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IntroductionIn his essay on utopia as a construction of emotion in the Hollywood musical, "Entertainment and Utopia", Richard Dyer argues that this genre is characterised by a split between the narrative, which he argues takes place in a world close to that of reality and in which the plot is advanced, and the musical numbers, which serve as a spectacle and take place in a world of fantasy in which the rules of reality cease to apply and a different range of emotions can be observed.[1] Although concerned primarily with the musical, Dyer's comments have relevance in the field of textualism as a whole, for this conflict between two contradictory modes can be seen in several genres and movements in cinema history. As shall be argued in this essay, the body of Italian thrillers known as gialli features a similar tension regarding their portrayal of gender and sexuality. This is a complex subject, and would require a study of significantly greater length than this to do it justice. Therefore, I have chosen to limit the scope of my analysis and deal primarily with the representation of women in gialli, paying particular attention to their sexuality and notions of independence. Essentially, my argument is that most gialli betray the fact that their authors have a reactionary attitude towards sexuality, while at the same time exploiting depictions of it. In selecting films for analysis, I have approached the subject from the perspective of auteur theory, to provide a comprehensible framework for my argument and to limit to a manageable number the titles for consideration. Auteur theory is not without its problems, however, especially when applied to the giallo. Referring specifically to the films of Lucio Fulci, Thrower points out that, while it is convenient to think of the director as the principal creative force behind a film, this is misleading as it paints an idealised and unrealistic portrait of the nature of film production.[2] The majority of gialli were primarily attempts to capitalise on the sudden popularity of Dario Argento's L'Uccello Dalle Piume di Cristallo/The Bird With the Crystal Plumage (1970) rather than serious artistic endeavours. Often, they would be scripted by a committee of writers and helmed by a 'hired hand' director with little creative involvement beyond overseeing the shooting process. Of all the filmmakers who specialised in gialli, Argento, who both wrote and produced his own films and, as will be forwarded, usually had a unique point to make, is one of a select few to whom the label of 'auteur' can comfortably be applied (one might also make a case for Fulci, although Thrower disagrees). Nevertheless, classification must begin somewhere and, at the risk of oversimplification, I will therefore assume each film discussed to be the product of a single author. For Argento and also for Fulci, this is arguably feasible, but regarding most other giallo directors as auteurs is more tenuous. To allow consideration and comparison with work which falls within the more standard pattern of giallo output, I shall, rather than focus on another director, examine a film scripted by Ernesto Gastaldi. A prolific giallo screenwriter, it is reasonable to assume that he is the author of the films for which he is credited, effectively giving him equal status to Argento and Fulci. In his essay, Dyer asserts that there are three main types of musical: "those that keep narrative and number clearly separated"; "those that retain the division between narrative as problems and numbers as escape"; and "those which try to dissolve the distinction between narrative and numbers".[3] Likewise, my contention is that there are essentially three types of giallo: those that do not directly engage with sexual politics but which inadvertently reveal the reactionary nature of their authors through the plot mechanics; those that directly address gender as a plot device, either concretely or abstractly, and do so in a reactionary manner; and those that directly address gender in a progressive manner. It is my thesis that these descriptions roughly correspond with the films of Gastaldi, Fulci and Argento, respectively. Because the vast majority of serious academic criticism of the giallo has focused on Argento's films (with what might be considered the more 'ordinary' gialli being largely ignored), in my discussion of Gastaldi and Fulci's work, comparative reference will be made to Argento.
