HIGH TENSION - BLU-RAY REVIEW

Lamberto Bava’s DEMONS (1985) and its sequel DEMONS 2 (1986) were sizable hits around the world, and based on the strength of his work on those films, Bava was entrusted by Reteitalia’s Silvio Berlusconi to try and deliver the same magic to the small screen. The result was BRIVIDO GIALLO, a series of four pictures with titles that included GRAVEYARD DISTURBANCE (1987), UNTIL DEATH (1988), THE OGRE (1989) and DINNER WITH A VAMPIRE (1989), which were eventually aired on Italian television in 1989 with little to no fanfare. While these above-average tele-films did eventually find an audience through several home video releases around the world (even before their airings on Italian television), their notoriously poor reception didn’t fare well for Bava’s next television series ALTA TENSIONE (a.k.a. HIGH TENSION), which was abruptly dropped from Reteitalia’s broadcast schedule upon completion. Featuring another quartet of films, Severin Films have miraculously resurrected these highly-watchable, and at times gleefully violent pictures on Blu-ray, which should definitely help develop and cement their stature among fans of Italian horror.

 

Based on a story by the mysterious Ira Goldman with a script by the incredibly prolific Dardano Sacchetti, THE PRINCE OF TERROR (1989) is a fitting start to Severin’s box set and a significant entry in the series on account of its neat self-awareness about the erstwhile Italian movie industry. Tomas Arana stars as famed horror director Vincent Omen, who, in keeping with the film’s title, is better known under his egotistical alter-ego, The Prince of Terror. Following a botched day of shooting on his latest opus (“The scene is ridiculous! It sucks!”), he fires his long-established screenwriter Paul Hilary (David Brandon), and much to Paul’s chagrin, he vows to re-write the entire film. Early on, Vincent is interviewed by a plucky reporter (Virginia Bryant) at his favourite golf course where he talks about his work (“I like telling stories about life, and life is full of horror.”) and resolutely insists that he’s “pretty much like everybody else,” despite having a dog named Demon and golf balls labeled 666. Later that night, as he prepares for a dinner party with his wife Betty (Carole Andre) and his daughter Susan (Joyce Pitti), Vincent’s philosophies about making horror films become all-too real when a pair of men invade their home…

 

Helped along by slick and glossy production values, THE PRINCE OF TERROR is essentially yet another variation of the home invasion theme, but Sacchetti’s quirky screenplay also hints at his many real-life disputes with directors such as Dario Argento and Lucio Fulci. As Nathaniel Thompson and Troy Howarth point out in their audio commentary (more on that later), Sacchetti’s career was “tainted with anger, jealousy and resentment” over some of the criticisms directed at his scripts, so this may have been a “fantasy scenario” of sorts for the embittered writer. At any rate, the film adds plenty of fresh ideas to the same old story, which helps keep everything incredibly entertaining. Also, thanks to some strong performances, the generally tense and rather menacing mood is nicely sustained throughout as Vincent and his family try and dissuade their attackers, which allows the wild scenario to stretch its steadily deceptive logic, including several surprises best left unspoiled here, but rest assured, that final twist is a real eye-opener, which viewers won’t soon forget.

 

Although THE PRINCE OF TERROR did receive a belated home video release on Italian VHS, most Italo horror fans (at least in North America) first caught up with this unique picture via awful dubbed-down copies that did the film no favours whatsoever. As with the other titles in this set, TPOT was scanned and restored in 2K from its original camera negative, and the results are quite stunning, which helps bring out all its previously unseen colors and textures. Each film in the set also comes with DTS-HD Master Audio 2.0 mono tracks in both English and Italian, which sound clean and free of any distortion, and in the case of TPOT, it was shot using live sound, so English is by far and away the preferred option. 

 

Given the rather fascinating premise, Severin have commissioned several worthy special features for their disc beginning with an audio commentary with Mondo Digital’s Nathaniel Thompson and So Deadly, So Perverse: 50 Years of Giallo Films (Midnight Marquee Press, 2015) author Troy Howarth in which they enthusiastically discuss its origins including the “playful meta aspect,” the film’s unfortunate release schedule (“The timing was just off.”), and how it packs in a lot of interesting elements into a unique “pressure-cooker dynamic.” They also go over Sacchetti’s “quick and efficient” writing style and his numerous run-ins with directors over the years, which possibly led to this very odd “revenge script.” Naturally, this is another very valuable listen with both men providing plenty of engaging insight into not only TPOT, but Lamberto Bava’s vastly underappreciated television work as well. In The Adventures of Anfri (16m46s), Bava sits down for a talk about his production company Anfri, which he formed with Andrea Piazzesi, their production deal with Reteitalia, his enduring – and important - friendship with Dario Argento and Daria Nicolodi, his desire to shoot in 35mm, his reasons for switching to television, and how he was always “mindful of his father’s teachings.” In We Call Him Maestro (17m52s), Lamberto Bava sits down for another on-camera interview where he discusses said film in greater detail including its “mockery of the horror genre business,” his relationship with Sacchetti, the decision to shoot using live sound, the actors, and the film’s many special effects. 

 

Based upon a short story by Ukrainian-Italian author Giorgio Scerbanenco (1911-1969), Bava’s THE MAN WHO WOULDN’T DIE (1989) marked the first time Lamberto Bava filmed one of the author’s stories. Regarded as one of Italy’s most popular crime/mystery novelists, Scerbanenco’s books have periodically been adapted to the Italian movie screen in such films as Duccio Tessari’s DEATH OCCURRED LAST NIGHT (1970) and Fernando Di Leo’s MILAN CALIBRE 9 (1972), so this was a nice change of pace for the director. Shot in the beautiful seaside towns of Santa Margherita Ligure, Portofino, and Genoa, the story centres on a group of thieves led by Fabrizio (Keith Van Hoven from Lucio Fulci’s THE HOUSE OF CLOCKS [1989]) that have been hired by high-end fence Mme. Janeau (Martine Brochard) to steal several works of fine art from a luxurious palazzo. Everything proceeds smoothly, but when Gianetto (Gino Concari), a hotheaded member of this tight-knit crew, steals a priceless Renoir painting for himself and hides it within the house, further complications arise when he also rapes the bound and gagged housemaid as her husband watches. Thanks to a swift kick in the head from her trussed-up hubby, this reckless scumbag gets his deserved comeuppance, leaving him catatonic and spitting blood. Left for dead, the second half of the film follows the dogged pursuit of the thieves (by someone in a black trench coat and large fedora, no less!) amidst the sordid, shadow realm of the underworld, while Mme. Janeau tries to re-appropriate that missing painting…

 

Part crime actioner and part heist film, THE MAN WHO WOULDN’T DIE is also equal parts giallo, and much like the other Scerbanenco contributions from the previous decade, it’s populated by a number of unscrupulous characters, each firmly believing that the ends justify the means in the realization of their goals; perhaps the most ruthless of all is the elegant and stylishly dressed Mme. Janeau (superbly realized by Euro veteran Martine Brochard), who straddles that twilight zone between the working-class thieves and the über-rich whose obsessions know no limits. Sophisticated enough to avoid most clichés, Bava and long-time editor Daniele Alabiso deliver some fairly tight pacing, and despite a couple of short-comings, including Gianetto’s middling relationship with his concerned girlfriend (Daniela Franchi), which even attempts to instill some rather laughable – but well-intended - social commentary (“When you’re born wrong, it isn’t easy getting right.” Remarks Gianetto.), it makes for an altogether engrossing and satisfying addition to the series, which is further bolstered by another stunning restoration.

