema of the period ruthlessly recycled plots, ideas and concepts over and over again, but perhaps this instance of commonality was a little too close for comfort? It’s worth remembering that Santo had broken with his old associates to sign with Vergara.

Vergara entered the film business as a producer in the late 1940s and first enjoyed success with the three-part film story of ‘The Black Whip’ (1958), who was played by Luis Aguilar and wasn’t anything like Zorro. After signing up Santo, he also helped bring the wrestler’s main rival, Blue Demon, to the screen with ‘Blue Demon: El Demonio Azul’ (1965). Further projects with Blue followed, and the producer also recruited horror royalty John Carradine and Boris Karloff to appear in multiple productions toward the end of the decade, although sadly never together. The Karloff films were all completed after his death, and Vergara also has a script credit on the last one, the atrocious science-fiction horror ‘The Incredible Invasion’ (1971). It was the final credit for them both.

Good fun on its own terms, but probably best not to compare it to a certain earlier entry in the series.

Santo will return in ‘The Diabolical Hatchet/Santo vs. the Diabolical Hatchet/El hacha diabólica’ (1965)

Solaris/Solyaris (1972)

‘We don’t need other worlds; we need a mirror.’

After years of fruitless research and observations, the space station orbiting the planet Solaris is manned only by a skeleton crew. All attempts to communicate with the sentient ocean covering the planet’s surface have failed, but a last-ditch experiment has surprising consequences…

Philosophical science fiction courtesy of acclaimed Soviet director Andrei Tarkovsky. This famous adaptation of Polish author Stanislaw Lem’s novel stars Donatas Banionis, Natalya Bondarchuk, and Jüri Järvet.

It’s the last days on Earth for psychologist Kris Kelvin (Banionis), who is shipping out on an interplanetary mission, destination Solaris and the research station in orbit around it. An apparently sentient ocean covers the planet, but little more is known despite close study lasting many years. Now, communications from the station have become erratic, and the viability of the station’s future called into question. Banionis has been tasked with making an on-the-spot evaluation of conditions and making recommendations. Saying goodbye to his estranged father (Nikolai Grinko) is difficult, further complicated by the arrival of ex-astronaut Henri Burton (Vladislav Dvorzhetsky), who has tales of tell of his time on the station. During an emergency, he flew low over the planet and saw strange visions, including that of a four-metre-high child formed by the ocean. However, his observations were discredited when onboard camera footage showed nothing of what he described.

When Banionis arrives at the station after the necessary spaceflight, none of the three-man crew is there to welcome him, not mission commander Dr Gibarian (Sos Sargsyan), cyberneticist Dr Snaut (Jüri Järvet) or astrobiologist Dr Sartorius (Anatoly Solonitsyn). The station is also in poor repair, and when he finds someone, it’s Järvet, and he is drunk. What he says makes little sense beyond the fact that Sargsyan is dead, a likely suicide, and Solonitsyn has barricaded himself inside his laboratory and will see no one. Leaving these mysteries for the following day, Banionis goes to bed, only to wake up and find that he is not alone. Sharing his cabin is Hari (Natalya Bondarchuk), his wife who committed suicide ten years earlier. She seems to be a flesh and blood woman, although her memories of their life together are fragmentary and confused. Banionis panics and shoots her off into space in an escape capsule but discovers from Järvet that she will return the next time he sleeps.

Much has been written over the years about Tarkovsky’s work, and this film is regarded as one of the cornerstones of his artistic legacy. Although much of science-fiction literature wrestles with questions of what it means to be human and our place among the stars, these are not themes generally embraced in cinema, where more commercial considerations take precedence. Tarkovsky’s film is often inaccurately compared to Stanley Kubrick’s ‘2001: A Space Odyssey’ (1968), a movie that the director reportedly disliked due to what he considered a lack of a human element. That’s something the director placed at the centre of his story, much to the disapproval of original novelist Stanislaw Lem. The Polish writer was initially involved with the project’s development but departed over creative differences and later somewhat facetiously referred to the film as ‘love in outer space.’ The fact that the film has inspired so much commentary and interpretation over the years puts paid to that opinion.

