“Just because it's written
down it's true, huh?” By 1978 the heyday of the Italian murder mystery
– or 'giallo' – had been and gone, but that didn't mean there was nothing of
interest still to rinse out of the well-strained genre. Writer/Director Flavio
Mogherini's murder mystery casts aside much of the classic tropes and visual
styling of the typical giallo film (black gloved killers, gleaming knives,
an escalating series of grisly deaths, European glamour) in favour of –
egads! - just one murder in, of all places, Australia's Sydney with its
sun, sea, and sand. Do not go into this movie expecting killer thrills by any
means and, whatever you do, don't read the spoilerific blurb on the back
of the box!...
Click “READ MORE” below to
continue the review and see more screenshots…
“Modern delinquents are a
different breed and chances are they're stoned and they're meaner, and don't
take this to heart but age isn't on your side. God knows what you'll run into
in a case of this kind.” In the fading light of another gloriously
sunny day at the beach, as a band of boys romp their dirt bikes through the
surf, a little girl merrily skips through the sand and comes to a rest beside a
pair of crashed cars that have, for some curious reason, ended up abandoned
almost in reach of the salty spray. And then a limp, dead hand flops from the
wreckage and terrifies the little girl, her screams ringing out in layer upon
layer of terror before merging into the wailing sirens of the nearby city of
Sydney. Retired homicide detective Inspector Timpson (Ray Milland, Dial M
For Murder), a Canadian immigrant with old school flat footed
techniques, is alerted to the case by young gun Inspector Morris (Rod
Mullinar) – much to the chagrin of his brash partner and their embittered
boss – and manages to bully his way onto the investigation.
The body is that of a young
woman, rendered unidentifiable by partial burning, who was shot and bludgeoned
for reasons unknown by a killer (or killers) who are also unknown.
There's little to go on beyond the burlap sack in which she was hidden and a
few grains of rice – but these are details enough for Timpson to begin his
dogged pursuit of the truth, moreso when Morris' partner is keen to start off
with a pre-emptive determination born out of a classroom obsession with
psychoanalysis: clearly it'll all come down to a sexual deviant with mummy
issues!
“I bet you're one of those
guys who keeps a girl's underwear as a trophy.” Meanwhile, we're
introduced to Dutch immigrant Linda (Dalila Lazzaro, Phenomena),
a beautiful and breezy young woman who is seen touring through her stable of
lovers: the aloof, wealthy, and much older Professor Henry Douglas (Mel Ferrer,
Nightmare City), the sexually aggressive German immigrant Roy (Howard
Ross, Five Dolls For An August Moon), and the weak and introverted
Italian immigrant Antonio (Michele Placido). Reading between the lines
it's hard to figure out what exactly Linda wants out of life, although it is
suggested that she has fled her homeland of Holland – and Amsterdam's Red Light
District – in search of a new life, one which continues to elude her as she
roams from one dead end job to another, all-the-while with a wistful look of
melancholia subtly creasing her features. Despite her sexually liberated
lifestyle and with youth on her side, she cannot find all of the pieces that
would constitute the perfect man in one single place. Henry is wise and
financially secure, Roy is filled with sexual ability, and Antonio is sweet and
loyal – but, in turn, they all have their downsides: old fashioned, misogyny,
or weakness. Linda can never escape the feeling of isolation and disconnection,
something which only gets more clear and desperate as the film progresses.
Indeed, her sense of loneliness permeates much of the cast, and is most keenly
felt during a sequence when Antonio shuffles about alone amidst an almost
deserted cityscape. The isolation of immigrants is a continuing theme
throughout the film, with Mogherini examining it from a cold distance which
further segregates the 'locals' and the 'foreigners'; the lingering subtly
yields little in-the-moment, but does leave in its wake an emotional aftershock
to resonate inside the viewer.
“You are crazy and I love
you.” The investigation, meanwhile, meanders on with Timpson trudging
from one sliver of a lead to another while the rest of the department seem
intent on fitting up the pervy Quint (Giacomo Assandri) as a 'sex
maniac' whose proximity to the body's dump site seems to be evidence enough –
until he is discovered to be in possession of a watch that belonged to the
unidentified victim. Is it case closed, or is there more going on that is yet
to be discovered? Who knows, because Timpson is playing coy with his theories,
backed up by his hunches, as he plays fast and loose with evidence.