 

Extras begin with The Scerbanenco Touch (22m17s), which has Lamberto Bava on hand again to talk about the author, the many recurring themes prevalent in his work, and how this project was originally started by his father Mario. He also praises the aforementioned locations used for the film, as well as his assistant director Ferzan Ozpetek and some of “formidable” actors in the main roles. Utilizing a lengthy archival interview with Dardano Sacchetti where he discusses some of his earlier work, Bava once again chimes in about his thoughts on Sacchetti in Stephen King Italian Style (15m23s) and, despite being friends, admits he always had a “chip on his shoulder.”

 

Taking a decidedly different tack, the third film in Severin’s set accents talkative drama over visual viscera, but SCHOOL OF FEAR (1989) also offers plenty of mounting tension and a dominant tone of unease in this simple enough premise about evil tykes at an upper-crust school. Staying resolutely within the bounds of plausibility, Diana Berti (Alessandra Acciai) arrives at the Giacomo Stuz private school to replace the previous teacher who mysteriously fell to her death on the school grounds. Despite being warmly welcomed by most of the staff, even if for the wrong reasons (“She’s good looking, pretty young and has great legs.”), she begins to sense that something “doesn’t ring true for the way those kids behave in school.” Resentful for poking her nose into their hermetically sealed world of deception and dark games, these kids even resort to digging up former traumas from Diana’s past, but despite all this, even the local cop (Jean Herbert), who ostensibly at least sympathizes with her plight, refuses to believe her, which is further stressed by the film’s final disorienting revelation. 

 

Severely testing the courage of Diana’s convictions to their very core, Alessandra Acciai puts in a wonderful, grounded performance as the terrorized teacher where she is given a lot of breathing room to help develop her character. Penned by Robert Gandus (who also wrote Lamberto Bava’s MACABRE [a.k.a. FROZEN TERROR, 1980], his first – and arguably – best film) with further additions from Sacchetti and Giorgio Stegani, strong writing and performances all-round (including Daria Nicolodi as the school’s headmaster) are further supported by Boswell’s assured score, which compliments the grim narrative without ever overwhelming it. The impressive Livorno locations also add sufficient resonance whose hidden secrets convey a power over not just the kids, but many of its long-term inhabitants. Although boasting very little bloodshed, SCHOOL OF FEAR is quite tense and very compelling and can definitely hold its own alongside some of Lamberto Bava’s best work. 

 

Bava returns for another on-camera interview to discuss SCHOOL OF FEAR in The Tale of Evil Children (18m15s) where he shares his thoughts on kids in horror, how Walt Disney’s BAMBI (1942) “freaked him out” as a child, and how death affects children differently. He also acknowledges his writers and actors with a special mention for Acciai and Nicolodi, the benefits of the Livorno locations, and how they played a part in the origin of his subsequent series FANTAGHIRÒ (a.k.a. THE CAVE OF THE GOLDEN ROSE, 1991-1996). Writer Robert Gandus is interviewed next in Play the Game (9m45s) and firstly discusses his work on MACABRE and Bava’s talent as a director, how SOF was inspired by Alfred Hitchcock’s ROPE (1948), and how it was originally slated to be his directorial debut. Next up, composer Simon Boswell sits down for an interview in When Bava Met Boswell (31m56s) where he declares “all roads lead to Dario Argento when it comes to my Italian film work,” which commences with a discussion about his “fantastic opportunity” to work on Argento’s PHENOMENA (a.k.a. CREEPERS, 1984), and the many future opportunities it created working on “rip-offs and B-movies,” but he is most enthusiastic about his 11-film collaboration with Bava whom he regards as “approachable and polite,” and who let him do his thing without any issues. 

 

As with the other films in this series, seeing EYEWITNESS (1989) again in such an optimal presentation brought about a whole new appreciation for this solid suspense yarn with unavoidable gialli elements. Best known for her roles in Michele Soavi’s STAGE FRIGHT (1987) and THE CHURCH (1988), Barbara Cupisti stars as Elisa, a blind woman who becomes trapped in a shopping mall after some petty shoplifting, but then inadvertently witnesses the brutal murder of a young woman (Loredana Romito) at the hands of the mall’s manager (Alessio Orano). Consequent to his initial mistaken suspicions of Elisa and her friend Karl (Giuseppe Pianviti), Inspector Barker (Stefano Davanzati) enlists the cooperation of Elisa because she can “recognize people by their vibrations,” but when Karl implicates himself by running, he becomes the prime suspect, but the real killer begins covering his tracks to try and keep his true identity incognito, which of course, results in even more murders… 

 

Written by seasoned bigwigs Massimo De Rita and Giorgio Stegani (from a story by Andrea Piazzesi), their script accents plenty of mind games between the polizia and sospetti, as when Elisa knowingly points out a potential suspect (Francesco Casale) from a line-up to help protect her friend Karl or when the killer attempts to sow seeds of suspicion by introducing previously unseen evidence to the police. In the interests of making headway with his investigation, Barker also resorts to several instances of sly manipulation during his budding relationship with Elisa (“If you can’t see me, feel me.”) and uses her without a moment’s notice whenever required. As Elisa, Cupisti is wonderful as the prime, if blind, suspect whose initial naïveté quickly supplants that of Barker as the real brains of the investigation, and who also isn’t afraid to use her body to entice and influence the Inspector, even as he and his partner (a solid turn from ex-pat Mary Sellers, who also appeared in STAGE FRIGHT) must wade through a maze of false leads. As the sufficiently intimidating killer, Alessio Orano, who also appeared in papa Bava’s LISA AND THE DEVIL (1972), also relishes his part as the cold-blooded and reprehensible scuzzbag, whose vile nature contributes significantly to the film’s general nastiness, a throwback of sorts to the trashy Italo ’70s spirit, which is further capped off by the film’s unforgettable ending. 