The film opens with Banionis staying at his father’s cottage in the idyllic Russian countryside. Tarkovsky’s camera lingers on the beauties of nature, but the strained father and son relationship gives the scenes a feeling of sweet melancholia. The exact family dynamics in play remain obscure, but both men are closed off emotionally and unable to articulate their feelings for each other. These scenes also establish the contrast between the warmth and vitality of our home world and the cold, alienating vastness of space, as well as one of the director’s most recurrent themes: a yearning for the lost days of the past. This part of the film lasts over 40 minutes, fleshed out by the arrival of ex-astronaut Dvorzhetsky and his tales of Solaris. Eventually, he departs, and we see him drive into the city, a long, five-minute sequence that seems pointless. This sequence was filmed on location in Tokyo, and some have argued that it’s in the film to justify the expense of sending the director and his small crew to Japan, something which would have involved the likely reluctant permission of the Soviet authorities. Others have suggested that the footage of traffic, tunnels and concrete overpasses would have looked quite futuristic to a Soviet audience of the time if not to an international one.

The drama that follows contains many ambiguities and talking points, with conclusions mainly a matter of personal interpretation. The purpose of the visitors remains unrevealed. Are they an attempt to communicate, intended as a gift or an attempt at retaliation after the crew has bombarded the planet’s surface with X-rays? It seems like a punishment to Banionis, at least at first, as his desertion back on Earth ten years earlier prompted the real Bondarchuk to commit suicide. Crucially, the audience never learns the identity of the other visitors. However, it’s clear that neither Järvet nor Solonitsyn is happy with their unearthly lodgers, suggesting more guilty secrets from the past that lie untold. These uncertainties even extend to small details, such as items appearing in the background in the crew’s quarters. Several of these mirror objects from Grinko’s cottage back on Earth, which, given the film’s ending, raises the somewhat unlikely possibility that Banionis has been on Solaris the whole time.

Despite Lem’s misgivings, the developing relationship between Banionis and Bondarchuk is essential and allows for many of Tarkovsky’s themes and questions to be brought to the table. It’s certainly not played in the way the original author may have feared; it’s firmly downbeat and underplayed, particularly well by Bondarchuk. The resulting audience investment in the couple allows more resonance to some of the film’s most breathtaking visual moments, such as the weightless sequence in the station library. It’s also a stroke of genius that the human side of the drama is accessible through Bondarchuk’s non-human character rather than the emotionally stunted Banionis or his jaded, paranoid crew mates. As time passes, she begins to learn about love, pain and regret and, finally, achieves independent action. It’s her journey that provides the necessary emotional core of the film.

The SFX are of their time, but the models and miniatures hold up surprisingly well for the most part, and the internal landscape of the station is impressively functional. It’s only on rewatching that you realise how little of these interiors are shown, but what does appear is a well-judged chaos of cluttered cabins and ageing technology, systems wearing out due to lack of attention, investment and the passage of time. The ocean was created by mixing an acetone solution, various dyes and aluminium powder. There was likely neither the budget nor the necessary expertise on hand to create the kind of oceanic formations envisioned in the novel by Lem. However, it’s still an effective representation of an alien world, aided by the sparse score of Edvard Artemyev and the repeated use of an ethereal organ prelude by German composer Johann Sebastian Bach.

In the broadest sense, Tarkovsky seems to be musing on the futility of roaming amongst the stars, suggesting that such explorations will not answer any of our fundamental questions about humanity and the universe we inhabit. First contact with an alien life form will just provide more questions rather than resolve any issues. For those, we should turn to each other. To paraphrase Shakespeare, the answers lay not in the stars but in ourselves. Of course, that’s just one interpretation of many.