Ernesto GastaldiThe films for which Gastaldi was responsible tend largely to correspond most rigorously to the notion of conflicting attitudes to gender and sexuality. It is therefore logical to consider his output first. There are exceptions, to be sure - for example, La Morte Accarezza a Mezzanotte/Death Walks at Midnight (1972) features a remarkably forthright and resourceful heroine who seems more than capable of holding her own in a world populated by lecherous and condescending men - but for the most part his gialli are characterised by an unambiguously patriarchal outlook on life. The portrayal of women in these films must be considered within the context of the audience towards which they were aimed. This is difficult to ascertain, since no real audience research seems to have been carried out for gialli. However, a predominantly male audience may be assumed, not only because these films frequently focus on glamorous women placed in perilous situations, but because horror and thriller films have a long-standing reputation for appealing mainly to young male viewers.[4] In his introduction to the giallo, Gary Needham speculates that the frequent emphasis on high fashion also gives these films a level of "camp appeal", implying a potential audience beyond this familiar horror/thriller demographic, although I suspect that this is an unintentional by-product rather than a conscious attempt by the filmmakers to appeal to such viewers.[5] (Again, Argento may be the exception to the rule, for he has claimed that his audience is predominantly female.[6] Again, however, no empirical data exists to support this.) Perché Quelle Strane Gocce di Sangue sul Corpo di Jennifer?/The Case of the Bloody Iris (1972), directed by Giuliano Carnimeo from a script by Gastaldi, is highly typical of the genre, in terms of both its plot mechanics and its representations of gender and sexuality. While the film itself is relatively shallow, showing none of the subtextual depth present in the work of Argento and Fulci, an analysis of its characterisations does reveal something of the mindset of its writer. As is so often the case with gialli, the diverse set of personalities possess little depth, usually being mere archetypes rather than fully fledged characters. The central positions are occupied by Edwige Fenech and George Hilton, who appear in several gialli, almost always with the same personalities: Fenech as an attractive and helpless victim, frequently reduced to hysterics and completely reliant on Hilton, as the stoic male lead and potential love interest, to come to her rescue. In this film, and indeed in the majority of gialli, the focus is on a female protagonist, but the actual power is invested in the male lead, who must come to the aid of the weak-willed 'heroine'. (Argento's films tend to break with this tradition, in that several of them focus on an ineffectual, self-conscious male protagonist surrounded by powerful women. Having said this, the films Argento made in the 1980s and 1990s saw a noticeable shift towards female leads.) Throughout The Case of the Bloody Iris, Fenech's character runs from danger to danger, responding to each situation by screaming and breaking down in tears until Hilton can save her: she is very much the stereotypical female victim of horror and thriller cinema, and it becomes clear that, despite the plot's focus on a woman, the writer is unable to see the events from her perspective and thus resorts to fetishising her as a fantasy figure for males: the helpless victim whose very survival is dependent on masculine support. This stereotypical treatment of women extends to the supporting roles, which are even less defined than that of the heroine. The secondary characters - both women and men - virtually all of whom become victims or are, at some point, suspects, are all involved, as Ashley Lane describes, "in an unusual sexual practice (such as group sex or lesbianism) or are at least 'loose' in some way".[7] This gives the impression that those who do not conform to a traditional conservative agenda regarding what is 'appropriate' sexual behaviour - in other words a monogamous relationship between a man and a woman - are punished for their digressions by being killed off. This concept is very common in horror, perhaps most famously being embodied in John Carpenter's Halloween (1978), where the female victims were all sexually active while the surviving heroine was not. Carpenter has since claimed that he did not intend to send out this message, and I would argue that the same is true of Gastaldi: the majority of gialli were designed simply to sell tickets rather than to promote a specific political or social agenda. The point remains, however, that this film, and many of its contemporaries, exhibit this attitude not only towards women and those of an 'unusual' sexual disposition, but towards minority figures as a whole. In The Case of the Bloody Iris, for example, the only black character in the cast is killed off almost as soon as she is introduced, while a physically deformed man is clearly labelled as the prime suspect for no reason other than because he is deformed, exploiting his handicap to place him as a sort of Frankenstein's monster. Likewise, a lesbian character is clearly labelled as potentially unstable (and thus a suspect) due to her sexuality, with one character telling her that her problem is that she needs to "get with a man".[8] The implication here is, of course, that her lesbianism goes hand in hand with insanity or murderous tendencies, a notion that I will continue to develop in my discussion of Lucio Fulci's work. At the same time, however, the condemnation of overt female sexuality seems to be inconsistent with the heroine being clearly intended to be the focus of masculine desire, both for the film's male characters and for the male audience. The number of times in which she is shown in a state of undress or in a romantic entanglement demonstrates that Gastaldi is not opposed to an overt depiction of sexuality in itself but rather to specific types of sexuality. That said, even depictions of 'unusual' (and therefore, going by the morality of the film, inappropriate) sexuality are eroticised, such as the soft-focus flashbacks portraying the heroine's life with her bigamist former lover and his multiple sexual partners. In summary, the film on one hand condemns this sort of sexuality but on the other exploits it, creating a bizarre duality in which the audience is overtly expected to disapprove of the same elements from which they are gaining enjoyment.