 

Once again, Severin’s new 2K restoration vastly improves on any and all previous bootleg copies and wonky TV broadcasts drawing attention to DP Gianfranco Transunto’s (he also photographed the previous three segments in this series) strong visual aesthetic with an image so crisp, colourful and detailed, it’s sure to amaze viewers at just how good this new restoration looks, which helps further support the film’s immersive atmosphere. 

 

For the last film in this set, Severin have once again provided an impressive array of special features beginning with an audio commentary from returning Italo film experts Nathaniel Thompson and Troy Howarth where they offer in-depth observations into this “visually fascinating” film including some of its shocking “sexual assault aspects,” how Bava “tests the boundaries of what a giallo is” and how it “plays a lot of tribute to other gialli,” the film’s interesting score and many “over-lapping cues,” the distinctive quality of each segment of the series, and contributions about most of the cast and crew in what is another standout listen and valuable addition to this set. 

 

In the appropriately-titled The Last Giallo (15m42s), Lamberto Bava sits down for his final interview in this set, which has him going over said film’s beginnings with an emphasis on De Rita’s working methods (“He wrote everything by hand, with pen and pencil.”), and De Rita’s enduring friendship with his father Mario Bava. Next up, the lovely Barbara Cupisti is interviewed in Love is Blind (12m26s) where she reminiscences about the first-time she met Michele Soavi at an audition and their subsequent relationship, her first role in Lucio Fulci’s THE NEW YORK RIPPER (1982), her time working with Lamberto and the “great care and focus” she put into her role. 

In what is an already stacked set, Severin also includes a Bava / Boswell Compilation CD (15 tracks, 43m41s) of several previously unreleased tracks, which only sweetens this already pivotal – and must-have - collection of criminally-neglected TV terrors. Highly recommended! 

THE SOULTANGLER - BLU-RAY REVIEW

For this exceedingly low-budget if ambitious splatterfest, director Pat Bishow’s main inspiration was to create something “different”, right down to the film’s, um, colourful title. For all its faults though, THE SOULTANGLER (1987) remains one of the more engaging D.I.Y. ’80s horror films, which was recently released on Blu-ray thanks to Bleeding Skull Video.

Dr. Anton Lupesky (Pierre Deveaux) has developed a new drug called Anphorium, which somehow allows people to transfer their souls into “any human corpse, provided it has eyes”; since the eyes are the window to the soul, as it’s said, this kinda makes sense in a way. However, his drug also affects the person’s nerve centers, causing vivid and highly horrific hallucinations. Thus Dr. Lupesky, has his assistants Carl (Bob Cederberg) and Jessica (Louise Millman) abduct females (“Women are everywhere on the streets these days!”), so he can continue his unorthodox experiments down in the dingy, gore-strewn basement which doubles as his laboratory. Meanwhile, in hopes of uncovering the truth about her father’s death, a feisty, chain-smoking reporter named Kim (Jamie Kinser) begins looking into Lupesky’s work…

 

Made by Bishow’s family and friends over a week-long period in Long Island, New York in 1985, THE SOULTANGLER is certainly one of the more offbeat – and at one point elusively hard-to-see – “homemade” movies to emerge out of the ’80s. However, for all its innate liveliness and grandiose ideas, it’s also padded with countless scenes of characters walking and driving from one location to another or simply sitting in offices, which achieves a rather strange, almost hypnotic quality in-between its horrific highlights. Drawn-out and disorienting, the film’s primary intention still remains depicting lots of bloody splatter, and like Stuart Gordon’s RE-ANIMATOR (1985), the film it most closely resembles thematically speaking, much of it is reserved for the gore-soaked finale, which features plenty of enthusiastic – and effective – blood-spattering F/X work, including decapitations, resurrected zombies, pulsating headless brains (with their eyes still attached, no less!), and one poor schmoe getting strangulated by a zombie’s dangling intestines.

 

Shot in 16mm and later edited on video, Bleeding Skull’s fully-loaded Blu-ray is a solid upgrade from AGFA’s earlier 2018 DVD, which was transferred and restored from the original 1-inch master tapes, and the results are about what you’d expect from such a hand-to-mouth endeavour. The DTS-HD Master Audio 2.0 mono audio is also free of both distortion or an overabundance of hiss, with HypnoLoveWheel (i.e., Jim Cook, Griffin Dickerman and Chris Xefos)’s decent electronic score sounding just fine. Unlike Mondo’s / AGFA’s earlier retro big-box VHS edition from 2014 or the once even-harder-to-find Canadian VHS from Astral Video (circa, 1992), which housed the standard (89m42s) edition of the film, Bleeding Skull have once again included the “previously unseen 62-minute director’s cut”, which, despite its shorter running time, plays far more effectively. In director Pat Bishow’s feature-length audio commentary, he goes on to discuss how the distributor forced him to “pad it out to 90-minutes” because it was simply too short. So, much to his dismay, using previously discarded takes and extra footage, Bishow went on to explain Anphorium and also add all those unnecessary filler scenes of people walking and driving, which he equates to “torture”. He also goes on to talk about the trials of shooting a low-budget film such as this, as well as discussing many of the Long Island locations (including that filthy basement!), and how much of it was “done on the fly,” plus he also mentions the uncooperative nature of Kinser, who “wasn’t very nice.” While Bishow begins his commentary by exclaiming “I can’t believe anybody is actually listening to this!” he goes on to fill the 90 minutes with ease. Other extras include The Making of The Soultangler (12m13s), with plentiful behind-the-scenes footage shot in May of 1985, the film’s original video trailer (“From every corner emerges total terror!”), still another video trailer from Bishow’s earlier film, THE DEAD OF NIGHT TOWN (1983), and a music video shot by Bishow for HypnoLoveWheel’s “Wow!” (2m56s). In addition to including new – and wholly appropriate – cover art by Matt “Putrid” Carr, the disc also comes with reversible art featuring the film’s very rare Canadian VHS release. 

