Gialli

The funny things you find in libraries

I made an interesting discovery the other day at work: Almost Blue, a giallo novel by Carlo Lucarelli (who served as co-writer on Dario Argento's Non Ho Sonno), which was made into a rather effective film by Alex Infascelli, has an English translation, and my workplace had a copy in stock. It's a pretty slim tome - less than 175 pages - so I expect it won't take long for even a notoriously slow reader like myself to get through. Judging by the review quotes on the back, the translation, by Oonagh Stransky, is itself rather highly regarded. I'll let you know when I get the chance to read it.

By the way, the Giallo Project will hopefully be continuing tomorrow with Death Laid an Egg. Apologies for neglecting it for so long.

The Giallo Project #4: Blowup

Director: Michelangelo Antonioni; Starring: David Hemmings, Vanessa Redgrave, Sarah Miles; Music: Herbie Hancock; US theatrical release date: December 18th, 1966

"Slowly, slowly... against the beat." - The unnamed photographer of Blowup

"What's the meaning of this?" you ask. "I thought this was the Giallo Project?" It's a valid enough question, and I thought long and hard about whether or not to include Blowup in this rogue's gallery, but eventually I came to the conclusion that I couldn't afford to ignore it. You see, while I don't believe it possible to describe this as a giallo in the truest sense (although both Blood and Black Lace and The Giallo Scrapbook 2 do so), I suspect that it had a profound impact on virtually every giallo beyond a certain point in history. It undoubtedly had a huge influence on Dario Argento, who adapted several of its themes into The Bird with the Crystal Plumage and indeed all of his 1970s gialli, and, in turn, the various directors who set out to imitate Argento's work ended up adopting these same themes and stylistic traits second-hand - imitations of an imitation, as it were. Besides, I thought it only right that I do something to acknowledge Antonioni's recent death.

Beyond the plot, which, if you break it down, is basically the same as virtually every Argento giallo - an artist living as an outsider in a contemporary urban space, flitting around unable to settle, witnesses (or believes he has witnessed) a crime taking place, the solution to which lies in a single image or memory that he can't quite understand - it's the very atmosphere that so closely mirrors everything from The Bird with the Crystal Plumage to The Strange Vice of Mrs. Wardh: a sort of decadence, a society of bourgeois excess, where people are obsessed with useless commodities and avant-garde art, and seem to have to real purpose in life. I wasn't around to experience the 60s first-hand (far from it!), but I can easily see this as a defining statement of the atmosphere and mood of the period. In some respects, it makes the same point as Blood and Black Lace, and yet the bleak urban landscapes are a world away from the gothic opulence of Bava's film.

David Hemmings' unnamed photographer is clearly the forerunner to Sam Dalmas and Marc Daly - and indeed, Argento even cast Hemmings as Marc in the seminal Deep Red, itself a clever inversion of Blowup which actually manages to outclass its predecessor. In many respects, though, he's a far nastier piece of work than the two of them put together. Daly had some rather antiquated ideas about the place of women in society, while Dalmas seemed to treat his girlfriend as a commodity, but they pale in significance to the character in Blowup (referred to as "Thomas" in many sources but never actually named in the film itself - actually, names are almost completely absent, a reference, perhaps, to the characters' lack of identity and failure to find a place for themselves in the world), who manhandles several models, forcibly "posing" them and berating them for being useless, not to mention toying with blackmailing a woman (Vanessa Redgrave) who objects to having her picture taken on the sly. That's effectively Antonioni's (and Argento's) point, though: he is a vain, self-absorbed prick, continually searching for a perfect image that doesn't exist, and searching for meaning where there is none. Of course, it's therefore entirely appropriate that the central mystery is a single image whose very meaning continues to elude him (and the more he focuses on the image, the more he loses perspective).

In many regards, Blowup is about as anti-giallo as you can get - there are no on-screen murders, and the film is famous for its deliberate refusal to provide a solution to its central mystery - and yet in orders, you can see the roots of so many 70s gialli in it that it's impossible to ignore it completely. In fact, I'd go so far as to say that the giallo of the golden age is effectively a marriage between Bava's early efforts and Blowup, filtered through Argento's sensibility and adopted by a slew of imitators - a reinterpretation of the form in the context of the post-1968 cultural revolution. It's a brilliant, baffling, mesmerising film in its own right, but when you consider the knock-on effect that it had on the giallo movement, its importance becomes all the more clear.

Next time, I'll be dipping into the bizarre world of Giulio Questi's baffling Death Laid an Egg.

The Giallo Project #3: Blood and Black Lace

Alternative titles: Sei donne per l'assassino; Director: Mario Bava; Starring: Cameron Mitchell, Eva Bartok, Thomas Reiner; Music: Carlo Rustichelli; Italian theatrical release date: March 14th, 1964

Whenever the topic of Blood and Black Lace comes up, I always seem to find myself apologising for not liking it more. I've seen it four or five times now, and on each occasion I find myself feeling strangely distanced from it and unable to see it in quite the same light as its many, many admirers. Maybe it's the fact that it lacks a single clear-cut protagonist to whom I can relate, or perhaps it's because, to date, there has not been a satisfactory presentation of the film on DVD (it's fickle, I know, but there have been occasions when a better transfer has improved my appreciation of a film, particularly those that are visually-oriented). In any event, for whatever reason, Blood and Black Lace is an entry that I see as important on account of its influence, but considerably less interesting when taken on its own merits.

