FORGOTTEN GIALLI: VOLUME 1 - BLU-RAY REVIEW

As they continually diversify their already extensive catalogue, Vinegar Syndrome have recently begun to explore the world of European genre cinema more often as seen in such previously-released titles as Juan Antonio Bardem’s superb THE CORRUPTION OF CHRIS MILLER (1972), Ignacio F. Iquino’s lovably insane SECTA SINIESTRA (1982) and Andrea Bianchi’s unrepentantly sleazy MALABIMBA (1979). But with FORGOTTEN GIALLI: VOLUME 1, VS have released their most lavish Eurocentric release yet: a 3-disc box set comprising as many once-difficult-to-see gialli, all of which are making their worldwide HD debuts here. 

While Italo giallo thrillers have received plenty of coverage over the years, their Spanish counterparts, outside of an occasional title here or there (e.g., Carlos Aured’s Paul Naschy vehicle BLUE EYES OF THE BROKEN DOLL [1973]), have remained largely unseen. In what turns out to be a fitting starting point for VS’s set, León Klimovsky’s TRAUMA (1978), is just such a film – a lesser-seen, late-breaking paella giallo which not only turned out to be his final film as a director, but also remains one of his most enjoyably trashy efforts.

In his attempt to find some solitude and pursue some writing, Daniel (Henry Gregor / a.k.a. Heinrich Starhemberg) locates a lakeside guesthouse tucked-away in the Spanish countryside outside Madrid. Said establishment’s owner/operator is Veronica (Ágata Lys), who at first seems to be just another lonely spinster. However, it’s soon revealed that she is actually caring for her invalid husband, who is not only confined to his upstairs bedroom, but on occasion, even forces her to disrobe at his perverse whim (“You’ll be my bitch whenever I ask!”). Although enjoying the seclusion, Daniel’s suspicions regarding Veronica begin to escalate when a few unexpected guests fall victim to a razor-wielding killer… 

Unlike Alfred Hitchcock’s PSYCHO (1960), which turns out to be this film’s most noteworthy inspiration, TRAUMA is set in the sunny countryside, an idyllic milieu that belies the film’s oppressive and highly morbid atmosphere. In this diametrically-opposed – if no doubt intentional – bit of creativity, all of the murders also take place either outdoors in broad daylight or in brightly-lit rooms. This leaves little to the imagination as throats and bare torsos are savagely slashed to shreds. Aptly enough, the aforementioned PSYCHO’s renowned shower murder is even given brazen homage. Despite the film’s obvious mimicry of Hitchcock’s classic and its somewhat talkative narrative, Ágata Lys does a fine job in the lead here, while the script by Juan José Porto and Carlo Puerto (latter of whom also wrote and directed SATAN’S BLOOD [1978], which likewise features one of this film’s stars, Sandra Alberti) still manages to build and maintain a reasonable amount of tension. The less-than-explicable twist ending and various red herrings also amount to some of the film’s most memorable, head-scratching moments, which linger long after the film ends. 

Briefly released as a Region 2 DVD in Spain by Filmax (as part of their “Cine “S” de la Transicion Española” series), which was non-anamorphic and lacked any sort English language options, VS’s newly restored 2K transfer from the film’s camera negative is truly stunning in its crystal-clarity, and outside of the print’s slight uptick in contrast during the opening credits (possibly due to the film’s opticals?), it’s all perfectly balanced and gets the most out of the colourful image; the vividly crimson splashes of blood are suitably jarring and quite effective. The Spanish DTS-HD Master Audio mono track with optional English subtitles is also free of any noticeable hiss or distortion, and sounds just about right given the film’s lowly dubbing and limited soundscape. 

Apart from the film’s superb transfer, the other major bonus here is an audio commentary from author and film historian Troy Howarth, who admits he was rather harsh on the film in the third and final volume of his book series So Deadly So Perverse (Midnight Marquee, 2019), so he was happy to revisit it in this newly-minted incarnation. He discusses its many influences, also giving a quick primer on giallo films in general, remarking that, in certain aspects, Klimovsky’s last film is simply an “old-fashioned murder mystery”. Howarth also discusses many of the film’s awkward moments and characters, including the above-noted forced striptease, which is scored with some wholly-inappropriate (quote) “sexy-time dancing” music and just what a (quote) “robotic and weirdly-looking” lead Heinrich Starhemberg is. In addition, Troy seems just as perplexed by the film’s odd, twisty-type resolution as well. It’s an intriguing and entertaining listen, which not only helps put the film in perspective, but enables the viewer to better appreciate many of its offbeat charms. Solid work all around. A brief promotional image gallery is also included.