 

As an added, much welcome bonus, Bleeding Skull’s new Blu-ray also includes Bishow’s seldom-seen IT’S A HAUNTED HAPPENIN’! (2002), an SOV monster-mash musical comedy obviously inspired by the animated Hanna-Barbera series JOSIE AND THE PUSSYCATS (1970-1971). An all-female rock group (led by Jaime Andrews), who are called The Soultanglers (’natch), end up at a haunted house where Dr. Valerius is conducting experiments with his sidekick Gomar (Andrew Roussin) is his colourfully festooned laboratory. While not exactly the most hilarious film, it’s whimsical enough to enjoy as a homage to monster movies, which also includes a rampaging mummy, a gorilla, and plenty of musical interludes that provide a momentary oasis during some of the film’s slow parts, at least. Once again Bishow returns for another easy-going audio commentary, this time with co-writer Jon Sanborne, which is once again jam-packed about the ins-and-outs of low-budget filmmaking, their many influences and a particular fondness for “those old dubbed Mexican horror movies,” some of the initial music rights issues they faced, details on all of the music and bands used in the film, the public access show Ghoul-A-Go-Go, the Scooby Doo inspired ending, and all of their friends and family that also appeared in the film. 

 

Shot for peanuts, THE SOULTANGLER still emerges as a diverting no-mind horror cheapie, and still way easier to take than most other ’80s D.I.Y. or SOV films. 

EVA MAN - BLU-RAY REVIEW

Essentially a vehicle customized to the talents of transgender ‘superstar’ Eva Robin’s, who is probably best remembered for her brief, but integral role in Dario Argento’s TENEBRE (1982), Antonio D’Agostino’s EVA MAN (1980) and it’s rarely-seen sequel THE RETURN OF EVA MAN (1982), which is also included on this disc, are a pair of highly-enjoyable and very likeable films, which also proudly boast fellow trans icon Ajita Wilson among its small but dedicated cadre of actors. Considering their still topical content, which happily promote transgender inclusivity, it’s hardly surprising these films found few exhibitors in the English-speaking world upon their initial release, and for that alone, Mondo Macabro should be commended for distributing these rather remarkable Eurotrash oddities on Blu-ray. 

Alongside a surfeit of flashing lights and iridescent bubbles (!), the film’s playfully infectious tone is evident right from the get go with Eva (Eva Robin’s, herein credited as Eva Coatti) performing a lively dance number set to Alessandro Alessandroni’s giddy, disco-infused One Sunday Morning. Occasionally mimicking a ’60s-style Eurospy flick and a ’70s white-coater, EVA MAN follows the exploits of Eva, the frequently nude and “most beautiful hermaphroditic specimen in the world.” Through a variety of sexual experiments at an impoverished Kinsey-like institute, a fatherly professor (Attilio Dottesio) has implanted a tiny sexual stimulator called a “sexmaker” in Eva’s crotch (which she can control through a specially made ring) to help develop the male and female stimuli and make her a “perfect complete being.” When Eva’s friend Ajita (Ajita Wilson), who also happens to have a doctor’s thesis in medicine (“I’m an expert. Show me what you got!”), visits the professor, further tests are conducted when Eva makes love to Ajita while the professor carefully observes. Meanwhile, an impotent criminal magnate (Ramón Centenero), also wants to get his hands on this one-of-a-kind sexmaker in order to satisfy his sexually voracious wife (Sara Mora), so he dispatches a couple of bumbling goons to kidnap Eva, but in their stupidity, they accidentally abduct the professor’s maid Cristina (Vanna Napolitano, herein credited as ‘Renata Napolitano’ who is perhaps known as ‘Annj Goren’, unsung actor of many a Joe D’Amato film) who obviously doesn’t have a “thingy.” Mostly taking a backseat to goofball shenanigans and lots of simulated sex, the somewhat messy scenario also culminates in further kidnappings, castration threats, and a sloppily orchestrated kung fu punch-up with Super Eva doing lots of flying ’fu leaps.

 

Although basically a smaller-scale retread of the innumerable sex comedies of the ’70s laid atop a sex film chassis, the real attention grabber is the added bonus of a meatier-than-usual part for trans actor Robin’s. Despite the flimsiest of plots, Robin’s gives an entertaining and occasionally over-the-top performance, who isn’t afraid to flaunt her “something extra,” including several full-frontal underwater shots whenever she takes a dip in the professor’s luxurious outdoor pool, which is often. Although respectful of trans rights, an occasional geek show quality still permeates the film, which also includes a barrage of jokes that some may find foolish and distasteful, but for the most part, it’s too good-natured to take anything very seriously. For the film’s epilogue, Eva even performs her hit song ‘Disco Panther’ in a white sequined jump suit while her friends excitedly look on. A fitting conclusion to this breezy sex comedy, indeed. 

Made back-to-back with EVA MAN, D’Agostino’s fare more elusive THE RETURN OF EVA MAN features much of the same basic ridiculousness, although classifying them as two separate films is certainly a bit of a stretch. Released to Spanish cinemas with the fitting title of LA PITOCONEJO (‘The Cockp**sy’) and credited to Spanish director Zacarías Urbiola Salinas for tax purposes, both Eva and Ajita return once again as does Attilio Dottesio as the wise, philosophical surgeon (now called Dr. Pissinger) who this time devises a “love-gun” (“Better than an aphrodisiac!”) that can instantly unleash a person’s sexual hungers, which he believes could potentially save the world. However, when General Pepper (Centenaro), an excitable megalomaniacal militarist who is obsessed with fantasies of global conquest, gets wind of this of this new contraption, he decides it would be a perfect weapon to help distract the local populace and then overthrow the government. 

 

Although only the closing dance number from EVA MAN seems to have been recycled here (which is this time placed at the start of the film), all of the supporting cast members also return, albeit in different roles, which definitely causes some initial confusion in this machinegun barrage of lovable stupidity. Once again brimming with skin, and plenty of lowbrow humour (“You’ve got a lot of hair down there! It’s like a jungle!”) sure to displease some viewers, the film also contains, for no apparent reason, a patently ridiculous yellowface character named Genghis Khan complete with a Fu Manchu-styled mustache, who even engages in a bout of stick-fighting, which goes beyond the mere surreal and into absolute unreality. And just like Wonder Woman, Super Eva battles with General Pepper’s henchman (“No kicks in the ass!”) in the grand finale alongside a cacophony of cheesy sound effects and canned kung-fu-styled music in this irresistibly daft confection. 

 

Outside of a handful of European VHS releases, which, much to D’Agostino’s displeasure, usually included the heavily-altered hardcore version of the film, which completely destroyed its unique carefree qualities, EVA MAN also showed up on French-Canadian VHS as AMBI-SEX in the same bastardized variant. Thankfully, Mondo Macabro have included the original Spanish language versions of both films (minus all the intrusive and painfully mismatched hardcore scenes) on their fully-stacked disc, and in the case of EVA MAN, it’s a substantial improvement over its analog releases. Retaining their original 1.85:1 widescreen framing, both films feature new 2K restorations that look clean, bright, and colorful (the exterior scenes around the pool look especially vibrant), which greatly enhance their very modest production values and Hans Burmann’s rather functional camerawork. The DTS-HD Master Audio 2.0 Spanish mono on both films also sound fine, and are both nicely supported by several CAM library tracks from composer Alessandro Alessandroni including a couple of noticeable cues from Joe D’Amato’s PORNO EXOTIC LOVE (1980).

