Bad Inclination (Pierfrancesco Campanella, 2003)

Don't you just hate it when you're trying to make out with your new girlfriend–on, where else, your orange avante garde sofa–and your pet kitty cat won't stop staring at you? I can't speak for you, or even you–yeah, you, the guy jacking it on the fire escape in nothing but a slightly charred  pair of teal oven mitts, or I should say, teal oven mitt–but there's nothing creepier than pets who like to watch when you engage in lustful activities. Nothing creepier, eh? You have obviously never been stabbed to death by an attractive Italian woman wielding a large set square. I'm going to have to respectively disagree. Watching a cat mimic my pelvic thrusts out of the corner of my eye like it was sitting centre court at a tennis match is creepy. Being stabbed by an attractive Italian woman, on the other hand, is a dream come true. Add the fact that she is wielding, what did you say she was wielding? A what? A set square?!? Good gravy, don't people stab one another with knives anymore? Anyway, add the fact that she was wielding something you might find lying around the offices of your average architectural firm only makes matters that more dreamier. Now, I don't want to cause you to lose too much of your metaphorical shit, but I'm about to add something to the mix that might provoke you to engage in some mild celebratory gesticulation followed by a pre-planned joy-based conniption fit. The attractive Italian woman wielding the set square was born with a cock. Hello? Are you still there? Oh, hey. I'm sorry, I must have passed out or something. Did you just say there's a giallo floating around out there that boasts an attractive Italian transgender woman wielding a set square as a weapon? Why haven't I watched this movie? Oh, but you have. I have? When? Take a look at the title of the movie your currently typing words about. You mean, Bad Inclination, a.k.a. Cattive Inclinazioni? Remember the look on Chazz Palminteri's face when he realizes who Keyser Söze is in The Usual Suspects? Well, that's the look I'm currently sporting at the moment.

Except, instead of feeling royally duped. I'm rolling around on the floor like a giddy school girl who just found out that Jonathan Taylor Thomas is going to be signing autographs at the mall this weekend. After the film, a stylish ode to the Italian giallo thrillers of days gone past directed by Pierfrancesco Campanella, had finished, I was already meticulously planning a lavishly verbose tribute to Eva Robin's's Nicole Cardente, a pop star; fashion-forward lesbian; a walking, talking fabulous dispensary; and camp icon all rolled into one. Let's just say, my plans went into overdrive when I finished reading Eva Robin's's bio.

In a bizarre twist of fate, I initially had this almost sane scenario bouncing around in my head that involved me wishing that the gorgeous/leggy Elisabetta Cavalotti had a cock.

Who needs to fantasize about being penetrated by Elisabetta Cavalotti's imaginary cock, when I can have Eva Robin's's real cock resting in my hands lickety-split. Am I right, fellas? Fellas? Where are you going?

Anyway, don't let Gianna Paola Scaffidi's beige blouse and equally beige curtains lull you into thinking you're about to watch a drab melodrama about a school teacher with womanly hips. Uh-uh, baby, this film has something to say. And it does so in a highly intelligent manner. Okay, maybe that's pushing it a bit. Nonetheless, the film is good. In fact, I'd go as far as to call it, Creatures from the Abyss good. Whoa, is it that good? You better believe it is.

Keep your panties affixed to your undercarriage, I'm gonna get to Eva Robin's in a minute. What I'm doing right now is laying the groundwork. At any rate, as I was saying earlier, Gianna Paola Scaffidi is wearing a beige blouse in her Italian apartment, when, out of the blue, a gloved hand knocks her unconscious with a karate chop to the head; which is ironic since she had just finished chopping veggies in her Italian kitchen. Waking up on the floor of her living room, she can't help but notice that the mysterious gloved figure is currently investigating her garter belt region with a series of invasive groping actions. Somewhat relieved that the mysterious gloved figure only wants to inspect her lingerie, Gianna seems to relax for a moment. Unfortunately, the lingerie inspection turns deadly when the mysterious gloved figure stabs her with a set square in the area located just above her frilly garter belt.