Tarkovsky was born in Russia in 1932, and pursued an education in several different fields before turning to film in 1954 when he began studying at the State Institute of Cinematography. He began writing scripts in collaboration with fellow student Andrei Konchalovsky in 1959, one of which Tarkovsky directed as his graduation project, which won 1st Prize at the New York Student Film Festival in 1961. His first feature followed a year later, when he replaced Eduard Abalov in the director’s chair on the superb war drama ‘Ivan’s Childhood/Ivanovo detstvo’ (1962) after the production was initially shut down by authorities. The resulting film won awards at the Venice and San Francisco International Film Festivals. It was also submitted as the Soviet entry for Best Foreign Language Film at the 1962 Academy Awards, although it was not subsequently nominated.

Rewarded with a large budget for his next project ‘Andrei Rublev/Andrey Rublyov’ (1965), Tarkovsky began to have problems with the Soviet authorities. The director was forced to cut and re-cut the finished film several times, and despite winning a prize from the International Federation of Film Critics in 1969, the film was only released in the Soviet Union two years later in a truncated version. There were more domestic release problems around ‘Mirror/Zerkalo’ (1974), and the historical drama ‘The First Day’ was shut down mid-shoot by the Soviet authorities in 1979. He travelled to Italy to make ‘Nostalgia/Nostalghia’ (1983), and when state financing was withdrawn, he secured alternative backing to finish the project and never returned to the Soviet Union. He shot one more film, ‘The Sacrifice/Offret’ (1986), before succumbing to cancer in the final days of 1986. Given that his wife and one of the principal actors in ‘Stalker’ (1979) eventually contracted the same type of cancer, possible leaks from a chemical plant close to the shooting location have been cited as a likely cause.

A film that rewards multiple viewings and still leaves you wanting more. A captivating and fascinating work.

Calling All Police Cars/…a tutte le auto della polizia… (1975)

‘Why are you wearing that damn hat?’

When the teenage daughter of a prominent surgeon goes missing, police in Rome throw a dragnet across the city. Eventually, her dead body is found in a lake on the outskirts, and the coroner establishes that she was shot in the back…

Police procedural with a touch of the Giallo from director Mario Caiano. Antonio Sabato and Luciana Paluzzi lead the investigation under the watchful eye of police chief Enrico Maria Salerno.

It seems like just another ordinary evening for well-connected surgeon Professore Andrea Icardi (Gabriele Ferzetti) when he gets home from his private clinic. Wife Emilia (Bedy Moratti) is out playing cards with friends and daughter Fiorella (Adriana Falco) has a study date with a schoolfriend. However, he gets worried when Moratti returns, but Falco is overdue. A quick telephone call establishes that the study date was pure fiction and she is missing. Using his influence with a local Senator, Ferzetti gets the situation straight to the desk of Police Chief Carraro (Salerno), and a city-wide search begins.

Unfortunately, tracker dogs find her body in a remote lake on the outskirts of the city. She’s been murdered, and Salerno assigns chief investigators Commissario Fernando Solmi (Sabato) and Ispettrice Giovanna Nunziante (Paluzzi) to the case. The autopsy reveals that the victim was no longer a virgin and pregnant as well, providing the killer with a probable motive. The investigators turn their attention to Ferzetti’s social circle, convinced that she knew her killer. However, they also discover that some of her school friends are involved in a teenage prostitution racket whose clients include some of the most prominent men in the city. Salerno comes under pressure to close the case quickly by pinning the killing on Enrico Tummoli (Ettore Manni), a peeping tom who runs a restaurant by the lake.

After a highly successful run in the early 1970s, the popularity of the Giallo thriller was fading by the middle of the decade, increasingly eclipsed by the rising stock of Italian crime films known collectively as Poliziotteschi. The suspense and horrors of a whodunnit murder mystery were suddenly taking a back seat to heists, shootouts and car chases, which often pitted the authorities against organised crime with political connections. Such projects also proved popular on the small screen with shows such as ‘Qui squadra mobile’ which ran from 1973 to 1976. Writers on that show included Massimo Felisatti and Fabio Pittorru, who originated the screenplay for this film. They even used the two principal investigators from the TV show, although the roles were recast with Sabato and Paluzzi, presumably for their box office clout.

