The Night Evelyn Came Out of the Grave (Emilio Miraglia, 1971)

When it comes to writing about The Night Evelyn Came Out of the Grave (a.k.a. La notte che Evelyn uscì dalla tomba), what aspect of the film should receive the full force of my world class attention: A) The many pairs of colourful trousers worn by the male lead; B) The part where a handicapped woman is devoured by foxes; C) The catchy music score by Bruno Nicolai; or D) The fact that Anthony Steffen's character, "Lord Cunningham," has a thing for redheads and thigh-high leather boots? Don't you mean redheads in thigh-high leather boots? Isn't that what I just said? No, you made it sound like he has a thing for redheads and thigh-high leather boots separately. When it's obvious he likes them together. Meaning, he has a thing for redheads who wear thigh-high leather boots. Anyway, which is it? Which is what? Which aspect should I focus on, A, B, C, or D? Duh, squared! Go with D, man. Why are you pretending that you're going do otherwise? I don't know, I guess I just wanted to see you squirm a little bit. Well, I hope you know, you almost gave me a heart attack. I'm sorry about that. Just for the record, the protagonist's obsession with redheads in thigh-high leather boots was always going to be the centre of my attention. Hell, even before I sat down to watch the film, directed Emilio Miraglia, I knew the redheads in thigh-high leather boots angle was going to be the focal point of my interest. How did I know? Let's just say a little bird told me that the main character had a thing for redheads. But get this, the smallish bird-like creature said nothing about thigh-high leather boots. You know what that means? Exactly.

Actually, I have no idea what that means. Nevertheless, prepare to be bombarded by an unending concourse of creamy, unblemished thighs poking out from the tops of thigh-high leather boots. Truth be told, Emilio Miraglia is no Jess Franco. In other words, I thought the parts of the film that involved thigh-high leather boots could have been more perverted, more pornographic. Don't let that get you down, though. The film is still pretty sleazy.

Does the fact The Night Evelyn Came Out of the Grave opens with "Lord Cunningham," Alan, to his friends, trying to bust out of a mental asylum mean that everything that occurs throughout this film is only taking place within the overcrowded confines of his Thorazine-soaked brain? Wow, I never thought of that. It does explain the fact that half of what goes on in this film doesn't make a lick of sense.

At any rate, after the loony bin break out scene, which ends in failure, by the way, and the Bruno Nicolai scored opening credits have finished, we meet a more dapper-looking Alan as he's putting the finishing touches on a redheaded prostitute named Polly (Maria Teresa Tofano). What do I mean, "putting the finishing touches on"? Well, before Alan can seal the deal, as they say, he first must check to make sure Polly isn't wearing a wig. Instead of politely asking Polly if that is in fact her real hair, Alan simply pulls on it. Of course, Polly is none to pleased by this act of follicle grabbiness. Nevertheless, it's important to Alan that the women he's paying to have "sex" with him be genuine redheads.

Paying Polly two hundred quid (the film takes place in England) to come home with him, and three hundred extra to perform something "special," Alan takes her to his castle in the country. While the inside of the castle looks like a gothic nightmare, Alan insists that some of the rooms are habitable. And, boy, he wasn't kidding. Declaring it "marvelous" and "so chic," Polly is amazed when she enters this swinging bachelor pad straight out of a successful drug dealer's subconscious.

When Polly complains that she's got nothing sexy to wear, Alan flings open about four closets worth of lingerie; I dig this guy's style. If you liked that, you'll love his sadomasochism room. Remember that extra three hundred pounds I alluded to that involved Polly performing something "special"? Well, it turns out special means sadomasochism. With a record player already cued to play Bruno Nicolai music that is sado-friendly, Polly begins to dance for Alan, who is sitting on a throne. Grabbing a whip, Polly starts snapping the whip in a playful manner. Obviously growing tired of her antics, Alan instructs Polly to drop the whip and put those boots on. When Alan said this, I was like, yes! Put those thigh-high leather boots on, you redheaded harlot. Telling her "you're exciting with boots on," Alan is clearly a fan of redheads who wear thigh-high leather boots. You don't say? It's true, it's kind of his thing.