Except for being brunette, Detective Rita (Mirca Viola) has nothing really going for her in terms of pizazz. Which is a shame, really, as I thought her struggle to work within a system that is run by a bunch of incompetent boobs–I'm looking in your general direction, Chief Visconti (Antonio Petrocelli)–was on the cusp of being interesting.

The other tenants of the building where Gianna was murdered are obviously on edge. Well, all except Mirta Valenti (Florinda Bolkan), an artist who is dressed in the kind of clothes a fortune teller might wear on their day off. You mean, fortune teller casual? Yeah, I like that. The way her red embroidered vest offset the harshness of her yellow shirt was quite ingenious. She looked like a giant canary, one, of course, that had just been run over by a gay tractor.

The reason she doesn't seem bothered by what happened in her building is because she sees the murder as an opportunity to promote her artwork, which, judging from what I've seen so far, is quite morbid in nature. And not only that, she sells fake artifacts to naive collectors; which upsets Gabriella (Rosaria De Cicco), Mirta's live-in maid; or at least I think she was her maid. Whatever, take special note of Gabriella when she's dipping into the cooking cherry, as I'm sure it will pay off later on down the road.

While collecting a suitcase filled with cash for the fake artifacts she sold earlier in the day, Mirta catches one of her former students (she apparently used to teach an art class) trying to steal a bunch of stuff from her mini-van. Telling Mirta that she needs the money, Donatella (Elisabetta Rocchetti) has supposedly had it rough since they last met. While appearing sympathetic, you just know that Mirta is thinking of ways to exploit the wide-eyed wretch, who, like, Detective Rita, has got nothing going on in the pizazz department.

You know who does have pizazz? (Please say, Eva Robin's.) The gorgeous/leggy Elisabetta Cavallotti, a slinky drink of confident water who walks with the swagger of a young milf. Approaching the now infamous apartment (it's all over the trashy tabloid television talk shows) with the aforementioned swagger I just alluded to, Elisabetta, who plays Otilia, bumps into Premio (Guido Berti), a handsome new tenant. I'm no body language expert, but it's obvious that Otilia and Premio have the hots for one another.

After she's finished flirting with Premio, Otilia enters the apartment. What does she find when she gets inside? No, not another woman who was stabbed with a set square, but one of the most beautiful women on the planet. Don't you mean one of the most beautiful women in the greater Rome area? Uh-uh, I'm talking about the entire planet. Lying on her bed in a corset, Nicole Cardente (Eva Robin's) is Otilia's "friend." Oh, wait, they just shared a passionate kiss. In other words, they're more than just friends. Judging by their conversation, Otilia is helping plan Nicole's comeback. You see, Nicole, on top of being my new style hero, is a pop star who's career could use a firm kick in the underpants.

While Otilia plans Nicole's comeback, Mirta is already well on her way to exploiting the murder that occurred in her apartment. Painting a picture of a naked woman with a set square through her neck, Mirta is hoping her proximity to the murder scene will increase the value of her art. If you thought Mirta was going to limit her exploitation to the art world, think again. She's got murder on her mind, and plans to use Donatella as her weapon. Of course, all she needs to do now is head down to the set square store to pick up set square and  she should be good to go.

Quick question, won't the police being monitoring all purchases of set squares that take place at the set square store? You would think so. But you have got to remember, the police in Bad Inclination are idiots.

Meanwhile, over dinner, Otilia and Nicole start to hatch their own plan to exploit the set square murder. Only problem being, Otilia has a thing for Primio. And Nicole, judging by the size of her hair and her demented disposition, doesn't look like the type of person to let something like this slide.

It's doesn't matter, 'cause in the next scene, Primio is demanding that Otilia dig her heels into his hairy Italian calves. Ooh, baby, pierce those hairy calves, you leggy vixen. Pierce them with your heels!