However, the most notable fact is that the plot bares more than a slight resemblance to the far superior ‘What Have They Done To Your Daughters?/La polizia chiede aiuto’ (1974), a film that also revolved around high political figures involved with organised schoolgirl prostitution. It’s unfortunate that Caiano’s film arrived so hot on the heels of its predecessor because it makes comparisons inevitable, and his effort comes off as a poor second-best. Clearly, he was aiming for a grounded, almost documentary feel, but the results are flat and unengaging. This also may have resulted from having writers used to working for the small screen as their combined efforts seem to have little ambition.

On the one hand, it’s refreshing that these cops are ordinary working joes, interviewing witnesses, chasing down commonplace leads, and pounding the pavements for clues rather than displaying great leaps in logic or sudden, blinding insights. The absence of any private life soap opera theatrics in their backgrounds is also very welcome. However, this leaves the cast struggling to build engaging performances when all they are required to do is react to events in their official capacities. This may have been quite the disappointment for Paluzzi, who was probably relieved to get a change of pace from the femme fatales and glamour girls she’d been playing throughout much of her career. Unfortunately, her character ultimately proves to be rather peripheral to the action and disappears almost entirely from the second half of the film.

So, what’s left to discuss if both mystery and characters lack colour? Well, Caiano is able to put across some notion of the corrupt political machine pulling strings from high places, although a lot of that is down to Salerno. He gives the film’s best performance as the conflicted police chief, under pressure to resolve the case without embarrassing the establishment. On more than one occasion, he tries to convince Sabato to accept a convenient solution but can’t quite bring himself to insist on it. The social commentary is also a strength, particularly in the opening act. Although Moratti is clearly an absent wife and mother, Ferzetti believes himself fully engaged in parenthood, boasting of a close relationship with his daughter that has full disclosure. This is quickly exposed as totally delusional when Falco’s long-running physical relationship with her likely killer comes to light. There’s no time to explore this aspect of the drama at any length as the investigation takes precedence, but it’s effective and provides Ferzetti with a couple of good dramatic moments.

The Giallo elements arrive late in the story as the killer starts trying to cover his tracks when the police get too close for comfort. In the spirit of a grounded drama, there is nothing extravagant about these subsequent murders. However, there are a couple of gory moments, particularly the death of the gynaecologist played by familiar face Franco Ressel. The reveal of the killer’s identity is resolutely undramatic, and there are no twists to the tale, but that’s only in keeping with the nature of the presentation. Crime can be predictable and strangely mundane, after all.

Caiano was the son of film producer Carlo Caiano and began his apprenticeship in the industry while simultaneously studying in college. His first recognised credits were as a second assistant director in the 1950s, where he worked for directors such as Riccardo Freda on ‘Da qui all’eredità’ (1955), Edgar G Ulmer on ‘Journey Beneath the Desert/Antinea, l’amante della città sepolta’ (1961) and many times for Sergio Grieco. He debuted as a director in his own right on the surprisingly enjoyable ‘Ulysses Against Hercules/Ulisse contro Ercole/Ulysses vs Hercules (1962), tackled horror with Barbara Steele in ‘Nightmare Castle/Amanti d’oltretomba/The Faceless Monster (1965) and the world of the Eurospy with ‘Spies Strike Silently/Le Spie Uccidono In Silenzio (1966). His other flirtation with the Giallo was the solid entry ‘Eye in the Labyrinth/L’occhio nel labirinto (1972) and he made many Spaghetti Westerns of which ‘Ride and Kill/Brandy/Cavalca e uccidi’ (1964) and ‘A Coffin for the Sheriff/Una bara per lo sceriffo/Lone and Angry Man’ (1965) are worth seeking out.