In the second Castilian-shot giallo comprised within VS’s set, Javier Aguirre’s significantly-more-upscale THE KILLER IS ONE OF THIRTEEN (1973) – freely adapted from Agatha Christie’s famous novel Ten Little Indians (Collins Crime Club, 1939 – later reprinted in the U.S. as And Then There Were None (Pocket Books, 1940) – focuses on a group of disparate people who are invited to a large country estate owned by the recently-widowed Lisa Mandel (Patty Shepard), but as the guests gather for dinner that night, Lisa reveals her true intentions – to try and find out who had murdered her husband two years earlier, knowing full-well that the murderer is someone among them. However, when someone begins killing the guests, Lisa quickly realizes the (quote) “game has gone too far!” 

Having written and directed both COUNT DRACULA’S GREAT LOVE (1972) and HUNCHBACK OF THE MORGUE (1972), two of Paul Naschy’s more laudable efforts, Aguirre’s film can certainly be construed as a Spanish equivalent of an Italian giallo, but its rather old-fashioned approach is also a bit of an anomaly in that it features none of the unique flair common to Italian thrillers, despite a few close-ups of black-gloved hands and some pleasingly vicious murders in the film’s final act. Lively characters and plenty of squabbling (much of it revolving around snobbery and class struggles) dominate much of the film’s running time, but interest is maintained by the twisty plot and game cast (which includes numerous other familiar faces from Spanish cinema, such as Simón Andreu, Dianik Zurakowska, May Heatherley, Jack Taylor, Eduardo Calvo and Paul Naschy, the latter three of whom also appeared in Carlos Aured’s THE MUMMY’S REVENGE [1973] the same year). Incidentally, in the special double issue of Bob Sargent’s Videooze from 1994, Naschy admitted that he (quote) “had no interest in working in it, and I did it simply to earn money”; which makes sense, given his minor role as Lisa’s chauffeur, which barely totals ten minutes.

As with TRAUMA, Aguirre’s film was also never released outside of Spain, and in 2008, it too received a Region 2 DVD release in its native country, this time as part of Filmax’s “Cine de Terror Español”, and once again that disc featured a non-anamorphic image and no English-language audio options. While the film was flatly-shot by Francisco Fraile, VS’s new 2K transfer taken from the film’s 35mm camera negative looks splendid here nonetheless, and is miles better than Filmax’s dull SD counterpart, which will undoubtedly please most viewers. The DTS-HD Master Audio  mono track, which is offered in Spanish with optional English subtitles also sounds fine, with Alfonso Santisteban’s fitting giallo-like music score sounding lush and robust.  

While it’s an obscure film to be sure, VS have thankfully commissioned author and Diabolique’s Editor-In-Chief Kat Ellinger to provide an audio commentary, so for anyone that’s listened to any of her previous informative chats (especially when related to Spanish genre cinema), her work herein is no different and features plenty of erudite observations and facts (including her discussion – and defense – of Spanish gialli), which helps us better appreciate a film that has (quote) “fallen through the cracks.”; it’s a very worthy listen, indeed! The only other extra is a brief image gallery displaying the film’s Spanish lobby card set.

Although produced in 1972, Helia Columbo’s THE POLICE ARE BLUNDERING IN THE DARK (1975) is easily one of the more obscure – and also one of the strangest– Italian gialli of the period, making for a perfect summation to VS’s set. Right in the opening scene, a young woman is gruesomely murdered on the outskirts of Rome when her car breaks down. Later, when Enrichetta Blonde (Margaret Rose Keil), a young model who had just finished a photo shoot at the surrounding Villa Eleonora, is also viciously murdered at a rundown pensione, her disappearance prompts her journalist friend Giorgio D’Amato (Joseph Arkim) to drive up from Rome and poke around this mysterious villa. There he meets Edmondo Parisi, an eccentric wheelchair-bound photographer, his neurotic wife Eleonora (Halina Zalewska) and their guarded niece, Sara (Elena Veronese), but despite their initial reservations, they invite him for dinner and even allow him to spend the night. It’s soon discovered that Edmondo has actually devised a machine that can photograph one’s thoughts (?!), which, after much ‘blundering’, eventually unveils an unlikely killer.

