WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO SOLANGE? aka COSA AVETE FATTO A SOLANGE?

Massimo Dallamano, 1972

Starring: Karin Baal, Fabio Testi, Joachim Fuchsberger, Cristina Galbó, Camille Keaton

Henry, a teacher at a local girls’ high school, is out for a romantic afternoon with one of his students, Elizabeth, when she witnesses a girl being killed. After this initial horror, more of Elizabeth’s classmates follow and it seems that the murderer has a vendetta against the whole class. Henry is determined to find out who is responsible before he is named a suspect. There are plenty of viable candidates on campus – including his icy, estranged wife – but soon the killer gives Henry a more personal reason to get involved.

Massimo Dallamano’s What Have You Done to Solange? straddles the line between giallo film and German krimi – it was actually based on Edgar Wallace’s novel, The Clue of the New Pin – but unlike the latter, it sheds the comic book-style mystery plots for a slow burning tale of underage sex, dark secrets, and revenge. Like the krimi films, which were packed with German and international cast members, but set in London, this was shot on location and cinematographer Joe D’Amato (yes, the horror/exploitation director) makes the best of some British atmosphere. But this is notably not a British film and it retains a thoroughly European sensibility, down to its casual attitude about infidelity, an older man’s affair with a much younger girl, and a refusal to be reserved or prudish about sex.

Much of this sexual energy is focused on Italian beefcake Fabio Testi, who starred in everything from art house classics (The Garden of the Finzi-Continis, The Most Important Thing is to Love) and Italian crime films (Gang War in Naples), to spaghetti westerns (Four of the Apocalypse) and even a few giallo films (Rings of Fear). This was his first in the genre and he gives a solid, likable performance as a character that should come across as an absolute bastard. Though Henry (aka Enrico) is cheating on his wife by having an affair with a high school student, he comes across as sensitive and romantic – which is, of course, why he’s so attractive to 16 and 17 year old girls. This is sort of a spoiler, but in a twist, it is revealed that his young love, Elizabeth (the wholesome-looking Cristina Galbó of Let Sleeping Corpses Lie and The House That Screamed) died a virgin. This makes his character a bit less sleazy and makes it easier for his wife (Bond-girl and krimi regular Karin Baal) to reconcile with him and join his crime-solving quest.

This Italian-West German coproduction has the cast rounded out with other krimi stars, including Joachim Fuchsberger (Dead Eyes of London), and – surprisingly – by a pre-I Spit on Your Grave Camille Keaton in her very first film role. Though she’s usually associated with the American rape revenge film, she appeared in a few low budget Eurohorror efforts, such as Riccardo Freda’s Tragic Ceremony in the same year. Impatient viewers will probably be annoyed that her character, the titular Solange, doesn’t turn up until the film’s final act, but her presence is undeniably impacting.

SPOILERS: Solange’s character is obviously the crux of the mystery and if Henry can find her, he will figure out who is killing the girls and why. Though it takes quite some time to get there, What Have You Done to Solange? takes a nasty turn not normally seen in giallo films, when it is revealed that most of the girls at the school were engaged in a teenage sex ring. One of their number, Solange, became pregnant and the rest of the girls were afraid that her condition would give them all away. They forced her to go through a kitchen-sink abortion that was violent and painful, causing Solange to suffer mental trauma that left her insensate. Her father, who has been caring for her, is the one out to get revenge.

Despite the film’s often slow, methodical approach to detection and mystery, the murder scenes are surprisingly graphic. The killer uses a long knife to stab his victims between the legs, horrifyingly recreating the film’s central trauma. And underrated director Massimo Dallamano (known for A Black Veil for Lisa, Venus in Furs, Dorian Gray, and other blends of horror and exploitation) is not afraid to bring this up at some unexpected moments, including graphic pictures of the dead, violated girls. Few giallo films were willing to be this unpleasant, though certainly Fulci’s Don’t Torture a Duckling or New York Ripper qualify, as does Short Night of the Glass Dolls, though Death Occurred Last Night – where the central victim is a mentally handicapped girl – comes closes in tone and style to What Have You Done to Solange?