Is stabbing redheads in thigh-high leather boots kind of his thing, too? "Cause that's totally what he's doing right now. It should be noted that before anyone gets stabbed, Alan has a brief hallucinatory vision about Evelyn, his redheaded wife who apparently died not-so long ago.

Concerned for his health, Alan's doctor pal Dr. Timberlane (Giacomo Rossi-Stuart) tries to get him to live a more active lifestyle. Having none of it, Alan, who is wearing a red trousers with a matching blazer, decides conduct a séance, complete with a crazed-looking woman named Miranda, in order to free himself from this nightmare existence. Attended by his cousin George (Enzo Tarascio), an unabashed swinger, and Aunt Agatha (Joan C. Davis), who seems to view wheelchairs the same way Guy Caballero does ("for respect!), the séance ends with Alan fainting.

The next morning, out near the fox pen, George, ever the enabler, tells Alan that he should go to London, as the city, according to him, is crawling with redheads.

Taking his advice, Alan goes to a London nightclub where Susie (Erika Blanc) is about to perform her burlesque show. Brought out in a coffin, Susie emerges wearing pink panties and lacy blue stockings. However, I don't think Alan was interested in her panties or her stockings. No, Alan is clearly drawn to the large (made even larger with the help of a scrunchie) mane of red hair that sits atop her gorgeous head.

As Erika gyrated to the groovy music, I thought to myself: Now this is what Eurosleaze is supposed to look like.

After the show, Alan has a drink with Susie. You know what's going to happen next. Right on schedule, Alan grabs at Susie's hair. It's real! You can forget about foreplay, as Alan whisks Susie straight to his sadomasochism room. Still wearing the pink panties she had on during her performance, Susie is told to put on a pair of thigh-high leather boots. I wonder if they're the same boots Polly had on during her stay in the sadomasochism room, or does he have a limitless supply of thigh-high leather boots. No, seriously, I wonder about these sort of things (it's a sickness). Whatever, Susie is zipping up the boots as we speak. Yeah, baby! Zip those boots up. Make sure they're on tight.

Realizing that he can't go on like this forever, Alan decides to take Dr. Timberlane's advice and try to find a woman, a non-redheaded woman, to settle down with. A woman who isn't a redhead?!? I know, it's pretty crazy. But apparently they're millions of non-redheads roaming around out there. Telling a woman he meets at a party that "there's something different about you," Alan is on the fast-track to matrimonial bliss.

Who's the lucky gal, you ask? Her name is Gladys (Marina Malfatti), she's blonde and she's fabulous. A fabulous blonde, eh? I don't know, this sounds like it could end badly. I mean, a non-redhead who's fabulous to boot? Sounds a little far-fetched, if you ask me.

Returning to his newly refurbished castle a married man, Alan introduces his new blonde bride to Aunt Agatha and the castle's maid staff. You'll notice that all the maids are wearing blonde afro wigs. The reason for the blonde wigs, I can only guess, is to placate Alan's obsession with redheads. Either way, the sight of five maids all in blonde afro wigs is one of the film's more memorable images.

Given Alan's shaky track record with women, how long do you think before he starts demanding that his wife dye her hair red? I give him five days. Actually, Alan's not the one everyone should be worried about. No, there's something else going on here. And judging by what I've seen so far, I bet it's going to be convoluted and weird.

What I liked about The Night Evelyn Came Out of the Grave is how it makes Alan's fixation with redheads seem reasonable. In fact, I noticed that I was starting feel the same way as the film progressed. The sight of Lisa de Leeuw in black suspender hose was like catnip to me after I watched this film. It's not often that you see films where the lead character has a fetish or preference for something that's got nothing to do with sports or food. And, for that, I appreciated the effort the makers of this film made to shine a little light on people whose interests are not typical.

