Showing posts with label Ivan Rassimov. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ivan Rassimov. Show all posts

Sunday, January 21, 2018

Spasmo (Umberto Lenzi, 1974)

Christian Bauman (Nights and Loves of Don Juan's Robert Hoffmann), the brother of industrialist Fritz (Shock's Ivan Rassimov), and his ladyfriend Xenia (The Arena's Maria Pia Conte) find a seemingly dead woman lying on the beach. The woman, Barbara (The Bird with the Crystal Plumage's Suzy Kendall), turns out to be very much alive, but soon flees, leaving behind a thermos with the word "Tucania" on it. Christian tracks Barbara to the Tucania, a docked boat owned by Alex (Three Tough Guys' Mario Erpichini), a wealthy man who is madly in love with her. Christian and Barbara drive to a motel to have sex, but Barbara asks Christian to shave off his beard first. While Christian is in the bathroom, a gun-wielding man named Tatum (Shaft in Africa's Adolfo Lastretti) comes in through the window. A struggle ensues, and Christian shoots Tatum. Barbara takes Christian back to Alex, who offers him passage to safety in Monte Carlo, but Christian realizes he left his gold chain back at the motel, and goes back to get it. When he arrives, Tatum is gone, meaning he either survived or an accomplice removed his corpse. Christian and Barbara hide out at the home of a friend of the latter's who collects birds of prey, both living and dead and stuffed and mounted. Someone cuts the power. The couple meet Malcolm (8 1/2's Guido Alberti) and his daughter Clorinda (Shoot First, Die Later's Monica Monet), who claim to be renting the house from Barbara's friend. Christian recognizes Clorinda from some past incident. Why does Christian find himself in this situation, and what is the significance of the scantily-clad female mannequins that keep appearing hanging from trees?

Spasmo is the sixth film I've seen by legendary Italian filmmaker Umberto Lenzi, most infamous for Cannibal Ferox. I can say without a doubt this is my favorite Lenzi film so far, and a topnotch giallo. The performances are all excellent, particularly that of the lovely Kendall, whom mainstream audiences will probably know best as Sidney Poitier's fellow teacher and potential love interest in To Sir, with Love. Virtually everyone has a secret they're hiding from everyone else, and the plot, as so often is the case in the genre, is pretty complicated. The zoom shots so beloved in Italian genre cinema are on full display, and there are some cool POV tracking shots. The birds and the mannequins add a touch of eerieness to the film, though I was surprised and a little disappointed there were no "death by bird" scenes. Soundtrack god Ennio Morricone's work is magnificent as always. The ending is nicely creepy, with Rassimov conveying plenty while saying nothing. Lenzi and gialli fans won't want to miss this one!

Sunday, December 3, 2017

Shock (Schock; Mario Bava, 1977)

Dora Baldini (Daria Nicolodi, best known for her appearances in the films of Dario Argento, which led to an 11-year relationship that resulted in their daughter, actress and filmmaker Asia Argento, who recently has been in the news as one of the women who have accused Harvey Weinstein of sexual assault), her second husband Bruno (John Steiner, who appeared with Nicolodi in Argento's Tenebre), and her young son Marco (David Colin Jr.) move into the house where Dora used to live with her first husband Carlo, a drug addict who committed suicide and Marco's father. Marco begins acting out, frequently going down into the cobwebbed cellar, tearing up a pair of his mother's underwear, and cutting his stepfather's image out of a picture of Bruno and Dora. To make matters worse, Dora, who was treated by Dr. Aldo Spidini (Man from Deep River's Ivan Rassimov) for a nervous breakdown after Carlo's death, begins noticing strange things happening in the house. Some appear to be hallucinations, while others are harder to write off. Bruno, frequently away from home in his capacity as an airline pilot, is not much help. Finally,  Dora becomes convinced Marco is under the influence of Carlo's spirit.

It's hard to think of an Italian filmmaker who made a wider range of great films than Mario Bava. From gialli (Blood and Black Lace) to Gothic horror (Black Sunday) to anthologies (Black Sabbath, from which the iconic metal band took its name) to crime thrillers (Rabid Dogs) to comic book adaptations (Danger: Diabolik, which this Mystery Science Theater 3000 fan considers the best movie they ever riffed, and therefore a poor choice for the otherwise-entertaining last episode of the show's original run). Shock was Bava's last film, three years before his death, and he was reportedly not happy with it. It probably didn't help that the American distributors changed the title to Beyond the Door II, despite being unrelated to Ovidio G. Assonitis' and Robert Barrett's 1974 tale of demonic possession apart from David Colin Jr.'s presence in both films. Such a practice was not uncommon in overseas releases of Italian cinema, as shown by the number of Spaghetti Westerns that were retitled and marketed as Django or Sartana or Trinity pictures in order to cash in on the prestige of the more successful examples of the genre. While it is true that this film is not up to the level of the ones listed above, it's still quite enjoyable. Nicolodi turns in a typically excellent performance, chewing the scenery with aplomb in the latter half of the film as she begins to unravel. Steiner plays the concerned but skeptical husband well. Colin may, like many child actors in horror films (see Bob in Lucio Fulci's The House by the Cemetery, which like this film was co-written by Dardano Sacchetti) be the victim of bad dubbing. The cinematography by Alberto Spagnoli and an uncredited Bava is very effective, managing to somehow make a Slinky going down a flight of stairs genuinely creepy. Walter Rizzati's score includes playful childlike tunes and piano and electronic bits. The cellar contains a secret that was likely inspired by Poe's "The Black Cat." Bava had no reason to be ashamed of this more than respectable capper to a brilliant career.