Dubbed "the first authentic body count movie" by VCI on the cover of their (frankly pretty poor) DVD release, Blood and Black Lace builds on the thematics that Bava developed in his previous two gialli, The Girl Who Knew Too Much and The Telephone segment of Black Sabbath, and injects a vital new component that would come to characterise so many other films in the genre: the protracted, deliriously violent murder sequence. While Girl's death scenes, such as there were, were pretty perfunctory, they are Blood and Black Lace's raison d'être, and are quite shocking in their intensity. The very first, occurring in a windswept park at night within the first five minutes, is brutal and frenzied, unveiling the fedora-clad, black-gloved killer (his face concealed with a mask), who, thanks to his sheer viciousness and lack of identifying features, feels more like a force of nature than an actual person.

Actually, it's difficult to fault the murders at all - they are all incredibly well-executed and almost always incredibly sadistic. One unfortunate victim is slapped about before having her hand and then face scalded, while another receives a blow to the face with a spiked glove, prefiguring the killer's modus operandi in Death Walks at Midnight by several years. A further death, occurring late in the film, also sets the template for many a giallo bathtub drowning. However, the scenes designed to connect them together (and I believe that this is all they really are) are considerably more mundane, with the plot never sustaining my interest in that way that Girl's does. Thomas Reiner's wooden Inspector Silvester plods from scene to scene without doing anything particularly interesting, and the various women of the fashion house around which the events revolved are given only enough characterisation for us to know what dirty deeds they have been getting up to in between shows.

Admittedly, some of this really is quite clever. In typical giallo form, everyone is hiding something, whether it's drug addiction, thievery or blackmail, and to an extent you can almost imagine the killer representing a force of brutal retribution. Bava also indulges in one of his favourite pass-times in opening up an outwardly respectable society and revealing it to be corrupt to the core. Furthermore, I don't need to tell you that it's impeccably shot, with Bava's trademark gel lighting giving the various locations an otherworldliness while still anchoring them firmly in reality. However, Blood and Black Lace remains, for me, a stepping stone in the giallo's journey rather than the landmark that many consider it to be. I like it, but I would never afford it masterpiece status.

Sorry again...

Next time, I'll be looking at Michelangelo Antonioni's seminal Blowup (don't worry - all will be explained).

The Giallo Project #2: The Telephone (segment of Black Sabbath)

Alternative titles: Il Telefono; Director: Mario Bava; Starring: Michèle Mercier, Lidia Alfonsi, Milo Quesada (uncredited); Music: Roberto Nicolosi; Italian theatrical release date: August 17th, 1963

I hadn't originally considered including The Telephone in this project, as I was originally planning on only covering feature-length gialli, but Marcus over at Dark Discussion suggested I give it a look. In the end, I'm still not completely sure that it should be included here, since I would only consider it to be a giallo in the broadest possible sense, but it has an important place in history nonetheless, since not only was it the first film of this sort to be shot in colour, not to mention having a profound influence on everything from Black Christmas to Scream in its use of the telephone as a device of dread, it also potentially marks the first instance of the iconic black gloves later to be donned by many a giallo killer!

The plot takes place entirely within a single location, focusing on the protracted terrorising of Rosy (Michèle Mercier) by phone by a voice claiming to be that of Frank Rainer (Milo Quesada), a man who, having been put away as a result of Rosy's testimony, has now escaped from prison... only there's more to this than meets the eye, as it turns out that the calls in fact originate from Mary (Lidia Alfonsi), Rosy's former friend and (as is strongly implied) lover, as part of a bid to rekindle their friendship (and relationship). There is, however, a twist in the affair. Can you guess what it is?

Black Sabbath is introduced by host Boris Karloff as "three brief tales of the supernatural", but, at least in the Italian version (the US edition, like The Girl Who Knew Too Much, features a radically different edit), there is nothing supernatural whatsoever about The Telephone. Rather, it's a very straightforward thriller mixing that perennial giallo cocktail of sex and violence: the voice on the phone discusses killing Rosy in decidedly erotic terms, while a strangling by stocking only serves to underscore the manner in which the two are conflated. As the protagonist, Michèle Mercier is certainly easy on the eyes, and Bava seems to delight in tantalising the audience with the briefest flashes of bare shoulders and legs (of which the voice on the phone approves so much). However, despite looking the part, she lacks the pluckiness and spontaneity that made Letícia Román so appealing in The Girl Who Knew Too Much; she seems more like a forerunner for what would eventually end up becoming the Edwige Fenech role in later gialli of the harangued, attractive victim. Lidia Alfonsi, meanwhile, is rather more effective as the ice-cold femme fatale.

