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“I'm a smart killer, Inspector – a little smarter than
all of you.” Consider the giallo genre – what springs to mind?
Black-clad killers with razor knives, blood-splattering violence, and
scintillating sexuality? Chances are that forensic examination of a crime scene
and perspective-altering scenes of court room drama didn't crop up – but that's
exactly what sets Duccio Tessari's The Bloodstained Butterfly apart from
the crowd. Side-stepping many of gialli's visual clichés, nestling into a pace
akin to the more thoughtful examples of the genre such as Aldo Lado's Short Night of Glass Dolls (1971), Tessari's film nonetheless paints a
bleak and savage picture of inter-generational betrayal, lust, abuse, and
shattered illusions...
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screenshots…
“The past does not exist since it is already gone by.
Nor does the future exist since it is yet to come. Therefore only the present
exists, but it may be composed of past and future since it is where they meet.”
Seguing from a thunderous rendition of Tchaikovsky's famous Piano Concerto No.
1 into an infusion of 1970s Euro-jazz, Tessari and his co-screenwriter
Gianfranco Clerici introduce the audience to the extensive cast. Scattered
throughout the beautiful, sun-drenched city, we catch glimpses of the key
players going about their daily lives – until we reach the local park. A
rainstorm looms as a mother begs her children (clad in yellow macs that make
them look like dancing butterflies) to hurry home – then a scream shatters
their innocent fantasies. A little girl freezes in terror, then flees at the
sight of a young woman's bloodied body tumbled down a hill amidst the trees.
“Look at him, look at his face ladies and gentlemen of
court – he is accused of murdering a seventeen year old girl: Françoise
Pigaut.” Wearing a distinctive jacket and hat combo, the killer hurries
away as the rain begins to fall. Crossing paths with befuddled citizens –
selling balloons, closing their windows, hopelessly attempting to get frisky in
a Fiat 500 – the framing for the film is set: multiple witnesses only capturing
fragments of the story, and we the viewer are thrown in at the deep end of the
plot without a guide. The truth will out – but when, and how?
“Except for my father, I can't remember one person
loving me.” Similarly finding themselves in at the deep end is
television sports presenter Alessandro 'Sandro' Marchi (Giancarlo Sbragia)
– soon hauled in front of a Judge and put on trial for the murder of the school
girl, a friend of his own daughter Sarah (Wendy D'Olive). As evidence is
examined carefully – Caucasian skin under the victim's nails, staining on her
jacket, train tickets in her pockets, and fingerprints on the bloodied knife –
Sandro, despite a spirited defence which casts doubt on all previous assertions
of the prosecution, is found guilty and thrown behind bars. But when a second
murder occurs, the modus operandi startlingly similar to the case of Françoise
Pigaut (Carole Andre), will a new truth be exposed?
“This tiresome provincial life saddens so many,
especially you young people.” The ensemble cast are split between the
young and the middle-aged – the fresh-faced upstarts, naïve and passionate
versus the malaise of the bourgeois upper class – presents, at first, a story
that seems to be moving in several directions at once. How do the pieces fit?
There's Giorgio (Helmut Berger, Salon Kitty), a trust fund
pianist struggling with inner torment and parental fatigue, who strikes up a
relationship with Sarah Marchi, the well-catered-for but unloved offspring of
Sandro and Maria (Ida Galli, aka Evelyn Stewart, The Case of the Scorpion's Tail), who proves to be less than helpful during her
husband's trial.
Meanwhile, Inspector Berardi (Silvano Tranquilli, The Black Belly of the Tarantula) speculates theories as often as he bats
away cups of machine-made coffee (too bitter, too sugary, too cold, too hot!).
Is he too eager for a conviction to contemplate a possible miscarriage of
justice? These are only some of the players, leading the viewer to examine the
film with as much forensic detail as the police detectives charged with solving
the case of 'The Park Murderer'. Just when you think you've got it all figured
out, a twist spirals your theory up into the air – suffice it to say, The
Bloodstained Butterfly refuses to tread a well-worn path and serves up a
bitter and twisted tale.
“You think you can have whatever you please, don't
you? Whatever you like you grab and you don't give a damn who you hurt!”
Shot in the gorgeous old streets of Milan and Bergamo in Italy (impressive
photography by Carlo Carlini, Seven Deaths in the Cat's Eye),
Tessari's film skews away from flashy murder set pieces. The violence tends
more towards the implied, or merely glimpsed, until the finale – one of the key
highlights of the film. Editor Gianmaria Messeri cuts back and forth between
protracted pain & vengeance and a blossoming romance, as Gianni (Death Walks At Midnight) Ferrio's heartfelt score surges against the grain of
stark, cold, echoing gunshots. Beauty and tragedy clash, then blend, and
finally swap places in a melodramatic crescendo that sends the camera into a
flurry of incredulous whip pans. The madness of love has rarely been this
crazed.
Similarly memorable is the film's best sequence – a
rain-lashed crime scene at night – which changes viewpoints, transferring from
a television broadcast to the wide shot view of a voyeur. Forensic examiners
huddle over their tool kits and carefully assemble the evidence as Françoise’s
cold body – eyes frozen in a disbelieving stare – lies motionless in the dirt.
Never lurid, The Bloodstained Butterfly proves to be a classier affair
than most gialli with modest profiles. Light on murder and mayhem, it is
instead high on drama, characterisation, and small details that prove crucial.
“Father, our family motto reads: born a bastard to
become a King … well, I never got a crack at the King.” Perhaps a touch
over-long (a few scenes would benefit from the odd judicious trim)
Tessari's film is nonetheless a commendable effort. Dealing with themes of
ruined love, infidelity, family breakdown, and the darker side of male
sexuality in middle age, The Bloodstained Butterfly is a giallo that
should linger in the mind as the grim layers of the film's ultimate reveal are
peeled away.
“Your silence is more eloquent than any reply.”
Arrow Video's 2016 Blu-Ray/DVD combo release features an admirable visual
and aural presentation, and a solid compliment of extra features. A range of
interviews: Ida Galli/Evelyn Stewart (55 minutes), Lorella De Luca (8
minutes), and Helmut Berger (18 minutes), are joined by the
now-staple Arrow feature the 'Visual Essay' (27 minutes), which provide
a wealth of historical, technical, and academic facts. Rounding out the package
are a Promo Gallery, two versions of the Trailer, an Audio Commentary with
genre critics & writers Alan Jones and Kim Newman, and another Arrow
staple: reversible artwork (old and new) and a booklet featuring
insightful essays on the film and the giallo genre.
N.B. Screenshots are taken from the DVD copy of the film.
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