With The Case of the Bloody Iris, fans of gialli will
experience one of the era's best examples, particularly as it shares much of
the same talent as another prime representative of the lurid murder mystery
movement – The Strange Vice of Mrs Wardh (Sergio Martino, 1971).
Both films star Edwige (Strip Nude For Your Killer, Phantom of Death)
Fenech and George (My Dear Killer, All The Colours of the Dark) Hilton,
while boasting superb scripts from Ernesto (Torso, Almost Human)
Gastaldi, and crystalline editing by Eugenio (Oasis of Fear, The Good The
Bad and The Ugly) Alabiso. Suffice to say, if you were a fan of landmark
giallo The Strange Vice of Mrs Wardh, you will be treated to a similarly
luxuriant banquet of sumptuous visuals, sinister chills, and otherworldly
beauty...
Click "READ MORE" below for the review and many more screenshots...
“Sin can be as black as you, and your colour has
corrupted me.” Also known as “Erotic Blue”, and “What Are Those
Strange Drops of Blood Doing on Jennifer's Body?”, Giuliano Carnimeo's (aka
Anthony Ascott) film is an ever-twisting murder mystery over-flowing with
an exuberant cast of potential suspects, effective red herrings, and enigmas
that persist all the way up to the final seconds. Opening with a taught scene
where we stalk a blonde prostitute through the streets, into a lavish apartment
complex, and then a lift filled with residents – strangers one and all –
Gastaldi takes his gloves off as soon as the unseen killer in black dons
theirs. Upon the discovery of the unknown woman's body, the casual lack of
interest, or even horror, paints the picture of an oblivious middle class, who
complain en-mass that the lift hasn't arrived to whisk them away to their
richly decorated homes.
“You're an object, and you belong to me.” Then, in
the wake of the death of a resident, models Jennifer (Fenech, stunning as
always) and Marilyn (Paola Quattrini, all jokes and carefree shrugs)
move into the building thanks to its handsome architect Andrea (Hilton),
a man of means possessed by a crippling phobia of blood. Unfortunately for
Jennifer, she finds herself the obsession of the black-clad stalker – but who
could it be? Her ex-husband Adam, a member of an orgiastic cult? David, the
scarred shut-in with a penchant for horror magazines? Mr Isaacs, the
violin-playing Professor? Or could it be his predatory daughter Sheila, or
perhaps one of the other warped residents?
“I need to belong to someone, and no-one else.”
Amongst the beguiling sets – all like a lurid hangover of the 1960s – The
Case of the Bloody Iris sprints fast and free as it dispenses satirical
side-swipes as readily as it does with dizzying camera work (courtesy of
Stelvio Massi), bared flesh or torn blouses. The generational rift – where
elderly women pour scorn upon the young, painted 'whores' of modern
times – is clashed with combative sexual politics – where every commodity is
sold with sex, and yet the Amazonian Mizar (Carla Brait) can
trounce any lascivious man who dares to try and last three minutes in her ring.
“A perfectly good reputation.” As was common for the
time, the police investigating the growing stack of dead bodies are afforded
little in the way of respect – their interests piqued by price tags,
consumerist envy, and in the case of Giampiero Albertini's Commissioner, stamp
collecting. However, Gastaldi's scalding critique of Italian law enforcement in
the 1970s (where three crimes occur each minute) is pleasingly mixed
with perfectly arranged moments of humour – a filing cabinet doubles as a bar,
while the Commissioner's partner is distracted from a very public murder as he
lays slices of meat into his sandwich.
“I must say, you'd tempt any human being.” Blue
Underground's DVD (released in 2008) boasts a gorgeous print in the
original 2.35:1 aspect ratio (with only brief print damage in a couple of
scenes) and a nice, clear soundtrack that gives equal measure between
dialogue and Bruno Nicolai's alluring score. Extras wise you get a trailer,
alternate stabbing scene (a briefer, and inferior, version of the public
killing), and a filmography for the Director.
“You don't care who the killer is as long as someone
fries for it!” Gastaldi's enjoyably acerbic script (“No orgies, I get
motion sickness”), combined with Carnimeo's focused direction, and Massi's
visually splendid lensing, makes for an absolute must-see giallo, especially
for devotees of the sublime Edwige Fenech (and her piercing brown eyes)
and the graceful stature of George Hilton. Utterly, totally, endlessly divine.
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