One place where Dallamano loses his footing is in the relationship between Henry and his wife Herta, the school’s German teacher. Like Who Saw Her Die?, the film begins with a separated couple where one (or both) of the members are having an affair and they are reconciled by a murder that both are trying to solve. In that film, the victim in question is their daughter, so it makes sense that they are bonding over grief and determination to find her murderer. In this case, there is something unsettling and misogynistic about the fact that the wife is blamed for the separation (basically she’s an uptight bitch) and welcomes Henry back with open arms when she realizes that he didn’t have sex with a high school student – he was just making out with one, in an apartment he rented specifically for that purpose.

Still, despite its flaws, the film has a solid sense of character development, which is surely lacking across the genre. Overall I would recommend What Have You Done to Solange? It’s available on DVD and strikes an odd chord between giallo film and thriller, with far more emphasis on character and a cohesive plot than most giallo films. I am a sucker for anything with Fabio Testi, so maybe take my opinion with a grain of salt. On a final note, there is yet another wonderful score from the great Ennio Morricone. Also be on the lookout for Dallamano’s loose follow up, the confusingly titled What Have They Done to Your Daughters? (1974), which I’m reviewing soon.

NAKED GIRL KILLED IN THE PARK aka RAGAZZA TUTTA NUDA ASSASSINATA NEL PARCO

Alfonso Brescia, 1972

Starring: Robert Hoffmann, Pilar Velázquez, Irina Demick, Adolfo Celi

A businessman is found dead in a House of Horrors ride in an amusement park in Madrid. Unsure if it is an accident or murder, insurance investigator Chris Buyer is put on the case – and his first move is to seduce the man’s adult daughter, Catherine. She is soon targeted by a man in the black leather coat and receives threatening phone calls. Deciding to lay low for a while, she takes Chris to her family’s rural mansion, where he meets her disturbed mother and licentious sister, Barbara. He has an affair with Barbara, who is found dead in the park in the following morning

Unlike some really out there giallo titles, like Your Vice is a Locked Room and Only I Have the Key or others that simply don’t make any sense, such as Cat o’ Nine Tails and The Killer is on the Phone, Naked Girl Killed in the Park is pretty direct about what the film has to offer. Director Alfonso Brescia churned out Italian B-movies across a wide variety of genres, but this was his first giallo. It utterly lacks the suspense, scares, gore, or atmosphere found in the genre’s classes, but it undeniably has a bit of charm. The opening sequence, where Catherine’s father dies in the amusement park, is lifted right out of John Boulting’s British noir, Brighton Rock, but the scene is still effective and has some fittingly creepy moments.

Naked Girl Killed in the Park’s real claim to fame is how thoroughly sleazy it is. The beautiful and often nude female cast essentially embodies a group of insane, horny, and vindictive women all trying to stab each other in the back. Giallo films often have unlikable characters, but Catherine and her family really milk this for all it’s worth, particularly her mother, who spends the first half of the film deliriously imagining that her husband is still alive. Like Paul Naschy film The Blue Eyes of the Broken Doll (made two years later in 1974), this Italian-Spanish coproduction forces the women to compete for the sexual attentions of an unlikable protagonist. Catherine’s sister is happy to seduce Chris at the earliest opportunity, luring him outside for a midnight tryst with the premise that she knows who killed her father. I’m not going to give away her mother’s behavior, but it’s certainly a sight to be seen and rivals the antics of Martha’s bereaved mother in Fassbinder’s Martha.

As Chris, Robert Hoffman is stuck playing a thoroughly unlikable protagonist – I’m not even sure I can call him that – and he fails to rise above some truly bland writing. He’s also a total asshole, delighted to find himself in the midst of so many crazy women. Though this begins as a more straightforward giallo with a central murder, a protagonist menaced by the killer, and plenty of suspects and red herrings, it becomes a strange family drama in the vein of The Blue Eyes of the Broken Doll. This may not appeal those expecting a giallo film, but there is a bitter, cynical twist at the ending that I thought was a nice final touch.

