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.
In view of 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!
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