Eugenie (Jess Franco, 1970)

Just when I thought I had seen it all, along comes Maria Rohm in Eugenie...the story of her journey into perversion, Jess Franco and Harry Towers' adaptation of  Marquis de Sade's "La Philosophie dans le boudoir." Wait, you've seen Maria Rohm in plenty of Jess Franco films. What's so special about her appearance in this one? Are you ready? She doesn't wear pants. Well, that was a bit of a letdown. Whatever do you mean? Name a Jess Franco film where the Austrian actress does wear pants. No, you're not listening to me. I'm not implying that Maria Rohm doesn't wear pants when she's bathing or having sex with her stepbrother, I mean she hardly ever wears pants. And even when she does wear pants, she's not wearing pants. Okay, now that doesn't make a lick of sense. Again, you're not listening to me. There's a scene in this movie where Maria Rohm, in all her chic glory, can be seen wearing black pantyhose as if they were pants. You're joking, right? She must have at least had panties on? No, I checked. Repeatedly, in fact. And she did not have any panties on. All right, how 'bout a super-short short skirt, maybe you couldn't see it? Have you lost your mind? I mean, seriously. Do I look like the kind of person who would not notice if Maria Rohm was wearing a super-short short skirt in a Jess Franco film? So, what your saying is, Maria Rohm wears pantyhose–black pantyhose, she was wearing black pantyhose–right, black pantyhose, in the middle of the day as if they were pants? That's exactly what I'm saying. Whoa! I have to ask: How are the contents of your brain still intact after watching this righteous display? Think about it. Technically, your head should have exploded the moment you saw Maria Rohm wearing black pantyhose as if they were pants. Yet, here you are, typing words and carrying on like your usual self.
 

 

You think this is usual? Far from it. The sight of Maria Rohm's flagrant disregard for fashion orthodoxy shook me to the core. Even though quite a sizable chunk of time has passed since I watched this film, I still find myself unable to wrap my brain around her decision to openly mock society's rules and regulations that dictate proper pantyhose etiquette.
 

 

Didn't you find it strange that Maria Rohm decided to wear a crocheted poncho and a sombrero with her black pantyhose? Yes, I did find that strange. Which reminds me, are you sure the poncho wasn't a dress? You know, like a shirt-dress? Nah, I don't think it was long enough. Maybe it was supposed to be that short. After all, it was era of the non-existent hemline. Yeah, but, I could see her pussy. Sure, the nylon fabric was pressing tightly against it with the force of six tornadoes, but you could tell it [her pussy] was there. You're right, I could see her pussy, too. Well, it was worth a shot.
 

 

As you were going on about Maria Rohm's bold fashion statement, I was busy trying to figure out a way to steer this review into less perverted waters. And you know what, to quote Sulu from Star Trek, "the helm is sluggish." I know how to snap myself out of this Maria Rohm-themed pantyhose funk, mention the fact the film opens with a leggy Maria Rohm lounging in a manner that could be construed as leggy. I thought you just said you wanted to steer this review into less perverted waters? Yeah, and I said the helm was sluggish. Meaning, I've lost control of the ship. Besides, the film's opening leggy salvo features legs that are unadorned. So, yes, I'm still in pervert mode. But at least I've strayed into less nylon-obsessed territory.
 

 

Anyway, Maria Rohm plays Madame Saint Ange, a leggy aristocratic who enjoys sunbathing, toying with her guitar-playing gardener/boatman, Augustin (Anney Kaplan), diaphanous clothing, sado-masochism, and corrupting minors. Reading a book by Marquis de Sade, Madame Saint Ange envisions herself at a ritualistic murder, one that involves organ eating, in an environment that can best be described as dungeon-like. (Keep an eye out for Jess Franco as one of the creepy on-lookers.) Hosted by the ultra-suave Dolmance (Christopher Lee), the party, if you can call it that, features chanting, men in mitres, men wearing nylons over their heads ("We are Devo"), and a live reading from one the Marquis de Sade's works by none other than Christopher Lee. 
 

 

Anyone remember the Art of Noise song called "Legs"? Well, every time Maria Rohm would appear onscreen in the early going of Eugenie, I would yell out, "Legs!!!"
 

 

Speaking of Eugenie and legs, we're introduced to Eugenie (Marie Liljedahl), a thigh-licious teen who just got off the phone with Madame Saint Ange. How does Eugenie know Madame Saint Ange? I mean, except for the fact that both of them have fantastic legs, they don't seem to have much in common. Either way, they know each other, much to her mother's chagrin. Wearing a short red dress, Eugenie, after rebuffing her mother's request to tell her who she was talking on the phone with, retreats to her room to act leggy while staring at Madame Saint Ange's picture.
 

