“There's one death too many
in this story.” The top two names associated with giallo cinema are
that of its creator Mario Bava (Blood and Black Lace) and that of
its master Dario Argento (Deep Red), but another director whose
name should be closely associated with those two is Sergio Martino (The
Mountain of the Cannibal God). In the first half of the 1970s, Martino,
along with frequent collaborating screenwriter Ernesto Gastaldi (Almost Human), produced a slew of all-time greats in the feverish onslaught of
Italian murder mysteries: The Strange Vice of Mrs Wardh (1971), The Case of the Scorpion's Tail (1971), All The Colours of the Dark
(1972), Your Vice Is A Locked Room and Only I Have The Key (1972),
and Torso (1973).
That's quite an impressive resume
in itself, in careers that spanned 66 directorial efforts from Martino and 123
writing credits for Gastaldi. However, there is another gialli that was produced
during their time working together, but one which has flown somewhat under the
radar while the aforementioned titles have taken the lion's share of viewers'
attention: 1975's The Suspicious Death of a Minor. Crafted with
Martino's eye for style and Gastaldi's acerbic storytelling, it arrived at a
time when the giallo (lurid tales of sex and death) was beginning to
cool off and the poliziotteschi (gritty urban crime thrillers) were
attracting audiences with rough 'n' tumble rogue cops tackling the sort of
criminal conspiracies that were happening everyday beyond the cinema's
doorstep...
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continue the review and see more screenshots…
“She was liberal like all
the girls are today.” The film opens with a young woman, Marisa (Patrizia
Castaldi), bickering with a mysterious older gentlemen who emerges from a
Rolls Royce at the foot of a gleaming skyscraper, only to then be pursued by a
man in mirrored sunglasses (Roberto Posse) who is hell-bent on snuffing
her out. Marisa desperately calls home, but nobody wants to answer. Forced to
flee to the dark apartment of someone named 'Raimondo', Marisa's luck runs out
and she is brutally murdered by the silent man in the sunglasses.
“Screw a stranger, change
your life.” Prior to her death she encountered Paolo (Claudio
Cassinelli, What Have They Done To Your Daughters?), a strange and
even kind of sleazy guy, who then takes on the mantle of investigating her
untimely death. Who exactly this man is remains unknown for the time being, but
his methods are clear – that of brute force and subterfuge – as he violently
braces an uncaring landlady who reveals a connection with an under-age
prostitution racket. Employing the services of local prostitutes as well as
Giannino (Adolfo Caruso), a scruffy thief on a moped who is introduced
merrily snatching a bag from a police detective with carefree abandon, Paolo
takes a deep dive into the wretched world of 'babysitters', the code word
applied to teenage prostitutes such as Floriana (Barbara Magnolfi, The Sister of Ursula), who leads this unwavering investigation forward.
“So what are we supposed to
do? Twiddle our thumbs while people are being snatched in the street?”
Tracking Floriana to a dilapidated house in the scruffy outskirts of Milan, they
encounter 'Il Menga' – otherwise known as Raimondo (Franco Alpestre). A
flurry of violence ensues and once the dust settles Paolo and Giannino are left
with two dead bodies, a chequebook for a Swiss bank, and a bag filled with
ransom money from a very recent child kidnapping case – and now the cops are
chasing them down! How far up the food chain will this dark story of
trafficking and dirty money go?
“Balls! It happened again –
these G.D. Glasses.” Considering the dark subject matter, the
undercurrent of humour can sometimes feel jarring, but at least it steers clear
of mocking the plight of the story's victims. Indeed, the main target of the (not
particularly funny) comedy in the film is often those investigating.