I can’t really recommend Naked Girl Killed in the Park. There are some enjoyable moments, namely the licentiousness that goes on at the family estate and the opening death sequence in the carnival, which is the film’s finest. It also might be worth watching for a performance from Thunderball’s Adolfo Celi as a constantly bumbling inspector who pretty much never gets anything right and provides plenty of unintentional laughs. Afonsio Brescia doesn’t do anything breathtaking in the director’s chair and there are some truly awkward, clumsy scenes are awkward and clumsy. It’s not one of my favorite giallo films, but if you’d like to see it, it’s available on DVD in a real bargain basement edition from Desert Island Films.

A WHITE DRESS FOR MARIALÉ aka UN BIANCO VESTITO PER MARIALÉ

Romano Scavolini, 1972

Starring: Ida Galli, Ivan Rassimov, Luigi Pistilli

As a young girl, Marialè witnesses her father kill her mother and mother’s lover and then turn the gun on himself. Years later, the adult Marialè is married to the abusive Paolo, who drugs her and keeps her prisoner in her family castle. Unbeknownst to him, she has invited a group of friends to the castle for a weekend-long party, including the handsome Massimo. Even though the butler tries to turn them away, Paolo eventually relents. They throw a costume party, where Marialè wears the white, bloodstained dress her mother died in, setting in motion a hallucinogenic nightmare and a weekend of bloodshed.

Also known as Spirits of Death, director Romano Scavolini’s relatively unknown film is surprisingly creepy and it’s gone too long without an audience. Sort of a combination between Fellini, Ken Russell, and Sergio Martino’s Your Vice is a Locked Room and Only I Have the Key (1972), the film stumbles occasionally but remains compelling from start to finish. The opening scene where Marialè’s mother meets her death at the hands of her husband is a hard act to follow, but A White Dress for Marialè keeps things chugging along thanks to some solid direction, a fittingly zany script, interesting cinematography, and assured performances.

One of my favorite giallo actors, Ivan Rassimov, plays against type as the film’s hero, a sensitive artist whose romance with Marialè seems inevitable. He’s also basically the only male character who isn’t a complete bastard. This Serbo-Italian dreamboat was in everything from Bava’s Planet of the Vampires to spaghetti westerns and several of Sergio Martino’s giallo films, usually as a twisted, psychotic murderer or, at best, menacing love interest. This is the only film I’ve seen him in where he’s more lamb than lion. He makes a nice counterpoint to the subdued, almost ghost-like Ida Galli, always a lovely sight, but not very often a strong physical presence. She is perhaps the most accomplished of a cast, with a resume ranging from classics like La Dolce Vita and The Leopard to Bava’s Hercules in the Haunted World and The Whip and the Body to spaghetti westerns, war films, and a mess of giallo efforts.

Luigi Pistilli, who is always excellent, is compelling despite the fact that he plays an abusive husband. Cast in spaghetti western classics like The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly and The Great Silence, Pistilli was one of the giallo genre’s most talented actors. He appeared in everything from The Cast of the Scorpion’s Tale and The Iguana with the Tongue of Fire, Bay of Blood, and Italian crime films like Caliber 9, his role here is surprisingly close to the scoundrel Oliviero of Your Vice is a Locked Room and Only I Have the Key. He abuses his wife and, like Marialé’s character, is tormented by the memory of his dead mother. Martino’s film also includes a bacchanalia scene that ends with insanity and murder. I’d love to discover an interview that explains (or denies) the connection between these two films, seemingly made back-to-back.

Though these three lead performances from Galli, Rassimov, and Pistilli provide the film with a secure base, what really makes it stand out is the wacky second half. The dinner party erupts into a costumed affair where the characters take various outfits off of mannequins in the castle’s creepy underground chambers – and yes, this is yet another giallo that makes effective use of plastic mannequins, though it doesn’t dwell on them. Their fete temporarily has a ‘60s feel – possibly a brief nod to the throwback style of the giallo films of Umberto Lenzi – with rock music, face painting, and other activities that wouldn’t feel out of place at a hippy love fest. But soon the quirky guests are knocked off by a killer. It is around this midway point that the film slows down and drags a bit. It adapts a more conventional “old dark house” style murder mystery plot, though this is fortunately abandoned by the conclusion.