More psychological than most gialli, the horror of the situation comes not from sadistic violence (there isn't any till the final few minutes) but from the fact that the speaker on the phone knows Rosy so intimately, while the room in which the entire segment takes place, despite being quite spacious, takes on an incredibly claustrophobic quality. The transition from black and white to colour, meanwhile, has not harmed Bava's ability to make the most of light and shadow to create tension, while the richly saturated hues, especially on the excellent transfer provided on Anchor Bay's recent DVD, at the same time provides a drastically different aesthetic (one can only dream of Blood and Black Lace looking this good on DVD). Roberto Nicolosi's score, meanwhile, starts out with some of the jazzy lounge aesthetic of Bruno Nicolai's contributions to later gialli, but quickly gives way to a more menacing, sinister tone.

In many ways, this is a minor entry in both Bava's filmography and the history of the giallo - a sub-heading rather than a full chapter, if you like - but it shows many of the tropes that would be established in Blood and Black Lace in a smaller-scale, more rudimentary, form, and works rather well as a short, sharp exploration of mounting dread.

Next time, I'll be looking at Mario Bava's second feature-length giallo, Blood and Black Lace.

The Giallo Project #1: The Girl Who Knew Too Much

Alternative titles: La ragazza che sapeva troppo; The Evil Eye (alternate US edit); Director: Mario Bava; Starring: Letícia Román, John Saxon, Valentina Cortese, Dante DiPaolo; Music: Roberto Nicolosi; Italian theatrical release date: February 10th, 1963

We all have to start somewhere, and I can think of no better film with which to begin this lengthy and probably foolhardy project than this 1963 offering from Mario Bava. While I doubt that you'd ever be able to find two people who completely agree on the definition of the word "giallo" and every single title that it encompasses, it's more or less unanimously agreed that The Girl Who Knew Too Much was the film that launched its cinematic form (unless you count Luchino Visconti's 1943 Obsession - Gary Needham, I'm looking at you!). It's ironic, then, that the first true giallo film is one of the most tongue-in-cheek of the cycle. Almost a parody of thriller conventions, it sends up heroine Nora Davis' (Letícia Román) obsession with paperback gialli and her less than accomplished attempts at amateur sleuthing.

Bava and his five co-writers use the "foreign tourist in Rome" framework that would become so popular with other filmmakers as the giallo gained popularity, placing the wide-eyed Nora against the backdrop of a series of killings known as the Alphabet Murders (actually the title of a Poirot novel and a very self-conscious reference to the giallo's roots in Agatha Christie, Edgar Wallace and Mickey Spillane novels - all of whom are referred to by name in this film) and forcing her to team up with the charming Dr. Marcello Bassi (John Saxon) to solve the mystery herself when she is met with the same disdain and disbelief that The Establishment would dole out to so many other giallo leading ladies. A rather likeable heroine, Nora is a bit silly and possesses an over-active imagination, not to mention a tendency to faint when things get a bit too much, but a lot more independently-minded than many an Edwige Fenech or Suzy Kendall. It also helps that Román has a decent sense of comic timing, playing the slapstick romance scenes between her and Saxon well and not afraid to make a fool of herself when the script calls for it. Indeed, the banter of the pair in many ways prefigures that of David Hemmings and Daria Nicolodi in Deep Red, while the running gag of one or the other continually causing injuries to Marcello is a good one and helps lighten the tension.

Indeed, this is a decidedly light-hearted giallo, with its tongue firmly in its cheek at all times. The Italian version (the American version, released under the title of The Evil Eye, is substantially different, featuring a number of alternative scenes and a different music score) features a male narrator continually commenting on Nora's plight which, in addition to providing a lot of humorous moments also serves to highlight the genre's literary origins. On the other hand, the manner in which it is shot is anything but frivolous: one of the few gialli to be shot in black and white, Bava, who was also the cinematographer, makes superb use of his monochromatic palette to create a world of great foreboding, foregrounding extremes in light and shadow and turning many of the familiar Roman tourist traps, including, most famously, the Spanish Steps (which provides the film with its key set-piece), into places of mystery and dread. Bava takes the Rome of picture postcards and rips open its seedy underbelly, and Marcello's insistence that the Rome of bright sunshine and milling tourists is the "real" one never quite ring true.

This is clearly a very prototypical giallo, and while some elements are already in place, others are either not yet fully formed or else absent entirely. There is no hidden, black-gloved villain - all the potential suspects are unmasked - and the outlandish murder set-pieces that would later become the format's hallmark are nowhere to be found. "One moment and it's all over," the killer promises Nora when finally unmasked, a far cry from the protracted stalk-and-slash scenes that would later delight audiences. There are only a handful of murders, and they are largely committed off-screen, with the body count aesthetic that would emerge in Bava's next giallo, Blood and Black Lace, not yet established.

Of all the Bava films I've seen so far, this is actually the one that I enjoy the most, and in fact I would put it ahead of Blood and Black Lace, for reasons that I'll explain when I get round to discussing that film. It lacks both the depth of a Deep Red and the camp sleaze of a Strange Vice of Mrs. Wardh, but it got the giallo movement off to an impressive start, and it holds up today as a thoroughly enjoyable stand-alone film.