Even though she doesn't know about the calve piercing incident, you can tell Nicole thinks something is fishy when she spots Primio crouching next to his motorcycle.

Whether walking her cat in pink pantyhose or relaxing with her cat in taupe pantyhose, Eva Robin's is camp personified in this movie. Playing a high maintenance pop singer, lesbian murderess, Eva Robin's injects the proceedings with the correct amount of crazy.

You would think that a movie filled with so many duplicitous characters, that it would be hard to find someone to root for. Well, I don't care what anyone says, I was rooting for Eva Robin's's Nicole. Besides, if you found out that your leggy girlfriend was having an affair with a man with hairy calves, wouldn't you want to murder her with a set square and then try to pin it on said man with hairy calves? If you said yes, you're obviously my kind of people. If you said no, well, it's clear your taste in fashion-forward chicks with dicks is not as impeccable as I thought it was.

A parody of our murder as entertainment-obsessed society (and by "our," I mean the nation of Italy), Bad Inclination is a smart giallo that will definitely appeal to fans of Faceless and Strip Nude for Your Killer. And, yes, I realize that this film is best known in some circles for being the one Franco Nero briefly appears in as a "vagrant." But if I'm watching a movie that features Eva Robin's and Franco Nero, the former will always receive the bulk of my attention, it's just the way I was raised.

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Tenebre (Dario Argento, 1982)

Try to refrain from teasing Doberman Pinschers and always make sure to check the pulse of demented serial killers after they have supposedly slit their own throat with a razor. I don't know 'bout you, but I think these two pieces of advice will probably help four, maybe five people in the audience. In other words, they're not the kind of situations most of us will encounter over the course of your average day. However, there are literally millions of dark-haired Italian women out there, most likely dressed in all white, who will watch Tenebre in the hope that they might be able to pick up a few tips here and there on how to survive an attack by a razor-wielding psychopath with a grudge against society. Unfortunately, judging by the number of dark-haired Italian women who are stabbed, slashed and sliced to death in this movie, you could view it as a sort of guide pertaining to what not to do when confronted with a faceless killer wearing black gloves. I was going to suggest that maybe the dark-haired Italian women should arm themselves–you know, with a weapon of some kind. But then it dawned on me, in the film's most famous death scene involving a dark-haired Italian woman, the dark-haired Italian woman in question is holding–what I presume–is a loaded hand gun. The poster-girl for serial killer preparedness, the dark-haired Italian woman holding the loaded hand gun–get this–ends up losing the very hand she is holding the loaded hand gun with. I'm no forensic pathologist, but you can't cut off someone's hand with just one swipe from a razor. It's true, you can't. But who said the killer is using a razor? Uh, you did. Oh, yeah, that's right, I did. Well, the killer is now using an axe. And, as we all know, axes are perfect for chopping off hands. They're also perfect for redecorating a bland-looking white wall. Come again?!? I'm not following.

You see, when the axe cuts through human flesh, torrents of blood spew through the air. And if the person whose been hacked with an axe is standing next to a wall–preferably a white wall–it will instantly turn red. Getting back to my original point, if you're a dark-haired Italian woman and you were hoping to get some helpful pointers on how to survive an elaborately staged murder scene in a Dario Argento film, you're plum out of luck.

According to this film, which features the talented one two punch of Lamberto Bava (Delirium: Photo of Gioia) and Michele Soavi (Stage Fright) as first and second assistant directors (the latter appears as an actor as well), you're only chance for survival is to stand near a pointy avant garde sculpture and hope it falls in a manner that ends up putting the assailant permanently out of commission.

Why are you trying to give dark-haired Italian women tips on how to survive a Dario Argento film? I don't like to see people killed, especially attractive, dark-haired Italian women. Really? I don't buy it. In fact, the only reason you're watching this film is to see attractive, dark-haired Italian women murdered. I'm shocked that you would think that. Okay, try to imagine Tenebre without its four signature murder sequences. Oh my God! I'm not watching that. Fine. I like to watch attractive Italian women with dark hair murdered on film. Is that so wrong? You know what, don't answer that.