Lucio FulciOf the three gialli that he wrote and directed in the 1970s, Una Locertola con la Pelle di Donna/A Lizard in a Woman's Skin (1971) is Lucio Fulci's most complex work as regards gender and sexuality. Like many gialli, it features prominent depictions of lesbianism, which are used to label the female protagonist, Carol Hammond (Florinda Bolkan), as both mad and homicidal. Fulci deals with this aspect of the plot in an abstract manner, portraying it through a series of dreams that Carol experiences: dreams which, according to her psychiatrist, uncover truths that are repressed in everyday reality. This use of Freudian psychology is far from unusual in the giallo genre, with Argento also making frequent use of the notion of dormant psychosis. In Fulci's film, the various locations glimpsed in Carol's dreams - a railway carriage in which nude men and woman convulse; the room in which she fornicates with and later kills her seductive neighbour, Julia Durer (Anita Strindberg) - seem to constitute visualisations of the deepest recesses of her mind. Of course, like so many gialli, the final explanation abandons the abstract in favour of logic, as it is revealed that Carol did in fact murder Julia, but recast the event as a dream in order to deny, even to herself, her involvement. Nevertheless, this use of dreams is important with regard to representations of gender. In A Lizard in a Woman's Skin, Carol's repressed homosexuality is portrayed as a component of a split personality disorder: something that is separated from her everyday persona and can only surface in the form of these hallucinations. Most interestingly, Carol's mixed reactions of lust and disgust towards Julia Durer mirror the use of sex and gender in many gialli. According to the psychiatrist, Julia "represents degradation and vice"; Carol's consciousness, he claims, "forces [her] to disapprove of that woman's way of life, but at the same time her freedom excites [her] curiosity".[9] This suggests that Fulci had some awareness of the dual nature of the giallo's use of sexuality: the audience, like Carol, is expected to condemn it, and yet at the same time it holds an undeniable appeal that can be exploited. As Thrower notes, certain feminist critics have speculated that the portrayal of lesbian sex may appeal to heterosexual males because it both "thrills and terrifies" them, providing a spectacle that titillates while at the same time demonstrating "the existence of an independent female desire which has no need of men to generate its pleasures".[10] This notion of a fear of lesbianism may go some way towards explaining why lesbians, not just in gialli but in the arts as a whole, are habitually portrayed as mad, or evil, or both. By presenting a woman who desires another woman as insane, the 'threat' posed by lesbianism is diminished by the implication that it is unnatural and only affects a deviant minority, while portraying her as evil can be used to justify killing her (Julia) or putting her behind bars (Carol). In essence, sex and murder are conflated to the extent that they become indistinguishable (this is further expounded in the dream sequence in which Carol stabs Julia to death, where Julia's reactions are not unlike throes of passion). In many respects, it is probably safe to say that Fulci's gialli are as conservative in their attitudes towards sexuality and gender as those written by Gastaldi. Where they differ, though, is in their willingness to engage with the issues they raise. In The Case of the Bloody Iris, the demonising and culling of minority figures (both in terms of gender and otherwise) can easily be seen as unintentionally revealing something about the writer's mindset rather than being born out of a conscious desire to 'punish'. In A Lizard in a Woman's Skin, the use of Freudian psychology as a key plot point implies that Fulci's attitudes (and what the film reveals about them), while seemingly similar to Gastaldi's, were considerably more deliberate.