Next time, I'll be looking at Mario Bava's second giallo, Blood and Black Lace.

Update, August 17th, 2007 03:35 PM: At the recommendation of Marcus, the next title to be covered will now be The Telephone segment of Black Sabbath rather than Blood and Black Lace.

Super mega DVD extravagant announcement extravaganza

There were quite a few exciting announcements on the DVD front during my period in the wilderness, so, to make things simple, I've decided to summarise them all in one post. The first of these is Season 5 of Spooks, due for release on September 10th 2007 in the UK from Contender Home Entertainment, presumably to roughly coincide with the launch of Season 6 on BBC1. Personally, I felt that Season 5 was a bit of a step down from Season 4, sacrificing some of its realism in favour of increasingly large-scale and preposterous situations (the opening two-parter featuring a hostile takeover of the British government and an attempt to kidnap the Prime Minister's son), but it was still hugely enjoyable and remains, for me, one of the best things on TV. As with previous DVD releases, the ten episodes will be spread across five discs, although extras seem to be fairly limited this time round, with only two commentaries, interviews, trailers and a video diary preview for Season 6.

On the Italian front, we now have confirmation of the release date and contents of Starz Home Entertainment's next Mario Bava box set. Due out on October 23rd, The Mario Bava Collection: Volume 2 will feature new versions of Baron Blood, Lisa and the Devil, Roy Colt and Winchester Jack, Four Times That Night, Bay of Blood and 5 Dolls for an August Moon. This is a definite must-have for me, and includes three titles that I've never seen. Speaking of which, I really need to get round to watching Kill, Baby... Kill! and Black Sabbath in Volume 1...

Keeping things Roman, Severin Films have also announced that they intend to bring Lucio Fulci's little-seen Seven Notes in Black to DVD on October 30th, under the considerably less classy American title of The Psychic. Bonus materials will include "a never-before-published interview with Fulci as well as interviews with cast and crew". I already own two copies of this title - the (ahem) unauthorised Alfa Digital release, which is in fact a pirate copy of the initial French DVD with an English track attached to it, and the more recent French 2-disc special edition from Neo Publishing. I always felt rather guilty about paying for a bootleg copy that allowed Alfa Digital to take money for other people's hard work, but I desperately needed a copy in English. Now it looks as if I can finally bin it and pick up this authorised version.

Finally, it looks as if Alex Infascelli's most recent film, H2Odio (a.k.a. Hate2O), will be coming out on DVD in the US on November 20th. It's from Tartan Video, so a UK release is also a strong possibility. This is another disc that I'll definitely be picking up, given how much I enjoyed Infascelli's 2000 giallo, Almost Blue (his 2004 offering, The Vanity Serum, was less impressive but still interesting).

Oh, and it seems that Dario Argento's Inferno is finally being released on DVD in Italy, making this only the second DVD release of this film in the world (unless you count that bootleg German DVD with the weird cover art). The artwork chosen for it couldn't be worse, and no English audio or subtitle options appear to be forthcoming, but I'm somewhat tempted to pick it up, (a) to see what it plays like in Italian and (b) on the off-chance that it has a superior transfer to the Anchor Bay release.

Trafficking in illicit gialli

Massimo Dallamano's What Have You Done to Solange? is one of my favourite gialli - in fact, it's probably my all-time favourite non-Argento entry in the genre. His loose follow-up, What Have They Done to Your Daughters?, is also enjoyable, although not on the same level (and it's more of a cop thriller than a dyed-in-the-wool giallo anyway). Dallamano died in 1976 while he was still prepping the third instalment in this so-called "Schoolgirls in Peril" trilogy, and, although it finally did see the light of day, under the title of Enigma Rosso (or [Red] Rings of Fear for English speakers), this Alberto Negrin-helmed conclusion is generally considered to be a pale shadow of its predecessors. I've never seen it, but have wanted to for some time, and not long ago, to my considerable surprise, Spanish DVD distributor Filmax put out a fully letterboxed (2.35:1) release, which I immediately snapped up. The image quality isn't really up to snuff (it's non-anamorphic, soft, and exhibits the tell-tale signs of a bad attempt to noise reduce the artefacts of an analogue master), but it's streets ahead of, say, New Entertainment World's The Iguana with the Tongue of Fire. The problem? The only included audio track is a Spanish dub.

That's actually not as much of a problem as you might think, the reason being that I've managed to get my hands on an English-language version sourced from an old 80s VHS tape. The sound quality, unsurprisingly, is pretty ropey, but they both seem to feature the same cut of the film (it was a co-production between Italy, Spain and West Germany, with several different edits prepared for the various markets), so splicing my own version together shouldn't require too much work.