“Nothing's really changed
much. Two lonely people together, worse than one.” The Pyjama Girl
Case is more of an interesting film than an entertaining one, worth more in
terms of academic study than killer thrills, what with it's generally slow
pace, guarded secrets, and the fact that the entire plot line following Linda
feels disjointed for the bulk of the running time. Still, the film is not without
some stand out sequences, such as the wrenching sense of tragedy that is
painted across the final moments (set at a cemetery overlooking a
picturesque view of the ocean), or a scene which confirms Linda's history
of prostitution. In this latter scene, Lazzaro's performance is captivating,
from the moment she coldly and professionally states her price as a tear rolls
down each of her alabaster cheeks to the drawn out and uncomfortably creepy
deed itself in which two sweaty, old, and ugly men use Linda while their
thirteen year old son/nephew looks on – his soul shaken eyes matching those of
Linda, whose unblinking gaze locks onto that of the boy who, eventually, can
take no more and turns away with a mix of shame and horror.
One of the film's other highlight
sequences is, bizarrely, based on the true story of the Albury 'Pyjama Girl'
case in Melbourne, Australia in the 1930s, during which the body of an
unidentified female was put on display in a glass case for public exhibition in
the hopes of dredging up some leads. Much as in real life, the Jane Doe of the
film is revealed to the public – the horrifically burned remnants of the face
gazing back at them – and it makes for a disquieting sequence as the public
filter around the display case. Blank faces pass by the glass (even pressing
up against it and leaving greasy marks), people faint and examine and leer
and explore the body from all angles – one man even crawls beneath the display
to assess the pubis and rear end with near-forensic attention.
“Disgrace me in front of
this beautiful young lady.” All in all The Pyjama Girl Case
makes for a mixed viewing experience. While it's almost entirely devoid of the
thrills and mayhem that gialli are so well known for, it does – strangely –
somewhat benefit from almost being the total antithesis of a giallo. The choice
of location alone sets it apart, although the Italian obsession with gleaming
glass, crisp concrete corners, and steel architecture is unmistakable, while
tourist spots like the Sydney Opera House brush up against gritty realism with
a visit to, for instance, a steam-choked laundry manned by undocumented
workers. The break away from killer thriller tradition is interesting, and the
tale is told through a strong visual sense and surprisingly deep character
drama, but there's no denying that the film is too long to sustain the central
storytelling conceit. And the less said about the recurring and honestly quite
wretched 'romantic groove' songs the better – but the bulk of Riz Ortolani's
score helps right the ship, with a mixture of energetic disco synth and the
heart wrenching sorrow of wasted lives.
This all said, the film is not
without a sense of humour at times – Timpson's goading jibe at Quint, for
instance – and there are numerous little details that display a depth of
thought that could be lost to the glacial pacing. Roy, much like Quint, seems
to have an obsession with plastering his walls with pornography, while
Inspector Timpson, keen to be back on the hunt again, is nonetheless utterly
exhausted by foreign languages and perturbed by a 'flaming Queen' who married
for immigration status, such are the feelings of this old detective who has
found himself outside of the time and culture that he is living in. Another
moment, wrought with quiet desperation and sadness, sees a bereaved mother
donate unused baby clothes to a pregnant stranger who watches silently as an
apparent gesture of support belies a crumbling marriage.
“You're the youngest,
prettiest girl who's ever come into this tomb.” Arrow Video's 2018
Blu-Ray release maintains the expected standard that this company has produced
in recent years. The film is presented in a brand new 1.85:1 2K restoration
from the original camera negative with mono audio in either English or Italian with
your choice of optional English or Italian subtitles. Extras wise there's a
surprising amount of meat on the bone: an audio commentary by giallo expert
Troy Howarth, a very well informed examination of “internationalism” in the
giallo by author/critic Michael Mackenzie, interviews with actor Howard Ross,
editor Alberto Tagliavia, assistant director Ferruccio Castronuovo, and
composer Riz Ortolani – plus image gallery, trailer, and reversible sleeve.
N.B. Screenshots are taken
from a lower quality source and not the Blu-Ray that is being reviewed.
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