The film suggests in a vague sort of way that the dinner guests have been possessed by the spirits of the dead (the American title), but really Scavolini just does away with logic all together, letting the narrative roam where it pleases. There are some fittingly nightmarish scenes that take place during a booming storm and in certain moments, it reminded me of Juan Lopez Moctezuma’s even more Dionysian The Mansion of Madness, made a year earlier. These experimental scenes will likely divide the audiences, though they boast some of the film’s most striking imagery.

A White Dress for Marialè comes recommended, particularly for anyone who likes a dash (or two) of the surreal with their thrillers or giallo films. Though it’s still not particularly available for US audiences, you can pick it up on Blu-ray from German company Camera Obscura, thankfully in stock at Diabolik DVD. It includes plenty of juicy special features and hopefully soon this interesting, strange little film will get a similar treatment on region 1 Blu-ray.

WHO SAW HER DIE?

Aldo Lado, 1972

Starring: George Lazenby, Anita Strindberg, Nicoletta Elmi

Somewhere in France a young, red-haired girl is murdered in the woods by an old woman dressed all in black. Later, in Venice, a different little red-hared girl goes to visit her father, who is a sculptor. Soon, she is also murdered by the same mysterious lady. Her estranged parents come together to solve her murder at any cost as the body count begins to rise.

Despite director Aldo Lado's previous success with the chilling, excellent Short Night of the Glass Dolls (1971), his follow up doesn't live up to its predecessor. It suffers from two major flaws -- firstly, that it falls so short of Short Night of the Glass Dolls' atmosphere of death mingled with sex, mystery, oppression, and paranoia. Secondly, it also pairs in comparison with another, similar film that actually came out a year later, the magnificent Don't Look Now (1973). Obviously this criticism only applies in hindsight, since Lado would have no way of knowing what he was working against, but for anyone who has seen the latter film, this is laughable in comparison. Not to throw another bone of contention against Lado, but it also fails in comparison with his follow up, the brutal Night Train Murders (1975).

Unfortunately I have to admit that Who Saw Her Die? is probably only entertaining only for die-hard giallo fans, or for die-hard James Bond fans who want to see George Lazenby in a more traditional role -- he stars as the forlorn father searching for his daughter's killer and I can't say this film does much to cement his reputation as a talented actor. I could be wrong, but I believe this is his only role in a giallo film. (Also keep your eyes peeled for Adolfo Celi, of Thunderball.) There are also some solid performances from a few genre regulars, including the sexy Anita Strindberg (Lizard in a Woman's Skin) as the little girl's grief-stricken mother and Nicoletta Elmi, the creepy little girl from Deep Red who grew up to be a creepy twenty-something in Demons.

The film's main problem is that, like Short Night of the Glass Dolls, the solution to its central mystery is a conspiracy, rather than a single murderer. While this worked in the former film, thanks to a solid plot and plenty of nightmarish atmosphere, Who Saw Her Die? just can't compare. It squanders the lovely Venice set and attempts to make the proceedings as drab and gray as the Soviet background of Short Night of the Glass Dolls, and relies far too heavily on run-of-the-mill giallo trademarks. I never get tired of seeing those black gloves, but they are not used particularly inventively here.

That's not to say it totally misses the mark. The first half of the film is compelling, but almost as soon as little Roberta dies, Lado unleashes a barrage of red herrings, characters who do some really stupid things, and a host of forgettable side characters who factor into the conclusion in some way that I already don't remember. This is simply a clunky script that can't be rescued by any of the actors, the effects, or the fun score by Ennio Morricone. There are some solid death scenes and child  murder is a risky subject even for a giallo film. Though a few of these popped up over the years, most notably Don't Torture a Duckling, the standard giallo victims are alluring women, or at least adults who have attracted the murderer's attention in some way.

Perhaps the film's most compelling scenes are those leading up to Roberto's death. Lado reveals fairly early on that she is most certainly going to die and agonizingly drags out a suspenseful series of near missing until her inevitable demise -- which of course occurs while she is out of playing and her father is having a tryst with another woman. The weightiness of her death is somewhat ruined by Lazenby's bland acting -- though neither of the parents exhibit a whole lot of grief -- and some ridiculous scenes, like one where he has to play a game of ping pong to get a witness to talk.