 

As usual, MM offers up a wealth of interesting special features beginning with an audio commentary with Caden Mark Gardner and Willow Catelyn Maclay, co-authors of Corpses, Fools and Monsters: The History and Future of Transness in Cinema (Repeater, 2024) who go over this “remarkable document” and its “multi-talented superstar” Eva Robin’s. They go on to provide plenty of insightful context on the film itself while also realizing its highly satirical nature, its ability not to shame the audience and its liberating aspects. They also discuss Robin’s’ overall career including her roles in Luigi Cozzi’s two HERCULES movies as well as some of the “fetishism endemic to this time period of filmmaking.” Having more admiration for the film than Jacques Audiard’s recent Oscar-winner EMILIA PÉREZ (2024), they fully admit that EVA MAN does sound like a “carnival sideshow on paper,” but they love its “cotton candy airy quality” and “independent spirit” just the same. Like the film itself, their commentary is a rather jovial listen, which also manages to help generate a better appreciation of its two trans actors, and the film’s very oddball charms. 

 

In what is perhaps the most welcome extra on the entire disc is All About Eva (21m16s), an on-camera interview with Eva Robin’s herself who goes over the start of her career as a backing vocalist, her screen debut in D’Agostino’s directorial debut CEREMONY OF THE SENSES (1979) where she revealed her “body’s surprises” and her very revealing role in EVA MAN (“Not exactly suitable for convent school girls!”) of which she is both “ashamed and proud.” She also discusses her warm relationship with Ajita Wilson, her “avant-garde” director, the film’s Italian-shot locations at actor Giorgio Ardisson’s house, and the painful muscle cramps she experienced during her fight scenes. Next up, D’Agostino aficionado and expert Ian Higbee provides a thorough examination of D’Agostino’s fascinating career in his visual essay Chiaro e Scuro: The Double Life of Antonio D’Agostino (20m14s). Utilizing lots of photos of the director’s art pieces, and rare film clips from some of his more audacious adult films and experimental works, there is a lot to appreciate here thanks to Higbee’s superb-research and keen enthusiasm. In the equally absorbing Solving the Ajita Wilson Mystery (47m58s), film historian Alex Mendíbil attempts to get the record straight about Wilson’s life and career, which has been littered with “false information, legends and rumours.” From early roles in Cesare Canevari’s THE NUDE PRINCESS (1975) and Guido Zurli’s BLACK DEEP THROAT (1977), most of her films merely “exploited her statuesque and exotic body but nothing else,” which kept her busy working in Greece, Italy, and Spain where she also caught the attention of maverick filmmaker Jess Franco, which led to further roles in other Clasificada “S” films such as Carlos Aured’s SEX APOCALYPSE (1982). 

 

The disc is further boosted with an on-camera interview with DP Hans Burmann (22m42s) who talks about his lifelong career in film and the naturalistic approach of his work (“I didn’t do strange things.”), and while he doesn’t discuss said film very much, he does acknowledge that he put all his “enthusiasm into it, but it didn’t really show.” In Echoes of Eva(11m16s), sound technician Luciano Muratori speaks about his time working on low-budget productions with production manager Ennio Onorati and Eva Robin’s’ first on-set nude scene (“Seeing Eva was surprising!”). Other extras include METAMORFOSI (13m20s), one of D’Agostino’s latter-day performance art pieces, and EVA MAN’s alternate Spanish ending, which eliminates Eva’s Disco Panther dance number. As usual, MM’s Limited Red Case Edition also includes a set of art cards, and a nicely-illustrated 24-page liner notes booklet with a comprehensive essay by Ismael Fernandez, who also has plenty to say about this pair of silly, yet unmistakably rebellious and fearless exploitation films, which, like Mondo Macabro itself, are in a class by themselves. 

FORGOTTEN GIALLI - VOLUME 8 - BLU-RAY REVIEW

While Vinegar Syndrome’s previous FORGOTTEN GIALLI box set presented a new, refreshing angle on the usual Italian thrillers with a distinctly different, modernized spin on the genre, this latest collection focuses on a trio of obscurities (two of which have never been on disc) that draw heavily on the usual convoluted plotlines of ulterior motives and plenty of sordid and violent underpinnings. To say these were some of the best films the genre had to offer would be damning praise, but despite their obvious low-budgets, they include some engaging principal performances, several shamelessly trashy set-ups, and a whole shoal of red herrings, which are all made extra watchable thanks to VS’s newly-minted restorations.

Often referred to as the third film in the loosely-connected “schoolgirls in peril” trilogy initiated by Massimo Dallamano’s WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO SOLANGE? (1971) and his follow-up WHAT HAVE THEY DONE TO YOUR DAUGHTERS? (1974), Alberto Negrin’s RINGS OF FEAR (1978) likewise possesses a similarly skeevy feel, but unfortunately, it also lacks the elegance of the first film or the poliziesco-styled vitality of the second. Given the time period in which it was made, Negrin’s film avoids the glossy, stylized sheen of other ’70s Euro thrillers in favour of a grittier coarseness more in common with titles that include THE SISTER OF URSULA (1978) or GIALLO IN VENICE (1979), and even though the basic material and ideas are potent enough to prompt the feeling that the makings of an excellent film are in there somewhere, it’s far from having been released. When asked about this troubled production in the first issue of the Canadian ’zine Tame (Steve Fenton & Michael Ferguson, 1993), co-star Jack Taylor insisted that “it was never finished, and so they just took bits and pieces of it and… it was a dreadful experience!”, which goes a long way to explain the rather haphazard results, even if, the final product still remains infinitely entertaining. 

