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.

video uploaded by macalus1

Delirium: Photo of Gioia (Lamberto Bava, 1987)

It's been said that fashion is a cutthroat business, but no-one ever said anything about being attacked by a swarm of angry bees. Slice my neck with a kitchen knife, if you must. But, I beg you, not the bees; not only am I deathly allergic to them, my corpse will look all puffy when all is said and done (and no-one wants to penetrate a puffy corpse). Mixing two of my favourite things: fashion and murder, the exceedingly stylish Delirium: Photo of Gioia is here to satisfy my misguided desire to watch people who work in the fashion industry slaughtered without mercy. Misguided desire? Are you sure it's misguided? I mean, it sounds like it's the complete opposite of misguided, if you ask me. Misguided or not, no doubt taking his cues from Mario Bava's Blood and Black Lace and Andrea Bianchi's Strip Nude for Your Killer, writer-director Lamberto Bava grabs the giallo by its big, overly teased hair and drags it kicking and screaming into the 1980s. While I'm a fan of '60s and '70s fashion, I'm an even bigger fan of '80s fashion. Shot in 1986, the year the decade really started to come into its own, the film is inundated with the kooky styles and bold trends that made the era such an exciting time to be alive. Of course, there are always going to be those out there lurking nowhere near the fringes of society who will label the mid-1980s as a dark time, one that should be tossed in the dustbin of human history. But I can't argue or reason with people who were born with bad taste, so I won't bother trying defend some of the fashion choices that are made in this movie. Instead, I'll do what I normally do, and that is, celebrate the decade's clothing and those with the curves worthy enough to fill them. Did you say, "curves"? That's right, Timmy, I sure did. You see, to wear the clothes seen throughout this motion picture, you're going to need to be a woman. Okay, that sort of makes sense. But you could be more succinct? 'Cause I'm not following. What I mean is, you can't have the body of ten year-old boy and expect to be able to pull off the fierce garments worn around, oh, let's say, the offices of Pussycat Magazine, the sleazy men's magazine at the centre of this expertly crafted giallo. 
 

 

The chic outfits featured throughout this movie, a dizzying array of black leather skirts and sharp blazers for the gal on the go, seem like they were tailor-made for the structurally intimidating Serena Grandi. In other words, I doubt they would look good on some ninety pound boy-woman with no hips.
 

 

A slideshow of pool side glamour shots of Serena Grandi taken during her character's days as a model are what greet us at the beginning of Delirium: Photo of Gioia. You mean she's not a model anymore? No, Serena's Gioia now runs Pussycat Magazine, much to the chagrin of Flora (Capucine), her former mentor.
 

 

Overseeing a photo shoot similar to the style of the photo montage that featured pictures of herself lounging pool side in nothing but diamonds and red high heel shoes, Gioia watches as a younger model named Kim (Trine Michelsen) pose in her pool alongside two other models (including the gorgeous Marcia Sedoc). Taking the pictures is Roberto (David Brandon) and the guy barking orders is Gioia's brother Tony (Vanni Corbellini). Since she hasn't been properly introduced (a Gia Carangi-esque photo montage doesn't really count), Lamberto Bava slowly pans up Serena Grandi's legs whilst they were in the process of being crossed. Hey, man, that's unnecessarily perverted! Don't be silly. We're watching Gioia through the eyes of Mark (Karl Zinny), the wheelchair bound voyeur who lives next-door, so it's a totally justified.
 

 

You mean to tell me that this Mark fella's bedroom overlooks the backyard where Serena Grandi, and, not to mention, Daria Nicolodi (she plays "Evelyn," Gioia's live-in assistant), sit on patio furniture with their legs crossed? Yep, it's looks that way. Holy shit. I know, it's a pretty sweet set-up. Well, except for the whole confined to a wheelchair bit. But other than that, he's one lucky peeping tom. Not content with merely watching, Mark gives Gioia the occasional call on the telephone. And get this, she doesn't seem to mind. Oh, sure, she'll eventually hang up on your pervy ass when your harassment starts to cross the line (the moment he begins talking about her non-existent panties was the deal breaker during this particular call). But, for the most part, she seems to enjoy the attention; being a former model, she probably misses the over the top adulation.
 

 

After Kim has toweled off and changed into something more comfortable (a blue dress with holes down the side), Gioia, who's wearing a tropical themed top with a black skirt, invites her team to stay for dinner. It's only scene number two (number three if you count the photo montage that opened the film) yet I'm already having trouble keeping my gayness under control. The simple sight of Serena Grandi just pacing back and forth in her living room was enough to send me over the edge. I don't know, there's something about the way she walks in this film that drove me mad; and I mean that in a good way.
 

 

What's this? Oh, look. A killer is stalking Kim as she leaves Gioia's house. Yawn. Wait a second. Ahh! Her face is a giant eyeball. Kudos, Lamberto Bava. I had no idea this film was gonna contain eyeball-faced models. And, just like that, boom, you give us a model with an eyeball for a face. Sure, she's stabbed with a pitchfork, but the eyeball face and the use of bright colours are what make this scene so memorable.
 