Though it is peppered with moments of humor and suspense, Who Saw Her Die? brings little to the genre. It's so frustrating because it shows off occasional glimmers of its potential, and in light of Short Night of the Glass Dolls and Night Train Murders, this could have been an exceptional film. If you still want to see it, there's a serviceable Anchor Bay DVD available.

DEATH WALKS AT MIDNIGHT aka LA MORTE ACCAREZZA A MEZZANOTTE

Luciano Ercoli, 1972

Starring: Nieves Navarro, Simon Andreu, Carlo Gentili, Claudine Lange

Valentina, a model, agrees to be a research subject for her boyfriend Gio, a journalist interested in studying the effects of hallucinogens. She takes the drug (called HDS, perhaps an obvious stand-in for LSD, unless I missed something in translation) and he records and photographs her experience – but is unaware that she has witnessed a man wearing a spiked glove beat a woman to death. Gio doesn’t believe her and publishes the article, not keeping her identity anonymous like her promised, and nearly ruins her career in the process. Meanwhile, Valentina believes that the killer has begun to stalk her, but no one, not even the police, will believe her claims.

A loose follow up to Death Walks on High Heels, Death Walks at Midnight is the third of Luciano Ercoli’s films to involve screenwriter Ernesto Gastaldi and actors Nieves Navarro (Ercoli’s wife), Simon Andreu, Claudine Lange, and Carlo Gentili. I have to admit that out of the three (including Forbidden Photos of a Lady Above Suspicion), I enjoyed this last film the most. It avoids the hysterical, panicking heroine of Forbidden Photos and has a more up-to-date sense of style than the ‘60s-included Death Walks on High Heels, which is as much a heist film as it is a giallo. This last entry has plenty of goofy moments, but the script is just wacky enough to be effective.

Unlike the earlier two, this has a lot more of what I would describe as key giallo elements. The protagonist witnesses a murder and is threatened by the killer, has a love interest who assistants (albeit reluctantly) in solving the mystery, and there are artists and models involved. And like Death Walks on High Heels, after a certain point I honestly couldn’t tell you what the hell is going on with the plot, thanks to numerous red herrings, plot twists, and other nonsequitors. The film’s central murder weapon, a grim-looking glove with metal claws, references Bava’s Blood and Black Lace, as well as German krimi films like Creature with the Blue Hand. The early tripping sequence – one of the film’s best scenes – adds a certain amount of sleaze and through Navarro is a model (rather than a stripper, like in Death Walks on High Heels), Ercoli finds plenty of opportunities to showcase her physical assets.

Refreshingly, her Valentina is a good example of a tormented female protagonist who doesn’t become hysterical 10 minutes into the film and holds her own for quite some time – she even throws a rock through the window of her no-good boyfriend as revenge for him possibly ruining her career. Her solid sense of confidence and self-worth leads her to believe that she really has witnessed a murder and that the killer is after her – even though her boyfriend and the police are skeptical. And though she occasionally succumbs to frustration, such as one scene where she is abandoned in on a hostile country estate by a woman she believed was an ally, she doesn’t sink into madness as quickly as some of the other films in this loose genre (such as Ercoli’s own Forbidden Photos). Nearly everyone in the film is selfish and opportunistic, especially Valentina, but she’s somehow likable despite this and even contributes to the film’s welcome sense of humor that keeps the overall tone fairly light.

Death Walks at Midnight also has the most robust conclusion out of all three films, including a knockdown, drag out fight in Valentina’s apartment that extends to the roof of her building. Simon Andreu, who was in his fair share of Italian and Spanish giallo/horror films, would not have been out of place in an Italian crime film. This is perhaps his best role in an Ercoli film and while the film’s first act belongs to Navarro, he manages to steal the concluding scenes. Unfortunately the middle lags a bit, though every conceivable giallo subplot is thrown into the mix, including drug smuggling, a sojourn to a mental hospital, and an unstable boyfriend who is also a talented sculptor. Keep an eye out for some hilariously costumed drug dealers, looking as stereotypical as possible. And speaking of costumes, though Navarro isn’t given anything as zany as what she wears in the first film, she does get to spend a night on the town while wearing what seems to be a metal wig.