 

Following much the same pattern as the series’ previous entries, RINGS OF FEAR begins in suitably cruel fashion when the body of a murdered teenager named Angela Russo is found floating in a river with her belly horribly mutilated. Gianni Di Salvo (Fabio Testi) is assigned to the case and soon learns that the girl had been “torn open by an instrument that was anything but sharp” or “a cock THIS big!” as Di Salvo puts it in no uncertain terms. As he weaves his way through several potential suspects including Michael Parraviccini (Taylor), owner of the Feline Jeans boutique, his suspicions soon lean towards St. Teresa’s School for Girls, a highbrow academy for socially privileged young women, which also conceals several dark secrets…

 

In view of the film’s grim subject matter, it should come as no surprise that a perverse ambiance predominates much of the running time with an accent placed upon the sordid gutter-level procurement of under-age prostitution. With its expected barrage of gratuitous female nudity, which includes full-frontal shower scenes, an extended orgy sequence, and a visit to a sleazy back alley abortionist, RINGS OF FEAR is definitely more in touch with the pornographic side of Italian films from that era. Among its squalid succession of situations and characters, further allusions to political skullduggery and corruption also make their way into the convoluted script, which isn’t all that surprising given that six (!) different writers receive onscreen credit. Alongside some striking visual moments including a hauntingly-lit nun statue, which overlooks the ‘sacred’ halls of the academy, and a possible homage to Mario Bava’s FIVE DOLLS FOR AN AUGUST MOON (1970), Negrin’s film also incorporates several much-welcome Eurocrime staples into its mix including an energetic foot and motorcycle chase, and one of the more bizarre – and certainly memorable - interrogation scenes, which is set on an old rickety rollercoaster! Further accentuating its crime film roots, Riz Ortolani’s strident jazzy themes are swiped entirely from Dallamano’s earlier poliziesco hybrid SUPERBITCH (1973), while leading man Fabio Testi, who usually appeared in Italocrime films of reliably competent quality such as Tonino Valerii’s GO, GORILLA, GO! (1975) often refers to his partner as ‘Starsky.’ In what is easily one of the film’s strongest assets, Testi gives a highly credible performance as the tough-talking commissario who must navigate through all of the film’s rattlesnake twists and turns, which, despite its general incoherence, still manages to pack a powerful punch with its kick-in-your-face third act and ingenious plot twist. 

 

Most viewers in the U.S. and Canada of a certain age probably discovered this slice of Italo-sleaze during the video rental boom via Wizard Video’s big box VHS and Beta videocassettes. Re-titled TRAUMA for the home video market, Wizard’s tape contained a poorly-cropped edition of the film, which made a real mess out of Eduardo Noé’s and Carlo Carlini’s scope photography. In the early ’90s, Canadian VHS outfit Lettuce Entertain You released a similar middling transfer under its British title VIRGIN TERROR (“Terror runs wild at the academy for girls.”), which also did the film no favours. Outside of an English-friendly German DVD from Eyecatcher Movies (circa 2008), the film bypassed DVD altogether in North America (the less said about Full Moon’s VHS-ripped Grindhouse Collection DVD from 2013, the better), but in 2018, it made its HD debut thanks to the late Walt Olsen’s Scorpion Releasing in what was a very pleasing restoration. Suffering from some occasional scratches and imperfections, this was easily the best-looking edition up to that point, which also included both English and Italian DTS-HD Master Audio 2.0 mono audio options (the latter with English subtitles) and an entertaining audio commentary from Mondo Digital’s Nathaniel Thompson wherein he has plenty to say about the film’s troubled production history, the interesting cast and crew, and the film’s many odd touches and obvious faults, but also freely admits that it does improve with repeated viewings.

 

“Newly scanned and restored in 2K from a 35mm blow-up CRI (color reversal intermediate),” the most recent Blu-ray of RINGS OF FEAR (which contains the film’s original Italian title ENIGMA ROSSO) appears more naturalistic in terms of its overall colour scheme as opposed to Scorpion’s earlier Blu, which leaned towards slightly pinkish skin tones; while certainly not perfect, this is a solid upgrade. Once again, both English and Italian DTS-HD Master Audio 2.0 mono audio options (the latter with newly translated English subtitles) are included and sound fine given the film’s troubled production history with Ortolani’s brassy score dominating much of the soundscape.

 

The extensive special features begin with another in a long line of wonderful audio commentaries from returning authors and Italian cinema whizzes Nathaniel (Frightfest Guide to Vampire Movies) Thompson, Troy (So Deadly, So Perverse: 50 Years of Italian Giallo Films) Howarth and Eugenio (Darkening the Italian Screen) Ercolani, all of who have plenty to say about the film’s “complicated history and genesis”, the large group of screenwriters attached to the production that even includes future Dario Argento collaborator, and one-time director of SWEETS FOR A STRANGER (1987) Franco Ferrini, Alberto Negrin’s lengthy career on Italian television (he considers the film in question “the lowest point of his career”), the “sleazy porno vibe” and the decline in production of gialli by the late ’70s, the film’s many “sketchy” home video releases, and several of the inconsequential parts that turn up in the film such as Helga Liné, Tony Isbert, “Waldemar Wohlfahrt”, and Christine Kaufmann, whose role herein is nothing more than an extended cameo, despite receiving second billing. Not only do they provide a ton of information related to the film and its production woes, but their discussion also helps viewers deepen their appreciation for this “rough around the edges” picture.

 

Unlike Scorpion’s earlier Blu, Vinegar Syndrome have included a ton of informative featurettes, which not only shed light on the film itself but director Alberto Negrin’s vast television career as well. Beginning with From Big Screen Scares to Small Screen Epics (23m31s) Negrin goes over the evolution of his career starting with his early work as an assistant director, his eventual involvement with RINGS OF FEAR, and all the frustration and disappointment that came with the job. For the rest of the interview, he seems more eager to talk about his extensive work in television on such prestigious projects like his 7-part miniseries SECRET OF THE SAHARA (1988), which, given how little is known about this facet of Italian film, is all quite fascinating. In Deep Red Rings (26m22s), screenwriter Franco Ferrini also discusses his time on the project who recalls he was hired as a sort of script doctor, and had minimal participation with Massimo Dallamano. While not having too much to say about the film itself, Ferrini goes on to talk about his time working with Dario Argento on both PHENOMENA (1984) and OPERA (1987). Fabio Testi is interviewed next in The Red Thread (25m33s) wherein he discusses his lengthy, genre-hopping career, which also includes his time working on said film, his relationship with both Dallamano and Negrin, the film’s much-talked about production issues, his co-stars, and his other collaborations with Negrin. In the amusingly titled Cecil B. Negrin (13m51s), the director gives further insight into his vast television career and the eventual downfall of the industry itself.

 

Moving on to the second film in this box set, director Tano Cimarosa’s REFLECTIONS IN BLACK (1975) was always regarded as a routinely B-grade programmer of little real distinction, but given the film’s poor presentation on home video over the years (in usually badly-cropped and edited VHS copies from either Greece or Holland), it’s no wonder this film was best left forgotten. That said, Vinegar Syndrome’s new restoration should definitely help improve its standing, and allow viewers to better appreciate the film’s undeniable virtues. 

