An unlikely but persistent memory of my childhood in the 60's is the provocative television ad for a now relatively-obscure Italian movie titled "Paranoia". Soon coming to a theater-near-me, "Paranoia" presented itself as a sex-thriller starring Carroll Baker, a former Method actress-cum-sex goddess who'd recently abandoned an unloving Hollywood for career opportunities abroad. Rated X, the movie ad suggested all sorts of interesting perversities being explored onscreen by Baker and her two young co-stars and, although I knew I'd never see the actual film--even my open-minded dad had his limits--I was completely fascinated by the shocking images leaping from the TV screen in between episodes of "Rowan and Martin's Laugh-In" and "The Mod Squad".
Cut to 2020, and the Severin Films restoration and release of the Carroll Baker/Umberto Lenzi collaborations in one glorious, blu-ray box-set. How could I not rush to purchase this unexpected delight? Even at seventy dollars plus change, even though I'd never heard of the other movies in the set, and even though I knew that the reviews for "Paranoia" (now billed as "Orgasmo", the original Italian title) were abysmal, the old TV ads had firmly (and illogically) lodged themselves in my mind, ensuring that the lure of this box set would prove too heady a temptation to resist. It seemed destined to be. And so it was.
Director Umberto Lenzi, responsible for the excellent "Seven Blood-Stained Orchids", the awful "Spasmo", and a progenitor of the Italian cannibal film genre (a distinction some may appreciate more than others), was a prolific figure in Italian cinema during the 60's, 70's and 80's and whether you love his work or hate it might depend on your disposition towards his preferred avenues of filmmaking. The films in this set are billed as giallo, a genre of which I am particularly fond. Dario Argento and Mario Bava are giallo kings, in my opinion, so they are the gold standard by which I measure all other directors in this category. Even so, citing "Orgasmo" as a giallo pushes the definition of that genre to the limit. Beyond the limit, actually, because, in fact, "Orgasmo" is not a giallo at all. Simply put, "Orgasmo" is Eurotrash, albeit handsomely mounted Eurotrash with a beautiful, Oscar-nominated actress as the leading lady.
None of that really matters, though, because Carroll Baker is absolutely awful in the role of Kathryn, a recently widowed bazillionairess hiding out in her country villa with a ton of money, a grumpily sinister maid and an elderly, near-deaf caretaker who looks like he just wandered off the set of "Hee-Haw". Pouting about the manse in a series of diaphanous peignoirs, Kathryn guzzles J & B and frets a lot while her attorney (Tino Carraro) jets in and out to comfort the not-so-grieving widow.
When studly young Peter (Lou Castel) has car trouble outside her estate, Kathryn snaps out of her ennui long enough to offer him a cocktail and loan him some tools to repair the car. Wasting no time, Peter repays the favor (a tool for a tool, as it were) by joining Kath in the shower when she adjourns for her evening toilette. Instantly smitten, Kathryn conducts her affair with careless abandon under the ruthless eye of hovering, grim maid, Teresa. However, upon installing Peter in her villa, Kathryn is chagrined to learn that he has a previously unmentioned "sister" (Colette Descombes), a curiously catlike waif who quickly cozies up to Kathryn's increasingly crowded bosom.
Both attracted and repelled by her current situation, Kathryn tries to keep up with the cool kids by mixing her J & B with drugs and lame attempts at dancing. With her libido in overdrive and a burgeoning reliance on various substances, Kathryn can't seem to tell if she's coming or going (although I'd venture to say that it's more of the former than the latter). Naturally it's no surprise when everyone (well, almost everyone) reveals their true colors and things eventually take a nosedive for all the participants.
Describing this silly drivel makes it sound much more interesting and sexy than it actually is, although I still have to watch the X-rated version. Mostly, "Orgasmo" moves at a near-glacial pace, with zero suspense and even fewer thrills: the sex scenes in the director's cut are more tame than most of the stuff I've seen on the FX network, and there is none of the mystery, gore or scares one normally associates with the giallo genre. With the exception of Tino Carraro, who is very good as Baker's attorney/would-be suitor, the acting ranges from bad to worse. To the credit of cinematographer Guglielmo Mancori, the movie looks good and has received a decent restoration, which is more than I can say for the last Severin release I saw ("Horrors of Spider Island").
"So Sweet, So Perverse", Lenzi's 1969 follow-up to "Orgasmo", once again features Baker, as well as Jean-Louis Trintignant and Erika Blanc, involved in a love triangle which leads to an entertainingly gialloesque mystery that makes excellent use of its Paris locale (particularly the art-nouveau apartment buildings). In this outing, Trintignant plays Jean, a shadily seductive married playboy who cruises around Paris in a gorgeous, yellow GTO convertible while living the luxe life of high-society parties, shooting clubs and elegant bed-mates. His sexless marriage to ice-princess Erika Blanc already on perilous ground, Jean overhears a violent confrontation between the couple living in the apartment directly above him and rushes off to save the day. Of course, once he sets eyes on beautiful damsel-in-distress Nicole (Baker), he hustles her off to bed and the real plot machinations begin.