 

Just in case we had any doubts as to the validity of Eugenie's legginess, Jess Franco provides us with ample evidence when he employs a not-so subtle leg pan.
 

 

Call me paranoid, but the fact that Jess Franco regular Paul Muller plays Eugenie's father does not bode well for the naive little scamp. And wouldn't you know it, my paranoia is well-founded as we see that Paul Muller is meeting Madame Saint Ange at a swanky hotel. You don't know what they're up to. Oh, I know what they're up to. And it's not just sex; Madame Saint Ange, by the way, is wearing a brown leather skirt (with a matching vest) and black fishnet pantyhose. No, there's something sinister going on, and it probably involves the spiritual well-being of Eugenie.
 

 

What kind of parent would allow their teenage daughter to spend the weekend on a remote island that belongs to Madame Saint Ange and Mirvel (Jack Taylor), her deranged stepbrother? Well, it's obvious that Paul Muller is that kind of parent, because Augustine is currently ferrying Eugenie to the island as we speak.
 

 

I would have loved to have been there when Madame Saint Ange decided to wear black pantyhose as if they were pants, a white crocheted poncho, a sombrero, white sunglasses and a pair of jewel-encrusted pumps on the day Eugenie arrives at her not-so humble abode.
 

 

Upon further inspection, and then after another inspection, one that, if you can believe it, went farther, inspection-wise, than the previous inspection, I came to the conclusion that the iconic black pantyhose/poncho/sombrero ensemble Maria Rohm wears in Eugenie wasn't as radical as I first thought. If you look closely, you'll notice that the frayed material dangling from the front and back of her poncho does provide her cunt and anus a modicum of coverage. It's just that the outfit can turn impractical in an instant whenever a stiff breeze occurs or when the wearer engages in some impromptu arm lifting.
 

 

You know, I can see how a stiff breeze might upset the structural harmony of Maria Rohm's poncho (the island is known for its breeziness). But impromptu arm lifting? I don't see that happening often. What I mean is, the character she is playing doesn't seem like the type of person who does much arm lifting throughout the day. Oh, really? Well then, how do you suppose she goes about beating Eugenie with a leather strap? I mean, have you ever tried to beat someone with a leather strap without lifting your arms? If you haven't, I'll tell you, it's damned near impossible.
 

 

Why would anyone want to beat Eugenie with a leather strap? She's so soft, so innocent. The question you really should be asking yourself is, why wouldn't anyone want to beat Eugenie with a leather strap? I can't believe I just said that out loud. In my defense, I'm simply trying to understand the mindset of Madame Saint Ange and his Marquis de Sade worshiping stepbrother (when he's not reading aloud from the works of the Marquis de Sade, he entertains himself by opening and closing the blinds in a semi-menacing manner).
 

 

Believe or not, they haven't invited Eugenie to spend the weekend with them in order to take baths together (Marie Liljedahl's Swedish bum is so freaking ebullient in its post-bath state) or smoke Turkish cigarettes while wearing expensive frocks, they have sinister plans for Eugenie. And they can be summed up by the three words: Education. Corruption. Destruction.
 

 

Whips, chains, dandies in frilly shirts, the music of Bruno Nicolai (the music cue just before Maria Rohm gets freaky with a ball and chain was awesome), Christopher Lee in a red smoking jacket; it's quite the scene, man. And the thing is, Madame Saint Ange and Mirval have somehow convinced Eugenie that all the terrible things that have happened to her have occurred not in reality, but in a dream.
 

 

How many times can Madame Saint Ange and Mirval get away with all this before Eugenie gets wise? I don't want say, but you should expect to see Marie Lijledahl running naked across sand dunes, Lina Romay in Macumba Sexual-style, before all is said and done. I know, Marie Liljedahl ran naked across sand dunes before Lina Romay did (Lina didn't do it until the early 1980s), but I saw Lina do it first. Anyway, do you like leggy Euro-babes? What am I saying? Of course you do. Then make sure to check out Eugenie, not to be confused with Eugenie de Sade (which is just as leg-friendly), it'll blow your freaking mind.