Besides, just as many men are murdered in this film than women are. I know, that doesn't exactly make things any less awkward. But still, it's comforting to know that men are murdered as well. Of course, the scenes involving men are nowhere near as stylish or exhilarating as the one's that feature dark-haired Italian women buying it.

Oh, in case you're wondering, the reason I call them "dark-haired Italian women" is because that's what they are. But the real reason has more to do with the fact that I don't know their names yet. What I mean is, I'm not familiar with the actresses who play the victims, and each time I call them "dark-haired Italian women" I feel as if I'm getting closer to knowing who they really are.

The film opens with a writer Peter Neal (Anthony Franciosa), one who specializes in sleazy murder mysteries, ridding to the airport, oh, let's say, LaGuardia, on his bike. As he's about to get on a plane to Rome, we notice that Jane (Veronica Lario), a dark-haired [possibly] Italian woman dressed all in white, is watching the author with much interest.

Meanwhile, in Rome, Elsa Manni (Ania Pieroni), a dark-haired [definitely] Italian woman dressed all in...wait a minute, her skirt is clearly pink. Whew! That's a relief. I thought for a minute there she was about to get murdered. Why are you looking at me like that? I thought you said only dark-haired Italian women dressed all in white are the one's who get brutally murdered in this film. And, from where I'm sitting, Elsa is not wearing all white. Let the scene play out first, you'll be pleasantly surprised.

Caught shoplifting a copy of Peter Neal's latest book "Tenebre," Elsa manages to weasel out of being charged by promising to have sex with the store's detective at a later date. Hitching a ride home on the back of a friend's motorcycle, Elsa's troubles aren't over as she has to contend with the grabbing hands of an unwashed derelict. Kicking him in the balls with her dark pumps, Elsa is able to get behind the gate of her home in time before the unwashed derelict can start grabbing at her again. Taking off her dark pumps (the real hero in the altercation with the unwashed derelict - Dark pumps. The very best there is. When you absolutely positively must kick the balls of every last unwashed derelict in the room, accept no substitutes), Elsa proceeds to remove her...

Stop! Don't remove your pink skirt that's pleated near the bottom. Don't you get it? Once you take off your pink skirt that's pleated near the bottom, you'll be wearing nothing but clothes that are white. Bah, what's the worst that could happen? Don't say I didn't warn you.

Wearing nothing but a white top, Elsa notices her phone isn't working. And just as she's about to turn around to do something Italian, a razor is being held to her throat and black gloved hand is stuffing pages of "Tenebre" into her mouth. I don't think I have to tell you what happens next.

Greeting Peter Neal at the airport in Rome is his agent, Bullmer (John Saxon), and a group of reporters, including Tilde (Mirella D'Angelo), a staunch lesbian who doesn't like the fact that her girlfriend, Marion (Mirella Banti), fucks dudes for money on the side.

You know this film needs? It needs some Daria Nicolodi. Oh, wait, there she is. Playing Anne, Peter Neal's secretary, Daria Nicolodi, you'll notice, has red hair, yet she's dressed in all white. I'm confused. I mean, it doesn't say anything here about redheaded Italian women dressed all in white. Oh, man. I don't know what to think now.

At any rate, when Peter Neal, Anne, and Gianni (Christian Borromeo), Peter Neal's youthful assistant, arrive at the hotel, two detectives, Det. Germani (Giuliano Gemma) and Inspector Altieri (Carola Stagnaro), are waiting for them. Informing the writer about the gruesome manner in which Elsa Manni was murdered (like I said, pages from his latest bestseller were stuffed into her mouth), the police also show him a menacing note from the killer that was sent to his hotel room.