 

After a promising opener showing the brutal, drawn-out murder of a young woman (Daniela Giordano) at the hands of a black-gloved killer, this unabashed, attention-grabbing scene is quickly supplanted by the more mundane police procedural settings, which seem to hamper most gialli of the period. Director Cimarosa – who also stars in the film – plays Pantò, an unshaven working-class cop with an over-confident grin and manner that makes people uncomfortable (“C’mon, that’s a load of balls!”), and whose character has more in common with the many loose-triggered commissarios from any number of polizieschi. British born John Richardson on the other hand plays Inspector Lavina, a well-groomed, budding intellectual whose high moral pedestal (“Only a crazy nut could have done a thing like this!”) is in direct contrast to Pantò’s everyday cop, which not only adds an interesting interplay between the two men, but helps generate some much-needed chemistry into the film’s many talky passages. 

 

Having scoured the entire area surrounding the scene of the crime, Pantò quickly deduces that “the broad was killed with a razor”, and it soon develops the young woman was also “making a living pulling down her panties”, but when Emma Giorgi (Giovanna D’Albore) is murdered soon afterwards, it quickly emerges that the two victims were connected through a trendy, high-priced hair salon run by Mario (Giovanni Brusatori). Determined to solve the case, they track down many of the girls’ acquaintances that frequented this haughty establishment, which includes minor-league drug pusher Sandro (Ninetto Davoli) and his girlfriend Marilyn (Dada Gallotti), as well as Leonora Anselmi (Dagmar Lassander) whose respected lawyer husband (Giacomo Rossi-Stuart) also has ties to the decadent and highly-influential Countess Orselmo (Magda Konopka), which ultimately requires our detectives to try and solve the case without causing any political waves…

 

Cimarosa is perhaps best known to most Eurocult fans for appearing in a number of films for director Damiano Damiani including THE DAY OF THE OWL (1968), THE MOST BEAUTIFUL WIFE (1970) and A MAN ON HIS KNEES (1977), three of the director’s most impressive mafia pictures, where Cimarosa gets to demonstrate his acting chops alongside big-name stars like Franco Nero and Giuliano Gemma. That said, it becomes readily apparent this charismatic actor is far more comfortable in front of the camera than behind it. As revealed in Rachael Nisbet’s audio commentary included on this disc, Cimarosa “sought help from his friend” Gianni Siragusa, who directed most, if not all of the picture. Even as the body count begins to pile up, the director(s) laissez-faire approach to the material neglects to realize the genre’s proper stylistic potential, and while the film does feature several gruesome murders and carelessly exposed breasts, very little suspense is generated outside of these few scenes. Numerous subplots are briefly alighted upon, only to have the director (or was this the choice of editor Romeo Ciatti?) whisk us away to another character or situation, which also includes a subordinate inspector named Manlio (Gianni Williams) and his inquisitive girlfriend (Ursula Davis, herein credited as Pier Anna Quaia) who also attempts to curtail the murders herself, even as Manlio jokingly suggests to “keep her impulses to the bedroom and supermarket!” While there are certainly more memorable gialli, REFLECTIONS IN BLACK does still provide all the requisite whodunit tropes (including a languid but no less effective Carlo Savina score), and it’s always enjoyable watching the relatively game cast do their earnest if bored-looking best while trying to untangle this undercooked spaghetti knot of trailing plot strands. 

 

Finally retaining the film’s original 2.35:1 aspect ratio, which does wonders with Marcello Masciocchi’s functional widescreen photography, this new 2K restoration taken from the “35mm Italian copyright deposit print” remains fairly consistent and offers a more textured, colourful presentation. Given the source print, some scratches, dirt and finite damage is present, but doesn’t distract from one’s enjoyment of the film, especially when compared to the many grey-market bootlegs that came before it. DTS-HD Master Audio 2.0 mono audio options are provided in both Italian (with newly translated English subtitles) and English, and while the latter frequently switches to Italian (with English subtitles, ‘natch!) substituting scenes never dubbed into English, it’s always nice to hear familiar voice talent such as Edward Mannix (who provides a hilarious Brooklyn-styled accent for Cimarosa) and Carolyn De Fonseca. As expected, the film’s rather meagre sound design doesn’t push boundaries, but everything sounds just fine for a low-budget Italian exploitation film with Carlo Savina’s score adding plenty of atmosphere and energy to the various murder and travelogue sequences.

 

Considering the film’s obscurity, VS still manages to deliver several noteworthy special features beginning with another detailed audio commentary, this time from film historian and critic Rachael Nisbet wherein she discusses the influence of Dario Argento and how the “giallo formula persisted” over the years, even among low-budget films such as this with its “classic beats and visual hallmarks.” Of course, she also goes over the film’s genesis, how actor Tano Cimarosa stepped into the director’s chair, the film’s stylistic choices, its modest budget, the large cast and crew, the film’s costuming, the rather unusual seaside location, it’s numerous sub-par VHS versions, and the film’s many faults, which certainly warrant it as a “forgotten giallo.” Equally entertaining and informative, Nisbet’s commentary offers up plenty of valuable historical context, while remaining thoughtful and focused throughout. In Eugenio Ercolani’s featurette Reflections on Cimarosa (28m52s), Cimarosa biographer Domenico Monetti offers up a loving tribute to the “legendary character actor of Italian cinema” whose career is discussed at length beginning with his time in Sicily doing puppet shows and travelling theatre, his early work with director Oreste Palella, his breakout role in Damiani’s aforementioned THE DAY OF THE OWL where he recited his lines in Sicilian “in a totally brilliant way,” his skills at improv, and his eventual directorial efforts, which of course includes REFLECTIONS IN BLACK as well as NO ALLA VIOLENZA (a.k.a. DEATH HUNT, 1977), and his little-seen mafia picture UOMINI DI PAROLA(1978). The extras conclude with a brief look at the Footage Unique to the Export Versions (7m38s), which are a number of extended nude scenes sourced from videotape. 

 

Doomed to obscurity for decades, the last film included in this set comes from Demofilo Fidani, a director that has become inseparably identified with helming several enjoyable, but cheaply-produced spaghetti westerns that include such colourful titles as DJANGO AND SARTANA’S SHOWDOWN IN THE WEST (1970) and DEAD MEN DON’T MAKE SHADOWS (1971), which usually starred American ex-pat Jack Betts under his usual alias of Hunt Powers. This time, Mr. Betts relinquishes his six-shooter and Stetson hat and appears alongside a bevy of other Fidani repertory players in A.A.A. MASSEUSE, GOOD-LOOKING, OFFERS HER SERVICES… (1972), Fidani’s first and only giallo. 