An efficient production but little to write home about.

The Twin Pawns (1919)

‘She was so sweet, but now she’s raving mad.’

A sickly young woman on the wrong side of the tracks falls into the clutches of a confidence trickster when he discovers that she is the daughter of a wealthy industrialist. Telling the tycoon that she has died, he plans to swap her with her twin sister, who is the acknowledged heir to his fortune…

A contemporary adaptation of Wilkie Collins’ Victorian melodrama, The Woman in White, by director Léonce Perret. Mae Murray plays the twins, and Warner Oland brings the villainy.

Separated at birth, twins Daisy and Violet White (Murray) have grown up at opposite ends of the food chain. Violet has been raised in privilege and wealth by her father, industrialist Harry White (J W Johnston). On the other hand, Daisy is living in poverty with her mother (Edythe Chapman), whose health is failing and has no idea of her origins. Circumstances conspire so that Chapman’s dying words are heard only by confidence man, John Bent (Oland). She confesses the identity of Daisy’s father and guides him to the documents that prove it. A lucky bet at the track gives Oland the necessary capital to launch a sinister campaign, and he puts Daisy into Franklin College, an exclusive girl’s boarding school.

Oland goes to Johnston but tells him that Daisy is dead and hands over the documents he took from her mother. Impressed by the man’s apparent honesty, Johnston offers him a management position at his factory and accepts him as a friend. Meanwhile, Violet has fallen in love with engineer Bob Anderson (Henry G Sell), which throws a wrench into Oland’s plans. Fortunately for him, Johnston is fatally injured in an accidental explosion at the factory’s laboratory. On his deathbed, the tycoon extracts a promise from Violet to marry Oland. Afterwards, she refuses, but he is persistent and eventually drugs her so he can swap the sisters around and put Violet in an asylum.

Wilkie Collins’ famous novel has been adapted for both big and small screens on multiple occasions, with four versions already released before this one. Ernest C Warde’s more traditional version, ‘The Woman In White/The Unfortunate Marriage’ (1917), being the most noteworthy. Writer-director Perrett elects to bring the story into contemporary times instead, bringing it to America and setting it in the world of big business. However, the film never bothers to explain the nature of Johnston’s business. He just has a big factory with a lab attached, where he mixes chemicals with an insufficient regard for health & safety.

Without the Victorian trappings that usually come with this story, there’s inevitably a complete absence of the gothic atmosphere that’s one of its most enjoyable aspects. However, despite the lack of opportunities for outlandish flourishes and stylish visuals, Perrett does manage some creative shot framing. There’s also some cross-cutting between events happening simultaneously, a basic filmmaking technique by today’s standards but quite sophisticated for this era. His story adaptation is also quite neat, covering the novel’s major points, although some aspects do push the audience’s suspension of disbelief somewhat.

These issues mainly concern Johnston’s immediate trust in Oland’s sneaky fraudster. For ‘Uniontown’s biggest industrialist’, he’s a surprisingly easy mark, immediately handing Oland the job of running his factory when the man he has hired writes to refuse the post. In short order, Oland’s quickfire temper has made relations with the workforce so bad that they propose to strike after he tells one man off for smoking in a prohibited area. Worse still, Johnston’s so eager for Violet to marry the crook that he extracts that promise from her on his deathbed. Elsewhere, there’s also a heavy reliance on a lot of coincidence, with one event after another generating circumstances that assist in Oland’s skullduggery. It’s almost as if fate keeps intervening on his behalf because the idea that he’s planned everything from the start is beyond ridiculous. He’s certainly not that bright, changing the company name from ‘White, Otis & Co’ to ‘Bent’ in what is probably not the greatest rebranding in business history.