With Nicole's Teutonic abusive rapist/lover, Klaus, out pursuing his own agenda, Jean vows to divorce Erika Blanc so he and Nicole can always be together. But, what to do about the murderous Klaus? And what if Erika Blanc won't agree to a divorce? Determining that a weekend sojourn on the French Riviera would help clarify matters, Jean and Nicole sneak off to a romantic hideaway on the coast, unaware that Klaus is hot on their heels. Of course, nothing is as it seems, and there are betrayals upon betrayals, and all kinds of sordid secrets that eventually come to light. There are also murders, although we're not always certain who may be dead and who is merely playing dead.
The movie takes a distinctly "Diabolique"-ish spin that proceeds to fold in upon itself before, surprisingly, repeating the same spin yet again, resulting in a completely incongruous and audacious twist that actually works.
As in "Orgasmo", Carroll Baker doesn't display much acting versatility in "So Sweet, So Perverse" (although her bossy sexpot is fun in a perverse sort of way) but Erika Blanc--never a thespian of note--is very good as Jean's apparently frigid, compulsive shopper/trophy-wife.
Jean-Louis Trintignant turns in the best performance of the lot, adding a modicum of theatrical authenticity to his role as the savior-seducer whose motives may be even less clear-cut than they first appear. Considering that Trintignant starred in Bertolucci's highly acclaimed "Il Conformista", from roughly the same period, he seems at once too classy for this material and, at the same time, perfectly suited to playing a morally ambiguous character in a thriller of dubious integrity (at the time, giallo films were generally considered to be inferior and exploitative drive-in fodder). His character in Bertolucci's film may be imbued with more depth and a better script, but he's not all that different from the adulterous, adventurous Don Juan he plays here. Indeed, for every "Les Biches", "Z", or "Ma Nuit Chez Maud", Trintignant found ample time to headline "Trans-Europ-Express", "The Man Who Lies", "Death Laid An Egg" and "The Libertine". A little of this, a little of that: Trintignant seems to have been fairly democratic in his selection of film roles, and certainly no snob. Though "So Sweet, So Perverse" is not nearly as clever as it pretends to be, it's good, beautifully photographed fun that maintains a sense of humor and suspense while keeping things moving at a decent clip.
Which brings me to "A Quiet Place to Kill" (billed in Italy as "Paranoia"), the third Baker/Lenzi effort in the collection. More or less (mostly less) treading the same path as its predecessor, "Quiet Place" is neither as intriguing nor as clever as "So Sweet, So Perverse". On the plus side, cinematographer Guglielmo Mancori does a splendid job capturing the stunning beauty of Majorca although the rapid camera zooms during party shots seem hopelessly outdated and silly. The ultra-cool music, by Gregorio Garcia Segura, is very evocative of that particular era of European filmmaking, lending the film a nostalgic air for those of us who were around back then. Special kudos to Shirley Harmer's gorgeous rendition of "You", which serves as the film's theme song (Harmer sounds a little like Streisand performing a never-produced James Bond tune).
Filmed in 1970, "A Quiet Place to Kill" features Baker as Helen, a sexy racecar driver (I know, just go with it) who is put out of commission after a near-fatal accident on the track. While her injuries are purportedly life-threatening, Helen's makeup and hair remain perfectly lacquered. Following a curiously non-scarring surgical procedure that saves her life, Helen is advised that her recovery will take time, care and a renunciation of her dissolute lifestyle. With a nod to the doctor, Helen practically sprints out the hospital exit and into the convertible of some poor schmuck who is presumably her current suitor. When said schmuck stops at a curbside bar to pick up a couple of whiskeys to go-go, Helen speeds off in his car.
It seems that racecar driving, at least for Helen, wasn't a terribly lucrative career choice, certainly not one that goes hand-in-hand with her high-living amongst the glitterati of Rome. So, being penniless, Helen accepts an invitation from ex-husband Maurice (Jean Sorel) to join him and his new(ish) wife, Constance (Anna Proclemer), at their villa on the island of Majorca. The only thing stopping her is the lack of transportation, hence the theft of the schmuck's convertible. Once on the isle, Helen finds herself living in the lap of 1970's luxury, which actually doesn't look all that bad from 50 years down the road. I noticed a Miro on one wall and several other interesting pieces scattered throughout the house, and the wallpaper and retro furnishings add an element of hedonistic fun to the considerably less fun proceedings.