 

Is it green or is it sea green, I'll let you decide. But whatever it is, the jacket Gioia wears to work the following day is chic beyond belief. Paired, as usual, with a black skirt (the collar and buttons are black as well), Gioia enters the Pussycat offices with a curvy brand of confidence (she has no idea Kim was pitchforked to death last night in her backyard). Unable to avoid a meeting with her former mentor, Gioia reluctantly meets with Flora, who, like I said, wants to buy Pussycat from her. When Gioia refuses, Flora tells her, "The hate of a woman can be very bad," before storming off in one of those huff thingies.
 

 

In order to keep the audience guessing, Flora's angry exist is immediately followed by a scene that sports a mysterious figure taking a photo of Kim's dead body in front of a giant photo of Gioia; a photograph similar to the one's that are featured in the film's opening. Is the bitter Flora killing Gioia's models? It's too early to say. But judging by the way she's acting, someone wants us to believe she's the prime suspect. Soon Gioia is made aware of the dead Kim propped up in front of a picture of Gioia photo when it arrives at the Pussycat offices.
 

 

Shocked by the bloody image, Gioia should take no solace whatsoever in the fact that Inspector Corsi (Lino Salemme) is on the case. Why so solace, you ask? He's useless. Hell, he doesn't even bother to compliment Gioia on her white blouse/red leather skirt ensemble. I know. And he calls himself an Italian man. What a joke. Anyway, Kim's body finally shows up in a dumpster outside a newsstand that, ironically, had just received the issue of Pussycat with her on the cover.
 

 

Now wearing a red blouse with a black skirt, Gioia is visibly uncomfortable when she is informed, by Mark of all people, that the issue with Kim on the cover is, to use his bland language, "selling like hot cakes." Someone who is obviously not uncomfortable is Evelyn, who immediately tells the printer to make more copies. 
 

 

I want the black, blue and pink sweater dress with the Jack of hearts playing card motif Flora's assistant wears in the scene after they find Kim's body.
 

 

Arriving at a movie studio, wearing a black leather jacket, a black leather skirt, black pumps, and black nylons, Gioia walks around, the sound of her heels echoing throughout the cavernous building, until she meets a red herring, I mean, a former lover, named Alex (George Eastman), an actor who is working on what looks like a fantasy flick (he's dressed like a barbarian). At any rate, I don't know how he managed to do it, but this Alex dude is having hot tub sex with Gioia in no time.
 

 

The reason Gioia was at the studio was to check out the location for the magazine's latest photo shoot. Featuring Sabrina (Sabrina Salerno), the hottest model in the business, the shoot involves Sabrina, who is dressed in leopard-print shorts (the ends are frayed to create this sort of Betty Rubble effect) and nothing much else (oh, I almost forgot, she's also wearing a leopard print headband), being molested by a couple of guys dressed as mummies.
 

 

Even though I've been wracking my brain for hours, I think it's safe to say that the red blouse paired with a black leather skirt is my favourite Serena Grandi look in Delirium: Photo of Gioia; I also liked the way she wore her hair with this particular get-up. Actually, anytime Serena wears a leather skirt is a time to celebrate, because she looks like she was born to wear leather skirts. 
 

 

We get our second "WTF murder sequence" when the killer unleashes a swarm of bees while Sabrina Salerno is getting ready for bed; complete with a giant insect head and close-up shots of stingers piercing her supple flesh. As expected, Sabrina's body is posed in front of the blown up picture of Gioia the same way Kim's body was. When Gioia finds out, she's horrified. I was horrified as well. But my horror had more to do with the fact that Gioia was wearing pants. Yeah, that's right. Pants! I actually felt sick when I saw what she wearing. Trousers are not a good look for Serana Grandi. Neither is naked (the stress of the past couple of days causes Gioia to take a naked schvitz).
 

  

As the film begins to wind down, and Gioia dons her last black leather skirt (paired with a green blouse), we're reminded that top heavy Italian babes who love leather don't make for the most ideal of final girls. That's why it always helps to have voyeuristic marksmen who aim for the crotch in your corner. Sure, there's a good chance your designer garter belt could get drenched in blood as a result of this unseemly alliance. But you're a rich former model who runs her own magazine, you can afford to buy more lingerie.   

 

 

What do have here? It would seem that Flora is at home watching, utilizing the world's biggest VCR, a Naziploitation movie Gioia starred in some time ago. Yeah, so what? Take a close look at what her assistant is wearing. Well, I'll be damned. She's wearing black hold-up stockings. I don't why she is wearing hold-up stockings, or even the name of the actress who plays the assistant, I'm just thankful for all little miracles sprinkled throughout this soul-enriching chunk of Italian trash. And you can't get any more soul-enriching than the randomness of the assistant's hold-up stockings; it's like a gift, a soft, nylon-infused gift. Which, in a perverted sort of way, is the perfect way to describe my feelings about Italian cinema. No matter how asinine or shoddy they may appear sometimes, Italian films always manage to put a smile on my dimple-free face, and Delirium: Photo of Gioia is no different in that regard. Bravo!