Performances are solid throughout, and it’s particularly interesting to see a slim, young Oland playing a thorough rotter. After working regularly for the next dozen years, he became an unlikely star as the rotund, amiable, Confucius-quoting Chinese detective Charlie Chan. Murray also does well in her dual assignment. Neither of the twins is a very nuanced character, but as Violet, she has to go from flighty and fun-loving to grief-stricken and distraught to feisty and defiant, and she manages the transitions convincingly. Both stars also display a minimum of the exaggerated gesturing that has defined silent movie acting to the uninitiated.

Murray was born Marie Adrienne Koenig in New York in 1885 and first found fame as a dancer on Broadway. After several assignments as a chorus girl, she joined the celebrated Ziegfeld Follies, eventually becoming a headliner in 1915. Subsequent work found her dancing with future film stars Rudolph Valentino and John Gilbert. Making a move into films in 1916, she was almost an instant hit in a series of romantic comedies and dramas for producer Jesse L Lasky. More success followed at Universal with hits such as ‘Modern Love’ (1918) and ‘Big Little Person’ (1919), which co-starred Valentino. After some freelancing, she landed at MGM, where she made her most famous film, ‘The Merry Widow’ (1925), for Erich Von Stroheim. Unfortunately, the arrival of talkies derailed her career, with her first sound film ‘Peacock Alley’ (1930), failing at the box office despite being a remake of her 1922 silent hit. Her husband at the time, Prince David Mdvani, advised her to leave the studio, and the decision effectively ended her career. In later life, Murray struggled with health issues and lived in poverty after being declared bankrupt. She passed away in the Motion Picture Country Home in Woodland Hills in 1965.

Acceptable retelling of a familiar story. It’s best to avoid comparing it to the 1917 version, though.

Reflections in Black/Il vizio ha le calze nere (1975)

‘You go for a haircut, you two; you look like ape-men.’

Two women are murdered separately by a killer with a razor. The investigating police inspector discovers that the two victims knew each other and moved in the same social circles…

Undistinguished, forgettable Giallo whodunnit from Italian actor-director Tano Cimarosa. John Richardson’s quest for a killer involves Dagmar Lassander, Ninetto Davoli and Magda Konopka.

Answering the door turns out to be a terrible idea for ex-hairdresser and escort Ligari ‘Nelly’ Concetta (Daniela Giordano). Chased out into the night, she’s brutally slain in a public phone box with a straight razor. The same fate befalls Emma Giorgi (Giovanna D’Albore) a couple of nights later, and although her boyfriend survives the attack, he cannot identify the mysterious killer. Investigating the crimes are Chief Lavina (Richardson), Sgt Pantò (director Cimarosa) and young detective Jerry Manzoni (Gianni Williams). Richardson soon discovers the two victims are connected through the high-class hairdressing salon run by Mario (Giovanni Brusadori).

Tracking down their mutual friends and acquaintances, the detectives find a solid connection to Leonora (Lassander), the wife of high-flying lawyer and aspiring politician Anselmi (Giacomo Rossi Stuart). Richardson must tread carefully, though, as they are relatives of the aristocratic and highly influential Orselmo family. Another lead is provided by small-time pimp and drug dealer Sandro Lucetti (Davoli), whose clientele includes Marco (Livio Galassi), the unbalanced son of Countess Orselmo (Konopka). As the body count rises, the police find themselves under pressure to unravel the mystery and unmask the killer.

Giallo enthusiasts will find themselves on very familiar ground here, with a typical ‘who is the killer?’ plot, a fair amount of casual nudity and a gallery of likely suspects slowly diminishing as the body count escalates. By this point, it’s all a little tired, but with enough creativity and the correct handling, it’s still the solid basis for a good thriller. Sadly, there’s little evidence of such qualities here. The script throws plenty of content and incidents at the screen, but it all feels second-hand and needs more invention. It could be argued that there is some effort to provide social commentary and even a political dimension as the private lives of supposedly respectable pillars of society are exposed. However, these aspects never feel tightly woven into the story in the same way as they are in superior examples such as ‘What Have You Done To Solange?/Cosa avete fatto a Solange? (1972) or ‘What Have They Done To Your Daughters?/La polizia chiede aiuto (1974).