From various sources, I've also managed to get my hands on a variety of other gialli that I haven't seen yet. Many of these were never released on DVD, and as a result the copies I have look pretty shocking, but it'll be nice to actually sit down and watch some completely new (to me) gialli:

Naked You Die (Antonio Margheriti, 1968)
The Sweet Body of Deborah (Romolo Guerrieri, 1968)
The Frightened Woman (Piero Schivazappa, 1969)
In the Folds of the Flesh (Sergio Bergonzelli, 1970)
Hatchet for the Honeymoon (Mario Bava, 1970)
Cross Current (Tonino Ricci, 1971)
My Dear Killer (Tonino Valerii, 1972)
Eye in the Labyrinth (Mario Caiano, 1972)
Naked Girl Killed in Park (Alfonso Brescia, 1972)
French Sex Murders (Ferdinando Merighi, 1972)
The Killer Must Kill Again (Luigi Cozzi, 1975)
Eyeball (Umberto Lenzi, 1975)
Giallo a Venezia (Mario Landi, 1979)
A Blade in the Dark (Lamberto Bava, 1983)
Midnight Ripper (Lamberto Bava, 1986)
The Devil's Honey (Lucio Fulci, 1986)

Seems like enough to be getting on with, at any rate, although I won't be sitting down to watch them yet. My plan is to go through every giallo I own in as near to possible as chronological order - a rather daunting task, but one that I hope will get me thinking about appropriate topics for my PhD. I'll be going by the original Italian theatrical release dates (as per IMDB), if available, but in certain cases I'll only have the year of release to go by. I've done a brief recky and have made some interesting discoveries - did you know that The Black Belly of the Tarantula, The Case of the Scorpion's Tail, The Night Evelyn Came Out of the Grave, Cross Current, The Iguana with the Tongue of Fire and The Fifth Cord were all released one after the other, with no more than four days between each? There truly does seem to have been a time when a new giallo was coming out every week. In any event, a conservative estimate tells me that I have more than 80 titles to get through. Wish me luck!

Remember me?

No updates in over a week! You thought I'd forgotten about you, didn't you? Nothing could be further from the truth, as it happens. I did forewarn you that updates might be scarce until I'd got past my unusually busy work period, but I never for a moment thought that I wouldn't post anything at all. As it happens, though, this ended up being the best solution, because it meant that I wasn't forcing myself to make half-hearted posts in my state of perpetual weariness. I now have Thursday and Friday waiting ahead of my completely free, so you can expect a variety of posts on all sorts of exciting subjects, including the latest information on Starcraft II and Hellgate: London, a review of Episode 5 of Buffy the Vampire Slayer's eighth season, news on some exciting upcoming DVD and HD releases, an overview of Casualty's recently-finished twenty-first series, some of the rare gialli I've managed to get my hands on, and much more.

First things first, though, the employment front. I started my new job at the Gallery of Modern Art library on Wednesday August 1st, but I didn't actually finish working with the NHS until yesterday. I thankfully managed to wrangle a few days of paid holiday, covering the days during which the two jobs would overlap (and Thursday and Friday this week, as it happens - yay!), but that doesn't mean I haven't had my plate full recently. I really am absolutely shattered, with the past three weeks having felt like a blur of early starts and late finishes, thanks to my parents leaving me and Lyris in charge of the dogs for a week when they went on holiday, seguing immediately into my moonlighting fiasco. Even last Sunday wasn't much of a reprieve, as we went on a family outing to watch my cousin's first child being forcibly inducted into a weird cult called Christianity, when I just wanted to crawl into bed and sleep. I got there in the end, though, and I got a nice send-off from the NHS, with two lunches out an impromptu party complete with carrot cake!

Anyway, I think I'm going to like working at the library. It's surprisingly tiring work, since I'm basically on my feet all day, but time passes much more quickly at the NHS, the work is more varies, and, hey, it's only two days a week! The breaks are also extremely generous, with 20 minutes in the morning, an hour for lunch, and a further 20 minutes in the afternoon. I suspect my "weekend" will end up being Sunday and Monday once I get started on my PhD, since I'm working Wednesdays and Saturdays, and intend to make myself adhere fairly strictly to a five-day week.

Anyway, it's good to be back.

There's no need to adjust your television set

You can expect posts on this site to be extremely scarce until the middle of next week. Why? Because I'll be working two jobs simultaneously, and am going to have much less time (and energy) for posting than usual. Worry not, however, for, by the end of August 8th, I'll only be working two days a week, and will be able to dedicate some more time to news, reviews and so on. Of course, at some point in September, I'll be embarking on my PhD, so it's not as if I'll just be putting my feet up for the other five days of the week, but hopefully I'll be able to share some of the process with you via this site. In particular, I intend to undertake a mammoth giallo-watching project, for the purposes of which I've been acquiring some rare titles to add to my collection. Stay tuned for a full list of titles and details as to the format and schedule of the project.

Oh, and, mindful of the fact that my lack of posting will quite possibly cause the front page to be virtually devoid of content, given that Movable Type is set to display news posts for the last seven days only, I've changed the configuration to show a set number of posts instead (25).

The ten highest-rated gialli

According to IMDB...