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All the Colours of the Dark (Sergio Martino, 1972)

If a movie causes you to check your body for Satanic tattoos after it's over, you know it's doing something right. Hey, you know what they say? Post-consumption bodily self-inspection is the cornerstone of fine art. I'm also curious to know how many pairs of black, almost knee-high boots were sold after All the Colours of the Dark (a.k.a. They're Coming to Get You) hit the faces of the boot-loving populace back in the early 1970s. In fact, it wouldn't surprise me if they [the boot manufactures] had a booth set up in the theatre lobby. And why not? I mean, who wouldn't want to emulate the stylish sophistication Edwige Fenech exudes throughout this giallo thriller with supernatural overtones? Sure, some of us can only dream of being a chic brunette with a blemish-free T-zone and a pair of legs that are creamy enough to be poured into the blackest, almost knee-high boots money can buy, but that's where Italian cinema comes in. Designed to plug up the gaping holes that litter our pathetic, non-boot-adorned lives, writer-director Sergio Martino (Torso) has created a fantastical world jam-packed with the kind of images that will make you swoon like a baby that was just secreted from the wart-laden slip 'n slide that is your average witch's birth canal. Funny, I didn't know witch babies liked movies that featured Satanic rituals, freaky dream sequences, blue-eyed dagger enthusiasts, and angelic women with dark hair who writhe a lot? They should, but they don't. Then again, I was speaking metaphorically. Actually, the film is pretty sparse when it comes to scenes that involve Satanists doing what Satanists do best, and that is, of course, worshiping Satan. And, come to think of it, the film seemed to be lacking in the freaky dream sequence department. But as far as blue-eyed dagger enthusiasts and angelic brunettes go, this is the film to see to get your fill of both.
 

 

Even though I thought his eyebrows could use a bit of a trim, Ivan Rassimov makes his presence felt almost immediately as...well, he's credited as "Mark Cogan," but I like to call him the blue-eyed dagger enthusiast. Why is that, you ask? Well, for starters, his eyes are blue. And secondly, he's always carrying a dagger in a manner that struck me as enthusiastic. Which got me a thinking. If you put those two distinct character traits together, you get: Blue-eyed dagger enthusiast. 
 

 

I don't think I have to explain why I called Edwige Fenech's character an angelic woman with dark hair. Don't forget, an angelic woman who also writhes a lot. Yeah, yeah, who writhes a lot. If you want me to explain why, I'll be more than happy to. Hmmm, judging by your frantic head shaking, I'll take that as a no. Your loss.
 

 

Don't be fooled by the serenity that greets us right off the bat (the opening credits are an unbroken shot of a pastoral pond), because things are are about to get sick, brainsick, that is.
 

 

Suddenly, a clock appears out of nowhere. A crazed old woman with bad teeth screams (for added creepiness, she's dressed like a little girl). A naked pregnant woman with a large black afro lies on a table ready to give birth. Then we're shown a close up of a pair icy blue eyes, followed by some quick shots of a dagger in motion. What's going on? I haven't the slightest idea. But when all is said and done, everyone, including a naked brunette lying on a bed, are covered in stab wounds. Transported to a country road at night, the sequence ends after a car crashes into a tree. The second the car is about to hit the tree, Jane Harrison (Edwige Fenech) wakes up in her London flat and wanders in a daze towards her London bathroom.
 

 

Just like Winona Ryder's character in Heathers, Jane showers with her clothes on when she's stressed out. And just like Winona Ryder, Edwige Fenech is so gorgeous, it's scary. As you watch Edwige Fenech in the early going of All the Colours of the Dark, you can't help but think: How is it physically possible for someone to be this attractive. I mean, it's unreal. Anyway, her boyfriend, what's this guys name? Oh, yeah, Richard (George Hilton), shows up just in time to comfort her by caressing her naked body and feeding her vitamins.
 

 

Neither seem to work, however, as Jane has the stab dream again. Leaving her flat (a cool art deco apartment complex), Jane is accompanied by her sister Barbara (Nieves Navarro), who, by the way, is the exact same height as Edwige Fenech, to see Dr. Burton (George Rigaud), a shrink; despite Richard's objections (he thinks they're all a bunch of quacks).
 