Richardson also has a rather thankless lead role, mainly barking out orders and reacting to circumstances. The script provides him with no character moments, and he’s also sidelined through some of the investigation. Perhaps inevitably, as he was also serving as director, Cimarosa gets the showier role as Richardson’s Sergeant. Despite expressing some unenlightened attitudes, he’s the only one of our heroes who demonstrates any significant personality. Although he’s certainly not a ‘comedy sidekick’ in any sense, he does get a few humorous lines, and there’s a fun moment when he loses a suspect that he’s following by chatting up a blonde passerby and her cute dog.

The mystery itself is also on the unremarkable side, and the five-minute wrap-up at the end to explain everything feels completely unnecessary. It’s not difficult to guess who the killer is, especially given that there are fewer and fewer suspects left standing as the story develops. The murders are a little gory but are shot without any real imagination. However, it must be noted that I could only source a poor-quality print for this review, and the picture had been cropped, likely for television or transfer to video cassette in the early days of home rental. Obviously, it’s not the best way to appreciate a film, so any comment here on the visual aspects has to be qualified.

Rossi-Stuart was a staple of Italian cinema throughout the latter half of the 20th Century and appeared in just shy of 100 films. Debuting in the early 1950s in minor roles, he even appeared briefly in David O Selznick’s ill-fated remake of Hemingway’s ‘A Farewell to Arms’ (1957). He began working for director Mario Bava with ‘The Day the Sky Exploded/La morte viene dallo spazio’ (1958) and had similar supporting roles in the director’s ‘Caltiki, the Immortal Monster/Caltiki il mostro immortale’ (1959), ‘Knives of the Avenger/I coltelli del vendicatore’ (1966) and ‘Kill, Baby… Kill!/Operazione paura’ (1966).

By that time, he was even getting the occasional lead, such as in halfway decent Spaghetti Western ‘Degueyo’ (1966) and as Cmdr Rod Jackson in two of Antonio Margheriti’s four films about Space Station Gamma One, ‘War Between the Planets/Il Planeta Errante’ (1966) and ‘Snow Devils/La morte viene dal pianeta Aytin (1967). However, by the end of the decade, he was back to supporting roles, with the occasional exception. He even turns up, very briefly, in ‘The Godfather’ (1972) but is likely to be best remembered for his key role opposite Vincent Price in ‘The Last Man on Earth’ (1964). He passed away in 1994 at the age of 69.

It’s a film so routine that it barely registers.

Maciste, the World’s Strongest Gladiator/Maciste, l’uomo più forte del mondo/Colossus of the Arena/Death on the Arena (1962)

‘Who said you could sit among my apples?’

After the accidental death of the king, his eldest daughter assumes the throne of Mersabad. However, certain factions plot to assassinate her, and their plans come to the attention of a mighty warrior…

More palace intrigue and strongman duties for the heroic Maciste, this time appearing in the person of Italian-America bodybuilder Mark Forest. Michele Lupo directs from a script by Lionello De Felice and Ernesto Guida.

The kingdom of Mersabad is about a get a new monarch with the impending coronation of Princess Thalima (Scilla Gabel). However, when she announces at court that she intends to follow her late father’s just and liberal policies, it doesn’t go down well with Prince Oniris (Erno Crisa) and the rest of the aristocracy. Meanwhile, shady fixer Vittorio Sanipoli is busy recruiting seven mercenaries at the behest of a mysterious paymaster, planning to have them replace gladiators at the celebration of Gabel’s ascension.

While awaiting orders, Sanipoli’s men trash a tavern, which happens to be the local of the warrior Maciste (Forest). He rushes to the scene but arrives too late to engage the villains. Trailing them to the city, he manages to join the gang, even saving the life of the young Menides (Maurizio Conti). He soon discovers they plan to abduct Gabel on the eve of her coronation, ensuring that her sister Rasia (José Greci) will take the throne. Unconscious after being drugged, it seems he can do nothing to prevent the plan’s success.