Although beautiful (but also penniless) Maurice has snagged himself an older, very rich wife, he seems genetically disinclined to remain faithful to his meal ticket. Helen barely has time to strip off her clothes (a frequent occurrence in this film) and climb into the shower before both Maurice and Constance are ogling her from different vantage points.
Soon afterwards, the plotting and canoodling begins and, before you know it, poor Helen is weighing conflicting opportunities that either involve being buck-naked or schooling herself in the use of dangerous weapons. Or a combination of both.
In case you hadn't noticed by now, nudity in films was never an issue for Carroll Baker, and honestly, she does look pretty spectacular as she slides on and off of beds, couches and any other piece of scenery lending itself to carnal engagement. More sexually explicit than either "Orgasmo" (the director's cut, anyway) or "So Sweet, So Perverse", Baker's shower scene even offers quickly-glimpsed evidence that the carpet does indeed match the drapes. So, in all honesty, if it's female nudity you're after, "A Quiet Place to Kill" should fit the bill. Conversely, don't expect to see Jean Sorel flaunting his business as he remains chastely covered by a towel or strategically placed sheet during the sex scenes. When it's all said and done, Sorel would have fared better had he performed the entire movie in the altogether, given the unspeakable fashion ensembles his character is forced to wear. The same goes for Anna Proclemer, whose outlandish attire seems to have sprung from an unholy union of Frederick's of Hollywood and Boeing.
Eventually, there is a murder that doesn't quite come off as expected, and a police investigation that is representative of the dunderheaded-cops-on-the-case trope that highlighted many Italian flicks of the day. However, as dumb as these guys are--and we are talking goldfish level IQ's here--they are still way smarter than the bricks in "Blood and Black Lace", a classic film featuring what may be the worst cops in cinematic history.
If you prefer a solid mystery-thriller highlighted by good performances, you won't find that here. As Helen, Baker has reverted to the snotty/hysterical persona she adapted for "Orgasmo": she's either behaving like a spoiled brat or an abused victim, there's not really any other nuance to Helen's character. Sorel, a sometimes distinguished actor, looks great but Maurice is a vapid, one-note kind of guy with few interests other than a ceaseless quest for bedmates. And poor Anna Proclemer, in the unenviable role of Constance the sugar-mama, seems about half-crocked most of the time.
The cast of supporting characters should also be more interesting than they turn out to be. There's Maurice's best friend, the local judge who is (allegedly) a stickler for justice; a jet-setting doctor whose new movie camera may be the key to solving a disappearance; a peripatetic woman named Solange who might possibly be married to one of the characters but seems to wander freely amongst all the men; and Susan, Constance's stepdaughter, who arrives midway through the film to up the sexual tension and the financial stakes (not to mention the fashion horror). Once all these characters in the script eventually fall into place, things pretty much played out exactly as I thought they would. Also billed as a giallo, "A Quiet Place to Kill" is, disappointingly, not that at all. It is, however, a beautifully photographed, if mediocre, sex thriller that is enlivened by a nice musical score and a couple of thrilling car-speeding-around-the-mountain sequences.
So, last but darn near least, we come to the fourth and final Baker/Lenzi installment, "Knife of Ice". Judging from the description, "Knife of Ice" sounds like the closest thing we have to a true giallo in this entire set, yet it remains the most deeply unsatisfying movie of the lot. With a black-gloved, knife-wielding assassin on the loose, darkly costumed figures flitting around the shadows, a satanic cult practicing black magic in the local ruins, and the usual empty-headed cops unable to find their collective asses with both hands, all the requisites are in place for what should have been a crackling good giallo. I started out watching this movie with the highest of hopes, although given the general hinkiness of its three predecessors, I probably should have tempered my expectations accordingly. Having long nurtured a soft spot for giallo mysteries, I forgot a cardinal rule regarding the genre: not all gialli are created equally. For all its giallo trappings, "Knife of Ice" fails to generate any real menace, and if you're expecting the usual damsels in distress running around in varying stages of undress well, you've come to the wrong address.
Unfortunately, it's the opening scene that starts things out on the wrong foot and the movie never quite regains its momentum afterwards. Filmed on location in Spain, this prologue features a brutal, real-life bullfight as its centerpiece. It's a gory, gaudy spectacle full of bloodshed and cruelty, all reflected in the excited, rapturous gazes of spectators seated above the ring. I hated this scene and it is, incidentally, the most horrific scene in the movie. By far. When "Knife of Ice" was filmed in 1972, filmmakers were allegedly less evolved on issues of animal cruelty than they are now (or at least that's what they'd have us believe). Still, the scene left a bad taste in my mouth that lingered throughout the rest of the movie.