While it does open on a rather promising note, this strictly minor-league giallo will probably be a tough slog for more casual viewers of the form. Here hiding behind his Columbo pseudonym, this actually turned out to be Italian composer Pasquale Elio Palumbo’s one-and-only directorial effort, and despite the well-oiled machinations of its outlandish giallo plotline (which liberally borrows – and takes one step further – a key element from Dario Argento’s FOUR FLIES ON GREY VELVET [1971]), it suffers the most from its uneven, almost leisurely pacing, so when the narrative begins waxing on the more, uh, ‘philosophical’ side of things, it just about stops dead in its tracks. Thankfully, interspersed between some of the lengthy expository dialogues, it also contains enough odd touches (highlighted by Edmondo’s science-fiction-like contraption) and some well-established local atmosphere thanks to Giancarlo Pancaldi’s decent, if at times, wonky cinematography, which really comes alive during some of the surprisingly visceral murders sequences. 

As with the other films in VS’s adventurous set, this once nigh-impossible-to-see giallo has been miraculously transferred in 2K from its original 35mm camera negative, so regardless of its humbled, troubled origins, it looks wonderful here. The lush greenery of the Italian countryside and some of the film’s previously unwatchable nighttime scenes display far more detail in VS’s newly-restored edition, while some of the film’s more outrageous, gel-coloured lighting also looks well-defined and problem-free. The Italian DTS-HD Master Audio mono track is also solid enough, sounding about how you’d expect from a low-budget affair such as this, which features plenty of the usual ADR work. 

While this disc doesn’t contain a feature-length audio commentary, it does include a thorough audio essay with film historian and critic Rachael Nisbet, who covers plenty of interesting and heretofore unknown facts about the problematic production (it was originally titled, in Italian, Il giardino della lattuga [trans: “The Lettuce Garden”] before being shelved for the better part of three years), the director and some of his questionable narrative choices, plus plenty more. But be warned: watch the film beforehand, as this essay drops a number of spoilers. As with the other discs, the only extra is a brief promotional image gallery. 

While there’s no denying that some of these films may not be for everyone, this altogether impressive set with its attractive transfers, striking packaging and a host of illuminating extras easily make this a highly-recommended purchase. Order it from Vinegar Syndrome.

COUNT DRACULA'S GREAT LOVE - BLU-RAY REVIEW

As COUNT DRACULA’S GREAT LOVE opens, you know you’re in for something different, something special, as two men attempt to deliver a coffin to the Kargos Klinik, a dilapidated but beautifully eerie gothic setting in what is meant to be rural Transylvania.  Shortly, having been tempted by the possible riches which may be housed within their cargo, they are killed for their curiosity by some mysterious individual: one has his throat gorily torn apart while the other gets an axe buried in his forehead.  As the latter’s limp body tumbles down the nearby stairs, this sequence is repeatedly played behind the opening credits in what seems like a never-ending loop. Whether or not this repetitive image was used simply due to budgetary constraints, it certainly sets up the wholly unique nature of the entire production aptly enough. 

Directed by the always reliable Javier Aguirre, COUNT DRACULA’S GREAT LOVE is Naschy’s only vampire outing, which, in spite of his long and varied filmography, remains one of his standout efforts.  Readily available since the dawn of video from a variety of labels, usually under a multitude of titles, the transfer prints of most, if not all of them, came either incomplete, pan-and-scanned or were sourced from badly battered-and-tattered prints (typically heavily cut TV versions); which very much makes Vinegar Syndrome’s highly welcome Blu-ray / DVD combo both quite the revelation and definitive, putting to shame any and all versions which have gone before. 

While we’re still trying to comprehend and get out from under the film’s hallucinatory opening, the film begins proper. In the countryside surrounding the sanatorium, Imre (Vic Winner) is chaperoning four young ladies, Marlene (Ingrid Garbo), Senta (Rossana Yanni), Elke (Mirta Miller) and Karen (Haydee Politoff), as they travel through the Borgo Pass.  As their carriage passes the old Kargos sanatorium, Imre tells stories of a “killer prince” who used to run the place and assures them that “Count Dracula existed.”  Naturally, their carriage is sidetracked when it loses a wheel, and the resulting commotion causes the horses to get spooked, an unforeseen chain of events which consequently causes the death of their coachman.  As the storm approaches, the stranded wayfarers seek shelter at the seemingly abandoned sanatorium, where, much to their surprise, they are warmly greeted by Dr. Wendell Marlowe (Naschy).  Grateful for his hospitality, Imre is soon overcome by one of the “dead” delivery men from the opening (who has since become turned into a vampire), whereupon Dr. Marlowe eventually reveals his true identity, who, as – yes, you guessed it! – Dracula, not only wishes to reincarnate his dead sister Rodna, but also to attain the eternal love of a woman… if hopefully presumably one other than his own sister!