1. Deep Red (Dario Argento, 1975)
2. Eye in the Labyrinth (Mario Caiano, 1972)
3. Blood and Black Lace (Mario Bava, 1964)
4. What Have They Done to Your Daughters? (Massimo Dallamano, 1974)
5. The Case of the Scorpion's Tail (Sergio Martino, 1971)
6. Tenebre (Dario Argento, 1982)
7. The Perfume of the Lady in Black (Francesco Barilli, 1974)
8. Don't Torture a Duckling (Lucio Fulci, 1972)
9. Opera (Dario Argento, 1987)
10. The Bird with the Crystal Plumage (Dario Argento, 1970)

Ignoring the presence of The Perfume of the Lady in Black, which I don't consider to be a giallo in the first place, this is a pretty interesting list. Deep Red's Number 1 status is hardly unexpected, as is the general favouring of Argento's output - 40% of the titles are his (although this probably has a lot to do with the fact that his gialli are likely to be the most widely known). Naturally, I disagree with most of the list, but I suppose that's what you get when you turn to the IMDB for guidance!

So, what do other people's Top 10 lists look like?

Finally, some Blu-ray titles worth owning

So far, a few decent titles have been released as Blu-ray exclusives, but hardly any of them have been must-haves. For me, Casino Royale, The Descent, The Devil's Rejects and Kingdom of Heaven are the only titles that would fall into that category, with only The Descent standing out as a near-classic. All that will change in October, however, when Starz Home Entertainment/Anchor Bay will release their first slate of titles. DavisDVD has the scoop on the cover art, rough specs and release dates of their initial line-up:

October 2nd, 2007: Dawn of the Dead, Halloween, Evil Dead II and Day of the Dead
October 16th, 2007: Masters of Horror Season 1 Volume 1 (Cigarette Burns, Dreams in the Witch-house, The Fair Haired Child), Masters of Horror Season 1 Volume 2 (Jenifer, Sick Girl, Deer Woman)
November 6th, 2007: Beowulf & Grendel
November 13th, 2007: Masters of Horror Season 1 Volume 3 (Incident On and Off a Mountain Road, Dance of the Dead, Pick Me Up)
December 11th, 2007: Masters of Horror Season 1 Volume 4 (Imprint, Homecoming, Haeckel's Tale, Chocolate)

I'll definitely be picking up all of the October 2nd releases, and am currently undecided on Masters of Horror. I'll probably get Volume 2 for Jenifer, so I can own some HD Argento, even if it's bottom drawer HD Argento, but I'm not convinced I can see myself splurging on the other volumes. I'll probably wait to see what my finances are like at the time, or perhaps look into the prospect of a review copy or two. Beowulf & Grendel is the odd one out in this otherwise horror-themed line-up, and I can't see myself rushing out to pick it up... although it does star Sarah Polley, who can make just about anything watchable (why else d'you think I'm buying the Dawn of the Dead remake on HD DVD?). One thing's for sure, Anchor Bay are to be commended for having the guts to step into the murky waters of high definition, and I sincerely hope the sales of these releases persuade them to continue releasing titles on Blu-ray. (How 'bout those Tenebre and Phenomena special editions - pleeeeease?)

Specs for the first four releases are as follows, by the way: 1080p transfers (duh), PCM 5.1 audio, and all of the extras from the standard definition releases. Each disc will carry an RRP of $29.97. No word on the video codec - I'm just hoping it's not MPEG2, which their HD distributor, MGM, favours. Oh, and I'm assuming Dawn of the Dead is just the standard theatrical cut.

But it's just cartoons, innit?

Generally speaking, Japanese animation doesn't do a whole lot for me, unless it's by Hayao Miyazaki, and even then I tend to be a bit picky. Back when I was doing my MLitt, however, we had a lecture on anime, during which we were shown Tokyo Godfathers, which, in addition to having an incredibly witty and involving narrative, boasted the most outrageous posing and facial expressions I've ever seen outside of Warner Brothers and Spumco - a far cry from the usual static faces with only the mouths opening and closing favoured by anime directors. The director of this film was Satoshi Kon, whose greatest claim to fame appears to be Perfect Blue, described by some as the closest thing in existence to an anime giallo.

Anyway, his latest film, Paprika, was recently released on Blu-ray in certain territories, including Japan and France. Judging by the trailers and stills that I've seen, its animation eschews the flamboyance of Tokyo Godfathers in favour of the more static, conservative look usually associated with anime, but, given the complete and utter dearth of 2D animation on either of the HD formats (barring the three Looney Tunes cartoons included on The Adventures of Robin Hood HD DVD), I'm willing to take what I can get, and in any event I'm hoping that Paprika demonstrates the same quality of storytelling seen in Tokyo Godfathers. Anyway, I've ordered a copy of the French release, which DVDRAMA tells me is region-free and includes English subtitles.

Speaking of 2D high definition animation in France, according to FilmTalk, Sylvain Chomet's Les Triplettes de Belleville (or Belleville Rendez-vous, or The Triplets of Belleville, depending on where you are in the world) is to get an HD DVD release (from Warner, presumably, as they released the standard definition version) on October 31st 2007. Given that it is almost completely dialogue-free, English subtitles (or lack thereof) should not be an issue. Needless to say, I'll definitely be picking this one up too.