Dario ArgentoFor the final section of this essay I turn to the films of Dario Argento. A superficial reading of Argento's work might give the impression that his attitudes regarding gender are as reactionary as those of his contemporaries. This is exemplified by his frequent use of women as victims and his seemingly fetishistic photographing of their deaths; indeed, comments made by Argento himself, such as "I like women, especially beautiful ones... being murdered",[11] have done nothing to appease his detractors. A closer inspection, however, reveals that Argento is in fact rare among giallo directors, not only with regard to his self-awareness and willingness to engage with the issues raised by his films, but also in his progressive attitudes and challenging of conventional gender roles. Indeed, in several of his films the ultimate 'twist' is revealed to be an unexpected revelation about the killer's gendered identity, which confounds perceived norms.[12] Lane compares Argento's work specifically to The Case of the Bloody Iris, contrasting Gastaldi's typecasting of those engaged in "unusual sexual practice" as potential suspects or victims with Argento's willing engagement with issues of gender that tend to arise in horror and thriller cinema. He points out that Tenebre (1982)'s two killers, first conservative critic Cristiano Berti and later giallo author Peter Neal, approach their killings in completely different ways, with Berti going after women who embody loose archetypes of "perversion" (e.g. lesbians, a shoplifter who attempts to prostitute herself to avoid being reported), while Neal kills both women and men, but only those who have personally wronged him or get in his way. Berti, who bases his murders on those of the killer in Neal's book, Tenebrae, is portrayed as having "misinterpreted" the novel while Neal, who has often been inferred to be a surrogate for Argento himself, adamantly denounces the same charges of sexism that have also been levelled against Argento.[13] The crucial point, therefore, is that Argento is not only aware of the usual attitudes towards sexuality and gender in the giallo, he also directly engages with this issue and creates a film that serves as something of a meta-commentary on the genre, contrasting a 'traditional' killer with a decidedly atypical one. A further example of Argento's engagement with issues of gender in Tenebre, as identified by Xavier Mendik,[14] is the casting of a transsexual actor, Roberto Coatti (credited in the film as Eva Robbins), as a seductress who appears in the flashbacks that inspire Neal to begin his killing spree. By casting a transsexual in this role, Argento signifies an awareness of gender politics and also has some fun at the audience's expense, placing in a role that would probably be considered to be exploitative of women (the woman performs a striptease before a crowd of male onlookers before being struck by Neal) an actor who was at one point actually a man.[15] Tenebre is not the only example of Argento's divergence from the giallo norm in his dealing with gender issues. A significant number of his films engage with gender roles, including his directorial debut, The Bird With the Crystal Plumage. Like a number of Argento's gialli, it features a female killer, and in doing so unsurprisingly provokes accusations of misogyny. Indeed, in his study of colonialism in relation to the film, Frank Burke points to the "younger and more vital" nature of the killer, Monica Ranieri (Eva Renzi), in relation to her "asexual husband", suggesting that, like so many gialli, The Bird With the Crystal Plumage makes an implicit connection between strong, sexual women and murder or insanity.[16] However, such a reading is superficial and sells a complex film short. Argento establishes murder as an unequivocally 'male' pursuit, going to great lengths to lead the audience to believe that the killer will be a man (and making a clear link between killing and the act of sexual penetration in a scene in which a victim is stabbed in the vagina). Indeed, I would interpret the film's ending, in which several male characters attempt to blame Monica herself for her insanity and homicidal drive, as deeply cynical. By placing the blame solely at Monica's feet, they delude themselves, ignoring the fact that her killing spree was ignited as the result of a vicious attack carried out on her by a man. Monica, too, is therefore a victim of male violence, and as a result Argento's work as a whole demands a more in-depth reading than a cursory charge of misogyny would permit.[17]
ConclusionIn much the same way that the musical features an uneasy balance between narrative and the spectacle of musical numbers, the giallo is characterised by contradictory attitudes towards gender and sexuality, often presenting for entertainment purposes that which its creators seem to deem immoral or worthy of punishment. Likewise, in the same way that Dyer argues that show business does not simply "give the people what they want",[18] gialli do not merely provide their audience with a spectacle of pleasurable vices, but rather curtail them, often with an undercurrent of reactionary morality. Despite this, these films cannot be considered chaste by any stretch of the imagination: despite their moralising (whether it is subconscious or not), they did break new ground in their upfront portrayal of sexuality. Ultimately, while there are a number of high profile exceptions to these rules, the vast majority of this sub-genre's films can be seen to correspond to them. At the same time, though, it would be wrong to assume that all gialli are the same, as the study of the films of Argento, Fulci and Gastaldi reveals decidedly different attitudes and techniques among these three authors. This complex topic is ultimately beyond the scope of this essay, and further study would be both insightful and worthwhile. In particular, issues such as the victimisation of women and the male gaze, as well as representations of masculinity, which have not been explored in this essay but are undeniably pertinent in these films, could serve as useful topics for discussion in future research.