Though this certainly isn’t a giallo masterpiece, Death Walks at Midnight is a hell of a lot of fun and manages to break out of some genre stereotypes on one hand, while playing them up on the other. Unfortunately, as of now, it’s hard to get ahold of. A couple of years ago No Shame released a lovely, three-disc box set of both of Ercoli’s “Death Walks” films and a disc of prolific composer Stelvio Cipriani’s music for both films. Right now it’s highly out of print and is quite expensive, but hopefully someone will release a nice Blu-ray box set with these two and Forbidden Photos of a Lady Above Suspicion.

DEATH WALKS ON HIGH HEELS aka LA MORTE CAMMIMA CON I TACCHI ALTI

Luciano Ercoli, 1971

Starring: Frank Wolff, Nieves Navarro, Simón Andreu

After a jewel thief is murdered on a train, police believe that his beautiful daughter Nicole, a nightclub dancer, may know the location of some valuable missing gems. She denies this, but a masked man with blue eyes and a strangely altered voice begins harassing her, first over the phone, and then by breaking into her apartment. She meets up with a wealthy man who enjoys her dancing, Dr. Matthews, who takes her out to his country home in England for a few weeks of safety and solitude. Unfortunately though, it doesn’t take long for the man with the blue eyes, and the case of the missing diamonds, to follow her again.

Death Walks on High Heels is the first film in a loose double feature from director Luciano Ercoli along with Death Walks at Midnight (1972). Both of these Italian-Spanish co-productions star Ercoli’s wife, actress Nieves Navarro (listed as Susan Scott), and Simón Andreu, and were penned by famed giallo screenwriter Ernesto Gastaldi, all of whom had earlier teamed up on Forbidden Photos of a Lady Above Suspicion (1971). Like that film, Death Walks on High Heels rotates around a central plot twist and, unlike a conventional giallo, has an air of the heist film about it, as the whole thing is really about a cache of missing diamonds.

This certainly has a more European, jet setting feel so common in giallo films, with shots in Paris and London, and includes some giallo must-haves like a moment of surprising gore and plenty of nudity. Nieves Navarro is scantily clad for most of the film, which opens with her performing two — count ‘em, two — striptease scenes. Navarro was trying to give giallo superstars like Edwige Fenech some competition, but her character type is a welcome addition to the genre. In all three of Ercoli’s films, her characters are sexy, confident, and not easily frightened by the antics of the killer. This is certainly a welcome change from the hysterical, paranoid damsel in distress. Even though Nicole is attacked and harassed — and believes her boyfriend could be the masked man — she still holds her own.

The strangest thing about Death Walks on High Heels is that unlike the other giallo films coming out in the 1971 and 1972 boom, the sense of style is very similar to the swingin’ 60s look for earlier efforts like Deadly Sweet, Death Laid an Egg, Naked You Die, or The Frightened Woman. It’s odd to think that a giallo film would feel dated among its peers, but I think this is part of the film’s charm. It certainly works with Nieves Navarro’s appeals and the camera loves her — she manages to keep its attention despite a series of occasionally hilarious outfits and some lengthy scenes where she tries on different sexy outfits. This also brings a refreshing amount of sleaze to the film that is one of my favorite things about the genre, but is occasionally missing from the more serious entries.

The sleazy elements unfortunately fade away in the third act, when Ercoli ramps up the violence and the plot thickens — in fact it gets so thick that it’s a little dizzying. Carlo Gentili, as the Inspector (a role he would reprise in Death Walks on High Heels), is allowed to really strut his stuff in the second half of the film and brings some much needed comic relief. His style of detective is best described as laid back, though he somehow has remarkable insight and often stumbles across the right answers. And keep your eyes peeled for lots of other genre actors, such as co-star Simón Andreu (The Blood Spattered Bride) and Luciano Rossi (Fulci’s City of the Living Dead).

Death Walks on High Heels is not the greatest giallo, but it’s well worth watching for fans of the genre. Unfortunately, as of now, it’s hard to get ahold of. A couple of years ago No Shame released a lovely, three-disc box set with this film, Death Walks at Midnight, and a disc of composer Stelvio Cipriani’s music for the two films (he also worked on films like The Frightened Woman, Iguana with the Tongue of Fire, Bay of Blood, Baron Blood, and so much more). Right now it’s highly out of print and is quite expensive, but hopefully someone will release a nice Blu-ray box set with these two and Forbidden Photos of a Lady Above Suspicion.