Welcome back to the land of the living

Well, my holiday is over, and this morning it was back to work for me. That said, now is probably as good a time as any to tell you that I won't be there for much longer. I've been offered a part-time job as a library assistant at Glasgow's Gallery of Modern Art, working 9-to-5 on Wednesdays and Saturdays - ideal for when I get started on my PhD. I sent my letter of resignation to head office this morning, telling them that I plan to work until next Friday (the 20th), and my intention is to make this known to the rest of the team tomorrow. I'm not quite sure how they're going to react - productivity has increased substantially since I've been around to shoulder some of the workload, so I would imagine my contributions will be missed - but I don't foresee there being any problems with my leaving. Either way, in less than a fortnight, I'll be gone, and, while I certainly don't harbour any ill feeling towards my co-workers, and indeed have probably learned a lot from the experience, I can't say I'll be too sorry to go. The job, when all said and done, is pretty monotonous, and, given the choice of processing forms for 37 and a half hours a week or working in a library 14 hours a week and spending the rest of my time studying gialli, well, I know what I'd rather by doing.

Speaking of gialli, I picked up a book via Amazon's Marketplace called Italian Horror Film Directors, written by European Trash Cinema contributor Louis Paul. I became aware of this title via Keith Brown's excellent blog Giallo Fever, and, while his write-up suggests that this is a rather flawed book, there are so few publications dealing with gialli and Italian genre cinema in general that I came to the conclusion that it would be wise to line my bookshelf with this rather weighty hardback. If nothing else, it's another entry to add to my PhD's bibliography, and I'm sure it'll be an enjoyable enough read even if it's not on the same level as, say, Broken Mirrors, Broken Minds or La Dolce Morte.

When the Starz go Blu

Source: High-Def Digest

Hot on the heels of the news that Starz Home Entertainment (formerly Anchor Bay) had tossed its hat into the high definition ring with the announcement that the first season of Masters of Horror would be coming to Blu-ray, the company has now provided specs for this release (a set of four BD50s, 1080p transfers, PCM 5.1 audio, and "comparable extras" to the standard definition counterparts), as well as the news that Halloween, plus entries in the Evil Dead and George A. Romero's original zombie trilogy will be showing up in October (the article states that we'll be seeing "three to four" titles, so exactly what will be released seems to still be up in the air).

I have to say I think it's really good that Starz are debuting with some of their big guns. I'm not sure how long it'll be before we see some gialli in high definition (I'm hoping for those long-promised special editions of Tenebre and Phenomena), but things do finally seem to be on the move for fans of the more obscure side of cinema.

Anchor Bay goes Blu

Source: High-Def Digest

Well, colour me surprised, excited and disappointed in equal measure? Starz Home Entertainment, the DVD company formerly known as Anchor Bay, have added their name to the still-small list of independents producing high definition content. The good news? We may soon get to see Dawn of the Dead (the original, not the remake), Halloween, The Evil Dead et al in HD. The bad news? They have tossed their hat exclusively into the Blu-ray ring (I was sure they would go with HD DVD, if anything), and their only announced release so far is the first season of Masters of Horror. Oh, and MGM is handling the distribution, which, given their track record with their own titles so far, is slightly worrying.

I must say I never thought the first Dario Argento title to get an HD release would be Jenifer. That's just... wrong. Still, looking on the bright side, I'm now hopeful that those HD-mastered special editions of Tenebre and Phenomena will eventually emerge, on both DVD and Blu-ray. That's what I'm hoping at any rate. Those, coupled with an HD DVD of Suspiria from The Weinstein Company, would put me in HD heaven. It's just too bad so many of the other Argento films are owned by the HD-phobic Blue Underground.

BU Stendhal specs announced

Fangoria has got the scoop on Blue Underground's upcoming release of Dario Argento's The Stendhal Syndrome, due for release on September 25th. This 2-disc special edition will feature the following specifications and extras:

Disc 1:
- 119 minute uncut version
- 16x9-enhanced 1.66:1 transfer
- 6.1 Dolby DTS-ES English audio track
- 5.1 Dolby Surround EX English audio track
- 2.0 Dolby Surround Italian audio track
- Original Theatrical Trailer

Disc 2:
- "Director: Dario Argento" featurette
- "Inspiration: Psychological Consultant Graziella Magherini" featurette
- "Special Effects: Sergio Stivaletti" featurette
- "Assistant Director: Luigi Cozzi" featurette
- "Production Designer: Massimo Antonello Geleng" featurette

Sounds like it's going to be a great set, although I'm a little confused as to why Blue Underground would bother remixing the horrendous English dub into 6.1 rather than the vastly superior Italian version (and I'm a little concerned that no mention is made of subtitles - such things are not guaranteed with Bill Lustig at the helm, even when non-English audio is included). It's also a shame Alan Jones seemingly didn't get a chance to record that interview with Asia Argento for the disc that he was trying to put together at Cannes.

On the same day, Blue Underground will also be re-releasing The Cat O' Nine Tails, Opera and Suspiria. As with their earlier releases of Deep Red and Inferno, these will simply be the old Anchor Bay DVDs repackaged. Opera will be the single-disc release, while Suspiria will be a 2-disc set, presumably replicating the first two discs of the Anchor Bay 3-disc limited edition, sans soundtrack CD.