Footnotes1. Richard Dyer, "Entertainment and Utopia", in Only Entertainment (New York: Routledge, 1992), pp. 18-29 2. Stephen Thrower, Beyond Terror: The Films of Lucio Fulci, Second Edition (Surrey: FAB Press, 2002), pp. 265-267 3. Dyer, p. 26 4. Karen Boyle, Media and Violence (London: SAGE Publications, 2005) pp. 128-130 5. Gary Needham (10 June 2002), KinoEye: Playing with genre: An introduction to the Italian giallo, http://www.kinoeye.org/02/11/needham11.php (accessed 12 December 2005) 6. Interview with Dario Argento included with the 2005 American DVD release of The Card Player: "I have continued along in my own way and now have discovered that my public is mainly women. Who knows, perhaps it is because I usually have heroines." 7. Ashley Lane (date unknown), Lights! Camera! Human perversion! - A personal reaction to Dario Argento's Tenebre, http://www.darkdreams.org/tenebrae_analysis.html (accessed 9 December 2005) 8. Perché Quelle Strane Gocce di Sangue sul Corpo di Jennifer?/The Case of the Bloody Iris, Italy: Giuliano Carnimeo, 1972 9. Una Locertola con la Pelle di Donna/A Lizard in a Woman's Skin, Italy/Spain/France: Lucio Fulci, 1971 10. Thrower, p. 80 11. Michael Sevastakis (24 June 2002), KinoEye: A dangerous mind: Dario Argento's Opera, http://www.kinoeye.org/02/12/sevastakis12.php (accessed 8 December 2005) 12. Adam Knee, "Gender, Genre, Argento", in Barry Keith Grant (ed.), The Dread of Difference (Texas: University of Texas Press, 1996), p. 224 13. Lane, http://www.darkdreams.org/tenebrae_analysis.html 14. Xavier Mendik (24 June 2002), KinoEye: Transgressive drives and traumatic flashbacks: Dario Argento's Tenebre, http://www.kinoeye.org/02/12/mendik12.php (accessed 9 December 2005) 15. Interestingly, though, while Mendik points out that many of Coatti's roles were in exploitation productions which "dwelt on his ambivalent gender", Argento makes no direct reference to this: for all intents and purposes, the character in Tenebre is a woman. This can be seen as further proof of Argento's progressive attitude towards gender, in his willingness to cast a transsexual without directly making an issue of this fact. 16. Frank Burk (10 June 2002), KinoEye: Intimations (and more) of colonialism: Dario Argento's L'Uccello dalle piume di cristallo, http://www.kinoeye.org/02/11/burke11.php (accessed 9 December 2005) 17. I deal specifically with The Bird With the Crystal Plumage and issues of misogyny in my review of the film at http://www.dvdtimes.co.uk/content.php?contentid=59182 18. Dyer, p. 20
BibliographyBoyle, Karen, Media and Violence (London: SAGE Publications, 2005) Dyer, Richard, "Entertainment and Utopia", in Only Entertainment (New York: Routledge, 1992), pp. 18-29 Knee, Adam, "Gender, Genre, Argento", in Grant, Barry Keith (ed.), The Dread of Difference (Texas: University of Texas Press, 1996) Thrower, Stephen, Beyond Terror: The Films of Lucio Fulci, Second Edition (Surrey: FAB Press, 2002)
Online SourcesBurke, Frank (10 June 2002), KinoEye: Intimations (and more) of colonialism: Dario Argento's L'Uccello dalle piume di cristallo, http://www.kinoeye.org/02/11/burke11.php (accessed 9 December 2005) Lane, Ashley (date unknown), Lights! Camera! Human perversion! - A personal reaction to Dario Argento's Tenebre, http://www.darkdreams.org/tenebrae_analysis.html (accessed 9 December 2005) Mendik, Xavier (24 June 2002), KinoEye: Transgressive drives and traumatic flashbacks: Dario Argento's Tenebre, http://www.kinoeye.org/02/12/mendik12.php (accessed 9 December 2005) Needham, Gary (10 June 2002), KinoEye: Playing with genre: An introduction to the Italian giallo, http://www.kinoeye.org/02/11/needham11.php (accessed 12 December 2005) Sevastakis, Michael (24 June 2002), KinoEye: A dangerous mind: Dario Argento's Opera, http://www.kinoeye.org/02/12/sevastakis12.php (accessed 8 December 2005)
Films ReferencedUna Locertola con la Pelle di Donna/A Lizard in a Woman's Skin, Italy/Spain/France: Lucio Fulci, 1971 Morte Accarezza a Mezzanotte/Death Walks at Midnight, Italy/Spain: Luciano Ercoli, 1973 Perché Quelle Strane Gocce di Sangue sul Corpo di Jennifer?/The Case of the Bloody Iris, Italy: Giuliano Carnimeo, 1972 Tenebre, Italy: Dario Argento, 1982 L'Uccello Dalle Piume di Cristallo/The Bird With the Crystal Plumage, Italy/West Germany: Dario Argento, 1970
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