Treading a fine line between the usual sense of world weary sarcasm that was
often present in giallo films, especially those written by Ernesto Gastaldi,
Paolo repeatedly breaks his glasses in what becomes a running gag that actually
(albeit briefly) plays an important little part in a development later
in the film. Moments of broad, even slapstick, humour dip in and out of the
proceedings, occasionally upsetting the tone, but a car chase between the
police and Paolo's knackered old Citroen 2CV nonetheless proves to be a
highlight. Lurching about on its axles to a startling degree (it's a wonder
the vehicle didn't veer off into members of the public during shooting),
Paolo orders Giannino to break off the doors and throw them at the pursuing cop
car!
Chasing after them, meanwhile, is
police detective Teti (Gianfranco Barra), who is regularly pitched to
the audience as a hopeless loser, dismissed and tricked by his co-workers, with
an endless streak of bad luck while he pines for a win on the lottery. The
entire sequence – scored with jaunty music – is akin to the sort of escalating
calamities that Italian viewers would have likely seen during this period, when
raunchy comedies were one of the most popular genres, with rubber-bodied
pedestrians flip-flopping themselves out of harm's way and struck cyclists
suddenly finding themselves wobbling about on unicycles.
“If I was a girl you'd bet
your ass I'd be out hooking.” Obviously, for a film over forty years
old, the sexual and social politics are out-of-date, but do offer an intriguing
insight into a bygone era. Take, for instance, Paolo, who is modelled on the
sort of anti-heroes that actors like Clint Eastwood was playing at the time:
brash, single-minded, and with little respect for authority. Positively
chauvinist by today's standards (and even 1970s standards), Paolo
nonetheless will not allow himself to say “god damn” (Italy was still
considerably religious at the time) and he retains a distinct moral compass
when it comes to the establishment doing what it likes with the average punter on
the street. Indeed, a common trope with giallo films is the division between
the youth and the adults in charge, something which is emphasised here with a
further twist as groomers and pimps dismiss their crimes and dump the
responsibility onto the “liberal” shoulders of teens looking to break free from
the strictures imposed upon them by the generation who fought in World War II.
One of the other common themes
was the social divide between the rich urban North and the poor rural South (reflected
in Giannino's story), and Gastaldi's script (co-written with Martino)
certainly sinks its teeth into the ruling elite as a vast conspiracy unveils
itself. The savaging of the 1%, as it were, is most keenly felt in a scene
where a group of old, grey men collude in a sauna, rubbing sweat over their
saggy bodies as they piece together a plot to enrich themselves and further
entrench their collective power. Taking an exceedingly dim view of such
powerful people, The Suspicious Death of a Minor dredges up scandal, corruption,
and the abuse of power, and pits it against institutional malaise and the
restraints of a bureaucratic system. Without spoiling anything, the sombre
expression captured in the final shot of the movie sums up a prevailing tone of
pessimism in what was then modern society, but something which is still just as
relevant today.
“Why do they have to make
money so heavy?” While the film may be the least of Martino &
Gastaldi's collaborations in gialli, it's certainly not by a wide margin.
Beautifully shot by Giancarlo Ferrando, The Suspicious Death of a Minor
captures the cutting edge glamour of 1970s Milan, with its stunning
architecture boldly on-show, as it peels back that glitzy top layer and exposes
the filth squirming beneath it. The mixed tone doesn't always work, but
Martino's eye for spectacle (see the moment that our anti-hero dangles from
the retracting roof of a cinema, or the gunfight during a roller-coaster ride)
combined with a driving score by Luciano Michelini (the energetic main theme
seems to echo that of Deep Red, which was also released in 1975)
makes for an entertaining murder mystery/crime thriller hybrid.
“Any tell tale traces of
love juice, Doctor?” Arrow Video's 2017 Blu-Ray release offers viewers
a gorgeous audio/visual presentation, as has come to be expected, with a choice
of English or Italian languages and optional subtitles. However, when it comes
to extra features, this release isn't exactly swimming in content. There's an
audio commentary from giallo expert Troy Howarth, which does provide a wealth
of knowledge, and the only main extra is an interview with Sergio Martino – but
it does clock in at a very respectable 43 minutes.
N.B. Screenshots are
captured from the DVD copy of the film.
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