Predominantly associated with his incredibly popular Waldemar Daninsky character, Paul Naschy’s Dracula is yet another one of his agonized ‘monsters’ wrestling with his destiny, who, in the end, is merely pining to be loved (“The love of a woman changed the destiny of Dracula”). Even though he does have an underlying and quite sinister motive, Dr. Marlowe is always presented in a very sympathetically melancholic light as he roams the ever-decaying sanatorium he calls home.  On a few occasions, as he seeks the amorous attention of Karen, they philosophize about life and death (“The power of the unknown goes beyond death”) and the fact that he’s (quote) “never been in love.”  What could well have come across as overly sentimental, much of this admittedly lackluster dialogue – at least in the English-dubbed version - actually works in the film’s favour, which is especially evident when Dr. Marlowe is revealed to be Dracula, following which the film abruptly shifts gears and escalates to become one of the more daring and gruesome Dracula pictures of the time, which culminates with a surprising and unusually poetic conclusion.

Needless to say, this being a Spanish horror film from the ’70s, it’s high on atmosphere, boasting everything from slow-motion vampire attacks, an eerie surrounding countryside – nicely captured by DP Raúl Pérez Cubero – and some very strong set-pieces.  In one of the film’s more controversial scenes, Marlene and Elke – as voracious vampire brides – lick and claw at the bloodied breasts of their friend Senta; which is just one of the many scenes that raised more than one censor’s eyebrow.  Alongside some of these memorably eye-opening scenes, one of the film’s stronger assets, that adds immensely to the overall atmosphere, is Carmelo Bernaola’s rather minimalist and highly repetitive music, which effectively emphasizes both the sudden outbursts of gory horror – of which there are plenty – as well as underscoring the somewhat despondent, lonesome count’s empty existence with its jarring piano and quieter, organ-driven passages.

As per their normal high standards, Vinegar Syndrome’s Blu-ray / DVD combo is a crisp, colourful transfer that is actually quite astonishing to behold.  Taken from an uncut 35mm inter-negative provided by its long-ago American theatrical distributor, International Amusement Corporation, VS has given the film a fresh 2K scan which retains the film’s original 1.85:1 aspect ratio.  Natural grain is well-preserved, while darker scenes have much more consistent black levels compared to earlier editions, which seemed washed-out and suffered from a compromised colour palette.  Regardless of the wonky dubbing on the English version – for instance, most of the supposedly Romanian locals are given perplexing southern American “hillbilly” accents (!!) that seem to have strayed in from one of Harry Novak’s sleazy ’70s hixploitation films – the audio registers clear and robust, making this version the best viewing choice by far.  And yet, as an added bonus, the VS Blu-ray also includes a Spanish audio track with optional English subtitles, which isn’t quite as strong, but makes for a nice inclusion just the same.  However, the most substantial extra is an audio commentary with Naschy and Aguirre, which was conducted in Spanish and accompanied by English subtitles.  They discuss the genesis of the project (even referring to it as “Love and Dracula”), as well as some of their influences, such as casting, the various difficulties they experienced with certain cast members, plus censorship issues and some of film’s rather challenging locations.  Naturally, it’s a solid listen, and a real must for any fan of Naschy’s work.  Other extras include an interview with actress Mirta Miller, who also talks about some of the difficulties of the shoot, such as the cold weather and her preference of Aguirre’s directorial style over that of León Klimovsky.  The once-difficult-to-find theatrical trailer and a generous still gallery are additional inclusions and, unlike most of their releases, VS has also included an 8-page booklet with thorough liner notes from Naschy expert Mirek Lipinski.  Keen-eyed viewers will also notice that the reversible artwork features an image which was also utilized for Jess Franco’s EROTIKILL (1973), the alternate horror version of FEMALE VAMPIRE (1973), which was most commonly seen on Force Video’s big box VHS videocassette from the 1980s.

An absolutely stellar release, Vinegar Syndrome’s Blu-ray / DVD combo of this exceptional Paul Naschy film can and should be regarded as one of finest European genre releases of the year.  Order it at Vinegar Syndrome or DiabolikDVD.