This information discovered by R.J. MacReady at Dark Discussion.

What sort of noise does a goblin make?

Are you a fan of Goblin? Do you have a lot of money to fritter away? Then you might be interested in this 8-CD box set from Japan, featuring the scores to Profondo Rosso (2 discs), Suspiria, Roller, Il Fantastico Viaggio del Bagarozzo Mark, Zombi, Tenebre and Cherry Five. Myself, I doubt that I'd be prepared to spend this much money on music even if I could afford it, but I'm sure it will make a few collectors out there very happy. Incidentally, I do need to pick up the scores to Profondo Rosso and Tenebre, which for some reason are missing from my library of CDs.

Credit for discovering this little gem goes to Andrew Monroe at DVD Maniacs.

DVDs I bought or received in the month of April

• Casino Royale (R0 Finland, Blu-ray)
• Dragon's Lair (RA USA, Blu-ray)
• The Game (R0 USA, HD DVD)
• King Arthur (RA USA, Blu-ray)
• The Mario Bava Collection Volume 1 (R1 USA, DVD)
• A Scanner Darkly (R0 USA, HD DVD)

Somewhat slim pickings this month, and I note that the decline in my purchasing of standard definition titles continues, with only one actual DVD being bought. I wasn't sure whether or not to include Dragon's Lair, as it's technically a game rather than a film, but I suppose it's a borderline case, and, given the mechanics of how it operates and the inclusion of DVD-style bonus content, it ultimately makes the grade.

The Bill Lustig syndrome

Blue Underground boss Bill Lustig recently gave an interview to Belgian site Cultfilms en Kultfilms, in which he discussed a number of pertinent issues, including his own career as a director, the status of upcoming titles, and, perhaps most importantly, the company's future. Sadly, the news does not appear to be good: apparently the DVD market is currently at a stage where saturation is so high that it's impossible for obscure titles to compete against the big guns and make a profit.

Still, we do have some nice releases to look forward to, the main one for me being the upcoming special edition of The Stendhal Syndrome, which will replace the Troma monstrosity as the official American release of this often-underappreciated 1996 gem from Dario Argento. I previously expressed reservations, based on Blue Underground's track record of often not including Italian audio options for such films (and The Stendhal Syndrome is a film that needs to be experienced in Italian). Any fears can be laid to rest, however, as, according to Lustig:

Will you feature both the English and the Italian versions?
Yes - the English and the Italian. We just finished the transfer in high-definition under the supervision of the director from the composite, so it's the definitive version.

Let's just hope they remember to throw in English subtitles, unlike some of those multi-language Anchor Bay titles where the non-English dubs are essentially useless unless you speak the language.

Information has also been provided on the bonus content:

Would you consider letting Dario Argento do an audio commentary in subtitled Italian?
Well - no - we're not doing an audio commentary, but we're shooting an interview with him next thursday. Him and Asia and Guiseppe Rotunno, Sergio Stivaletti and the author of the book. We're shooting those interviews in Rome on the 18th and the 19th. And when I say 'we' - I'm not going to Rome, it's going to be David Gregory who works for me.

I'm slightly disappointed by the lack of a commentary (I had hoped that we'd get another of Alan Jones' excellent efforts), but the interviews sound excellent. Sign me up for this release.

Update, April 15th, 2007 10:02 PM: Apparently Lustig was misquoted in the original interview, so "director of the composite" should read "director of photography" (i.e. Giuseppe Rotunno).

DVD image comparison: The Girl Who Knew Too Much

I've put together a DVD image comparison, pitting the new Anchor Bay edition of The Girl Who Knew Too Much, found in The Mario Bava Collection Volume 1, with the older, out of print Image Entertainment release.

I've seen a couple of reviews describing the new transfer as a marked improvement on the old one, but I'm not sure why. The same master has clearly been used for both, although the Anchor Bay version has been subjected to some DVNR (digital video noise reduction). This has the result of cleaning up some of the more distracting damage on what was admittedly a very rough-looking print, but at the same time it also freezes the grain patterns, resulting in an image that, overall, looks more "fake" and digital than its predecessor. There's also a smidge more edge enhancement on the AB transfer.

Both discs feature pretty much the same audio and subtitles - the Image track is 1.0 mono, whereas the AB track is 2.0 dual mono, but this ultimately results in no appreciable difference. Like most gialli, The Girl Who Knew Too Much was shot with the actors speaking English and then post-dubbed. As a result, the Italian dialogue doesn't match the lip movements of the actors on screen. However, because the Italian and American cuts of the film are so different, matching up the English audio to the Italian cut would probably not have been feasible. In any event, it seems that rights issues have prevented the American version, entitled The Evil Eye, from being included on this disc, and those legal problems probably extend to the audio.

The clear winner, in terms of extras, is the AB release. The Tim Lucas commentary is excellent, and the John Saxon interview, while brief, is enlightening and entertaining. The Image disc does have a couple of filmographies not found on the AB release, but I doubt anyone will mourn their absence.