While technically not a brunette, the gorgeous Eva Robin's (Bad Inclination) appears during these strange flashback  sequences that take place on a beach; hence the reason she's credited as "Girl on Beach." Dressed in a white dressed and wearing red pumps, Eva Robin's is surrounded by a bunch of faceless boys. One of them slaps her hard in the face, causing the other boys to tackle him. As they pin him to the sand, Eva Robin's strolls over and proceeds to shove the heel of one of her red pumps into the mouth of the boy who slapped her. (Red Pumps. The very best there is. When you absolutely...) I don't know what this has to do with anything. But I'm guessing it's a painful memory pulled directly from the mind of the killer.

All right, I think I've waited long enough. The electro score by Goblin is one of the best I've ever heard. Seriously, I'd put it up there with Wang Chung's To Live and Die in L.A. score and Chuck Cirino's score for Chopping Mall in terms of synthy greatness. And while we heard the theme from Tenebre during the opening credits. It doesn't really get a chance to display its utter awesomeness until Mirella D'Angelo and Mirella Banti are confronted by the killer in their swanky home, where the former is attacked while putting on a t-shirt–a white t-shirt–and the latter is attacked while wearing a towel–a white towel.

However, before the attack occurs, we given an extended tour of the roof of their house. And it's during this tour that I really started to appreciate the throbbiness of Goblin's score. It can't say enough good things about the music in this film, as it's the type of music I wish every movie had as its soundtrack. And when I say "every movie," I mean, every movie. Even Driving Miss Daisy and Edward Penishands.

You would think that the confrontation between the killer and the two dark-haired Italian women in their home would be the pinnacle of this film's greatness. Think again, pal. Sure, the camera angles, the music, the intensity of the violence featured in the previous scene are nearly impossible to top in terms of being iconic, but a plucky actress named Lara Wendal and a resolute Doberman Pinscher are going to try, nonetheless.

Playing Maria Alboretto, the daughter of the landlord of the building Peter Neal is currently living in, Lara Wendel's decision to taunt the Doberman Pinscher that barks at her during her walk home from a disastrous date with her boyfriend (Michele Soavi) will come back to haunt her.

She doesn't know it yet, but the Doberman Pinscher she is currently poking at with is a stick is the dog shit when it comes to jumping fences. After multiple attempts, it finally makes over the first fence, and just like that, the best dog chase sequence in slasher film history is underway. Now, some audience members might be shocked to learn that dog in question is 100% real. That's right, there's no CGI tomfoolery to be found during this epic chase.

Even though I might have missed a few along the way, I think at least four fences are scaled during this particular chase. Well, actually, if your numbers are correct, that's not entirely true, as Maria doesn't quite make it over the fourth fence. Oh, yeah. She doesn't, does she? Yeah, I forgot about that. Either way, the music cue that occurs when a black gloved hand lifts a razor in anger is fantastic. And the piece of music that accompanies the final leg of Lara Wendel's ordeal is called "Flashing" and it's just as amazing as the film's theme song.

Granted, I've seen and appreciated many forms of cinematic arterial spray over the years. But the type employed during the film's bloody finale was simply ridiculous. And I mean that in a good way. To call it "spray" doesn't seem to do it justice, as it's more like an arterial gusher. At first, I felt sort of bad for all people murdered in this film. Then it dawned on me. No, I don't feel sorry for them, I actually envy them. That's right, envy. Think about it. Who wouldn't want to be killed in such an elegant manner? To be killed in the gruesome mode the people are killed in this movie would be a honour and a privilege. I know, murder is wrong and junk, but if you're going to go, why not go in style?

While I'm currently in the process of re-watching some of Dario Argento's essential films, I can't imagine any of them coming close to topping the icy perfection of Tenebre. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to crank the film's soundtrack while slowly pacing back and forth in a menacing fashion. I do have a pair of black leather gloves, but I don't own an open razor. So, instead, I'm using an old feather duster. Watch out dark-haired Italian women the world over, I'm going to straight up dust your ass.

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