 

Guess who Jane sees in the waiting room? She sees Ivan Rassimov's blue-eyed dagger enthusiast, that's who. On top of being enthusiastic about daggers, it would seen that he also enjoys lurking and stalking. Wait a minute, did you say he enjoys lurking and stalking? Yes, I think I did. You won't believe this, but I have "enjoys lurking and stalking" listed on my Match.com profile. Except, I have it listed as "stalking and lurking," not "lurking and stalking."
 

 

Of course, Dr. Burton doesn't believe Jane when she tries to tell him that she saw the blue-eyed dagger enthusiast who enjoys lurking and stalking, and stalking and lurking, in the waiting room. But don't worry, Barbara corroborates Jane's story that there was in deed a blue-eyed dagger enthusiast sitting in the waiting room at one point. You should have seen me the moment when Barbara backs up Jane's story, I was all like: In your face, Dr. Burton! You should spend less time leering at Edwige Fenech's fetching knees, and more time listening to your patients problems.
 

 

Though, I have to admit. If you're going to leer at a woman's knees, you can't beat the knees attached to Edwige Fenech. I mean, c'mon. They're fantastic. 
 

 

After being told by Dr. Burton that she is "quite sane," Jane heads down to the subway. Sitting crossed-legged, the exposed leg skin languishing between the bottom of her skirt and the top of her boots no doubt causing many trouser-related irregularities to occur in the London underground that day, Jane can't help but overhear an asinine conversation being conducted by a typical English family. When her car eventually empties out, Jane notices that she and a man in a tan trench coat are the only ones left. No worries, right? Wrong. It's the blue-eyed dagger enthusiast. And every time the lights flicker, he seems to get closer. Realizing that it's only a matter of time before he is sitting on her not yet damp lap, Jane makes a run for it.
 

 

It might seem weird now, but back in the early 1970s lot's of people were joining Satanic cults on a whim. And Jane is no different. When she arrives home after being harassed by the blue-eyed dagger enthusiast, Jane meets Mary (Marina Malfatti), her blonde upstairs neighbour. The two hit it off immediately. While walking through the park, Mary suggests to Jane that she should join the Satanic cult she belongs to–you know, to clear her head. Like I said, nowadays, no-one wants to join a Satanic cult, but Jane seems open to the idea.
 

 

In fact, she's so open, she agrees to attend today's meeting. But first, she's got to get attacked by the blue-eyed dagger enthusiast; it's in her contract. When the attack, complete with crazy editing and the kick ass music of Bruno Nicolai, is over, it's ritual time, baby! You can tell just by looking at him that  Mr. McBrian (Julián Ugarte) is the leader of this particular Satanic cult. How could I tell? Well, for starters, check out his beard. And secondly, the long fingernails and the gaudy, eyeball-centric jewelry are dead giveaways.
 

 

While watching her drink fresh fox blood, and be inundated with many kisses, I think it's safe to say that Jane is now in league with Satan. Will this new allegiance help quell Jane's nightmares? Who's to say? It doesn't, however, mean that the blue-eyed dagger enthusiast is ever going to leave her alone.
 

 

Quick question: Why is Lisa Leonardi credited as "Girl with dog"? Yeah, she's walking a dog. But don't you think "Girl with killer gams" would have been more appropriate? 
 

 

Repeatedly told that, "you belong to us," Jane soon finds out that Satanic cults are easier to join, than they are to unjoin. And not to mention the eyeball triangle tattoo that all the Satanics get is a pain in the ass to remove, especially if you get one on your ass. Dripping style (short skirts and killer production design) and replete with trippy thrills (if you're going to be chased around London by a creepy dude with piercing blue eyes, you can't beat Ivan Rassimov, he rocks), All the Colours of the Dark is so chic it hurts. Great locations, awesome soundtrack, yeah, yeah, there could have been more gore, but Sergio Martino makes stalking seem cool again; not that it ever went out of fashion. A gorgeous leading lady and an effective villain make this Italian giallo worth a look-see.

   

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Special thanks to ido for recommending this chichi film.
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