THE BLOODSTAINED BUTTERFLY aka UNA FARFALLA CON LE ALI INSANGUINATE

Duccio Tessari, 1971

Starring: Helmut Berger, Giancarlo Sbragia, Ida Galli

After a young French student is found dead in a park, stabbed to death, police arrest TV personality Allesandro Marchi. He just happened to be seen near the park and has no other alibi, among other evidence against him. He is tried for the crime, but the case unravels when it is revealed that Marchi was visiting with his mistress that day – much to the chagrin of his beautiful wife, who begins having an affair with his attorney. When two other girls are killed with the same M.O. while Marchi is in prison, it seems that the police definitely have the wrong suspect… or do they?

Director Duccio Tessari – known for spaghetti westerns like A Pistol for Ringo (1965) – helmed this surprising giallo, one that is certainly lesser known but is worthy of attention. Deceptively, the first half of the film is presented as a fairly dull courtroom drama and/or police procedural. However, it soon twists itself into a compelling giallo with some surprisingly well-developed characters and moments of genuine sleaze. On the surface level, this is yet another film about beautiful young women being murdered, but The Bloodstained Butterfly shows an unexpected level of sympathy for its victims.

SPOILERS: Though Tessari makes it seem like this is a film about yet another psychopathic killer, murdering while he hides behind a charming mask of gentility, this is merely a well-executed red herring. Though there is no clear protagonist, the film essentially revolves around Helmut Berger’s Giorgio, a spoiled, tormented playboy. The film brilliantly plays with Berger’s reputation from films like Dorian Gray (1970) and The Damned (1970), where he plays characters that are ultimately doomed by their destructive, perverse sexual obsessions. While this seems to be the case here – for instance, he has somewhat violent sex with Sarah (Wendy D’Olive), Marchi’s teenage daughter. Though it is consensual, Sarah admits that she is frightened and Giorgio becomes somewhat unhinged by the encounter. Brilliantly, the film leads us to believe that the increasingly manic, paranoid Giorgio – racing through the labyrinthine streets to flee from onlookers and police – is the killer, but in its final moments reveals that he knows the identity of the real killer and is trying to get revenge for the murder of his girlfriend, the young French girl found rolling down a hill on a rainy day in the park.

The opening sequence – where the mud, grass, and blood-flecked girl is found by two children and their babysitter – is effective and chilling, but also suggests that this is going to be a fairly conventional giallo. The killer is practically revealed to us, as we see everything but his face, and Tessari ensures that a few witnesses spot him, though they are of course later revealed to be unreliable. Tessari somehow manages to be unexpected and unconventional as often as possible, while still sticking to the rough outlines of a giallo film. The Bloodstained Butterfly lacks overt violence or gore, though there are three deaths, and the film seems to work backwards. While many giallo films start off strong and peter out thanks to an ill-structured script, this strong screenplay from Tessari and the talented, if underrated Gianfredo Clerici (of New York Ripper, Cannibal Holocaust, and Don’t Torture a Duckling) takes time to get going, but is well worth the wait.

While not as grim as something like Short Night of the Glass Dolls, this film takes itself more seriously than the average giallo and there are none of the silly psychedelic scenes from earlier films in the genre. Instead, Tessari moves between crime scene, court house, and domestic spaces, showing a fair amount of familial strife for Giorgio and Sarah. After so many entries with journalists, reporters, and both amateur and professional detectives, it’s something of a relief to follow normal people who may be involved in, but are certainly affected by the central murder. The film also lacks the nudity and overt sexuality of many earlier giallo films, though this theme plays an important role as a perverse undercurrent affecting nearly all the relationships between the main players.

The Bloodstained Butterfly is an unexpected delight, but it will only reward patient viewers. It’s worth watching just for the tense, moody concluding sequence where the whopper of a twist is revealed, and of course for Helmut Berger’s lovely, paranoid performance. I am, of course, biased, as I’m a big fan of most of his filmography – one day I’m even going to track down What Did Stalin Do to Women? (1969). The Bloodstained Butterfly, which all giallo fans should check out, is available on DVD, though only as an import, I believe.