 

When Cristina (Paola Senatore) decides to move away from home, her youthful idealistic exuberance is immediately questioned by her mother (Yvonne Sanson), who worries that she is simply leaving home to spite her stern father, Enrico (“Hunt Powers” / Jack Betts). After moving in with her friend Paola (Fidani’s real-life daughter “Simone Blondell” / Simonetta Vitelli), she quickly finds work as a “masseuse” (i.e., prostitute), partly as a result of complacency and the easy money the job brings. She eventually meets Oskar (“Howard Ross” / Renato Rossini), a smooth-talking pimp who coerces her to work for him (“You’re a good product, but the packaging is all wrong.”) with the promise of meeting several influential clients, but soon thereafter, Cristina’s pervy johns get bumped-off by a shadowy figure in a black fedora and yellow gloves…

 

Despite its lengthy run-on title, which does embrace similar Italo thrillers of the period (i.e., Alfonso Bresica’s RAGAZZA TUTTA NUDA ASSASSINATA NEL PARCO / NAKED GIRL KILLED IN THE PARK [1972]), Fidani’s film is probably more befitting of a softcore sex film. And while it does indeed incorporate several gialli elements into its narrative, Fidani and his wife Mila Vitelli (who also co-scripted) seem more interested to explore its themes of resistance to tradition and the patriarchal structures in Italy at the time. Whether Cristina is seeking freedom from her controlling father or her love-sick boyfriend (Raffaele Curi), or even fending off the violent impulses of her pimp (“You’re not like the others. You need a good slap!”), Cristina expertly navigates this suffocating male-dominated world using her intellect (“You even use it too much!” Remarks Oskar in a typically chauvinist barb.), even as she apathetically resigns herself to the whims of her clientele’s “refined tastes.” As played by ’70s softcore sensation Senatore, she provides a richness to her strong-willed character and emotes both beauty and vulnerability as the blooming girl-next-door in search of a few kicks and some fast cash (“Without money, you’re nobody.”), but as stressed in the film’s final unexpectedly poignant revelation, after all is said and done, she is left with nothing more than bittersweet memories.

 

Much like his westerns, Fidani once again rounds up a stellar supporting cast that includes future ’80s action star Giancarlo Prete (a.k.a. Timothy Brent), seasoned actor Ettore Manni as the obligatory commissario (“I’m going to nail him, even if it means stepping on some toes!”), and of course, Howard Ross as the consummately obnoxious misogynist with a conceited smirk, all of who add tremendously to the pulpy narrative. Together with Coriolano “Lallo” Gori’s highly-diverse score, which switches fluently between brassy horn sections, some solid chugalong funk with rock guitar riffs and more traditional suspense cues, Fidani’s whodunit also seems uncertain as to whether it’s a sexploitation pic, a giallo or perhaps an overwrought socially aware drama, but whichever you choose, it’s a solidly entertaining picture that shall arguably remain Fidani’s finest moment as a director.

 

Never earning a home video release of any kind, nothing but praise should be given to Vinegar Syndrome’s impressive Blu-ray. As quoted on the packaging, it has been “newly scanned and restored in 2K from its original camera negative” and the results are stunning to say the least. Preserving the film’s intended 2.35:1 widescreen framing (which was cropped to 1.85:1 on the various online copies), details are very well-defined in the shadowy murder sequences, whereas the film’s colourful set design and brightly lit Roman exteriors highlight notable depth in the image. The DTS-HD Master Audio 2.0 Italian mono is also clean and free of any noticeable issues. 

 

Both Troy Howarth and Eugenio Ercolani return for another superb audio commentary wherein they discuss the idiosyncratic Fidani, his family and dedicated associates, and the film itself to the fullest extent possible. Working with very small budgets, both agree that Fidani’s giallo is “quite competent” even if it does focus more on “the sleazy side of things.” The two of them also go into the “lazy attitude” of some film scholars who lump all genre directors into “one big cauldron” whereas they compare Fidani to similar directors working with limited means such as Renato Polselli and Luigi Batzella. Other topics discussed include Lallo Gori’s diverse score and some of its recycled cues including one from Mario Bava’s FOUR TIMES THAT NIGHT (1969), Fidani’s partner Mila Vitelli who was a “vital figure” within his cinematic universe, the success and influence of Dario Argento’s THE BIRD WITH THE CRYSTAL PLUMAGE (1970), even if Fidani’s film was not a “run-of-the-mill rip-off”, which seemed more inspired by ’60s “sexy horror giallo” photo stories. They also delve into Fidani’s overall career including his extremely prolific – but short-lived – period directing westerns, the friends and family aspect of his films, the film’s cast and crew with a particular focus on Senatore’s illustrious, and later troubled career, Fidani’s subsequent projects such as the risqué CALDE LABBRA (1976), and his love of parapsychology, which dominated the rest of his life. As usual, this is another thoughtful, deep-dive discussion, which sheds plenty of light on this little-known film and Fidani’s career. Needless to say, it comes highly recommended!

 

Other extras include several on-camera interviews beginning with Simone Blondell in Gentlemen Prefer Blondes (38m16s), a very welcome chat with the actor who affectionately goes over her time working with her father. Although regarded as more of a painter, she goes over his time working as a set designer on numerous films throughout the ’60s, where through his friend actor Robert Woods was prompted to begin directing. She goes on to defend her father’s work from numerous detractors, his “shyness” shooting sex scenes, and his work as a popular medium. In Photo Story Hero (16m22s), actor Renato Rossini is extremely appreciative for the opportunity to discuss his long career that began as a child when he fantasized about being a cowboy, a dream which was later fulfilled with his starring role in Piero Pierotti’s ZORRO THE REBEL (1966). He has nothing but fond memories working on various film sets, which felt like being in a “big family”, and whose career was guided by “love and passion” and never money. As expected, he also finds time to talk about Fidani and his time working on A.A.A., which led to more roles as “well-meaning villains.”  Film historian Luca Rea is interviewed in Remembering the Medium (14m22s) wherein he discusses the film’s “cult” status due to its long absence, its comic book roots, some of the film’s interesting casting choices, and Fidani’s work as a well-known medium. And finally, Eugenio Ercolani goes in front of the camera in A.A.A. Looking for Paola (20m13s) in which he goes over Paola’s rather remarkable career in great detail and how the changing tastes and “loosening of censorship” required her to push the envelope alongside other actors such as Karin Schubert and Femi Benussi. 

Thanks to Vinegar Syndrome’s first-class restorations, this trio of films finally look their very best, and along with the wide-array of superb supplementary material, these solid, if unspectacular gialli turn out to be far more entertaining than one may initially suppose. Great stuff, all-around!