Well-paced and breezy addition to the Peplum genre, which fails to mesh some comedy with its more serious intent but otherwise delivers an entertaining enough package. The concept of an evil version of ‘The Magnificent Seven’ (1960) is well-handled for the most part, although inevitably, none of the members are rewarded with any significant character development. Among their ranks are several familiar faces from Peplum; Alfio Caltabiano, Claudio Scarchilli, Pietro Ceccarelli and Dan Vadis. Most were limited to supporting roles throughout the cycle, but Vadis graduated to portray both Hercules and Ursus.

This entry in the cycle is particularly notable for some energetic, well-staged swordplay and a surprisingly smart script. If the story’s events often seem like just a build-up to Forest facing off against the bad guys in the arena at the end, yes, of course, they are, but there are enough story threads and characters to keep things interesting on the way. There’s also no evil Queen for a change. Gabel may have a hard stare that can freeze a flaming torch at a hundred paces, but it’s reserved for wrong-doers and the entitled nobles of her court. Sister Greci may make some bad decisions and get to sit in the big chair, but she’s blinded with love for Crisa and has a complete change of heart by the climax.

It’s also unusual that there’s no ‘trial of strength’ for Forest, in the arena or otherwise. In fact, little is made of the character’s super strength; the action focused instead on his combat abilities, which reflects the film’s original title. He does duke it out with Vadis in a waterfall in a memorable scene, but it’s mostly about the swordplay. Judging by what’s on screen, a greater level of technical expertise was available for handling the weapons than usual. There are also a few surprisingly gory moments where Lupo’s camera lingers at the moment of death. Nothing is that graphic, but such kills tended to be mostly bloodless at the time. Some commentators have pointed out that several individual moments foreshadow events in Ridley Scott’s Oscar-winning ‘Gladiator’ (2000), and the number of them lends some credibility to this argument.

Unfortunately, some of this serious drama is undermined by an overuse of dumb comedy. Forest acquires sidekick Wambo (Jon Chevron) at the tavern, and rather inexplicably, he’s allowed to join gladiator training. Lupo then allows the actor to mug outrageously for the camera and gives him a succession of stupid moments, including a sword fight with Cleopatra, the chimp and taking part in one battle disguised as a sheep! He also attends the final scenes in the arena dressed in drag for no apparent reason. Thankfully, all this tiresome nonsense is not enough to derail things completely. There’s nothing wrong with trying to bring a lighter touch to the genre, of course, but when the rest of your film includes scenes of innocent villagers being tortured, raped and slaughtered, it could be argued that it’s a little out of place.

Forest makes an adequately personable hero, although he certainly doesn’t display the charisma of the best strongmen of the Peplum era. Vadis has a shot at being included as one of them, even if he has little acting here to do here, and his debut as Hercules in ‘Hercules The Invincible/Ercole invincible/The Sons of Hercules in the Land of Darkness (1964) was more than a little shaky. Still, he improved by leaps and bounds and was pretty effective in his later muscleman roles.

The production values are also good, allowing for a decent level of spectacle, even if the film doesn’t boast the large-scale sets of the best in the genre. Curiously the production company behind this effort is credited as ‘Leone Films’, so it would be reasonable to assume some involvement from world-famous director Sergio Leone. He was still two years away from ‘A Fistful of Dollars/Per un pugno di dollari’ (1964) but had been active in the industry for some years and had already debuted as a director with the superior historical epic ‘The Colossus of Rhodes/Il colosso di Rodi’ (1961). However, Leone was apparently less than impressed with the Peplum cycle in general and the producers who offered him the opportunity to participate. ‘I warned them that if they so much as mentioned the word ‘Maciste’ I would spit…’ he was quoted as saying in later years. So, it seems the production company’s name is likely just a coincidence.

A better example of Peplum than most.