In this outing, Carroll Baker is cast as Martha, an artist rendered mute after surviving the railway accident that killed her parents when she was a child. Unlike the previous Baker/Lenzi efforts, Baker manages to keep her clothes on in "Knife of Ice". In fact, Martha is so prim and buttoned-down she could almost pass for a schoolmarm in an episode of "Little House On the Prairie". Martha shares a weirdly incongruous, Brady Bunch-style "villa" in the Spanish countryside with her aging, sickly uncle, Ralph (George Rigaud), and a trio of shifty servants: creepy chauffeur Marcos (Eduardo Fajardo looking eerily like Paul Birch in "Not Of This Earth"), chilly/hotsy-totsy housekeeper, Mrs. Britton (Silvia Monelli), and Rosalie (Olga Gherardi), a woman who may be the cook or the maid, but is also sometimes a dinner guest. I am not really clear what Rosalie's function is, other than to be on hand as a potential victim/killer/red herring.
Once we're past that hideous opening scene, everything seems hunky-dory as the action moves from the bull ring to the countryside: the Spanish sun is shining high and bright over snow-capped peaks, the nearby village is charming and evocative, and Carroll & Co. are all low-key and distinctly unglamorous as they go about their stable (but dull) routines. But beneath this idyllic surface, the local policia (as I may have mentioned, never the brightest in these types of movies) have their hands full with sneaky hippies from abroad who are giving dangerous drugs to the youths of the community. Additionally, there's a group of Satanists holding rituals in the cemetery and leaving sinister graffiti all over town. Since Uncle Ralph just happens to be an expert on all things occult-related (and the cemetery is right across the road from his villa), Chief Inspector Duran (Franco Fantasia--is that a great 70's porn name?) and his assistant (Lorenzo Robledo) seek him out for advice on how to track down the culprits.
By day Martha paints happily in her sunny garden, and at night enjoys dinners with Uncle Ralph, attractive, no-slave-to-fashion Dr. Laurent (Alan Scott), the parish priest (Jose Marco) and the priest's precocious, tweenish niece (Rosa M. Rodriguez). To communicate, Martha uses sign-language, although I'm not certain if it's authentic sign-language or something Lenzi and his writers cooked up for the film. When she's on the phone, Martha uses a spoon or a pen, or whatever is handy, to tap out coded messages on the receiver. Everyone in the village knows when Martha is on the phone although the doctor seems to be the only person able to accurately interpret her taps.
Into this mix comes Martha's cousin, Jenny (Evelyn Stewart), a noted singer whose arrival triggers Martha's flashback to the bullfighting episode we saw in the movie's first scene. Jenny is beautiful and vacuous, patronizing to Martha, and very bossy to the help. We want not to like Jenny, largely because she so enthusiastically relished the bull's slaughter earlier on. However, she is the only one in the movie who has a decent wardrobe (i.e., alluring 70's Euro-glam-wear) so we also kind of want to root for her. Soon after Jenny's arrival, a woman's body is found in a ditch, and then there's another brutal murder much closer to home. Inspector Duran orders the household to exercise extreme caution. The fearful occupants immediately unlock all the doors (if they bother to close them at all), throw open the windows, slip furtively up and down dark staircases and hallways without bothering to turn on the lights, and take solitary bike rides through the deep, dark woods. Oh, and there's lots and lots of fog, which I didn't know was a common occurrence in Spain, but whatever. There are also numerous thunderstorms which conveniently knock out the electricity at opportune times for the killer.
Throughout the movie, people (and animals) are killed at a pretty fast clip but that doesn't conjure up much suspense or enough sense of dread to keep audiences on the edge of their seat: "Knife of Ice" isn't exactly boring but it's not a thrill-a-minute either. Aside from the opening scene horror, there's no more blood-and-guts than you'd see in any given rerun of "Murder, She Wrote". Lenzi shies away from displaying any of the explicit human carnage fundamental to all true gialli; without that, "Knife of Ice" feels anemic, a pretender to the genre. When the murderer is finally unveiled in the climax, I have to admit that the revelation came as a surprise. However, the killer's entire raison d'etre turns out to be even more idiotic than usual for a giallo film. And that, my friend, is saying a lot. In giallo-land, there's an incredible amount of latitude one must be willing to give filmmakers for the motives they cook up to account for their killers' actions. Often, they're so over-the-top, you feel giddy from the sheer audaciousness of the creators. Not so in "Knife of Ice". The explanation is stupid, yes, but not in an odd or campy way: it's simply insipid. To be honest, I felt a little cheated, like I'd wasted an hour and a half to find out the reason for these killings was that?
I really like Lenzi's previous cinematographer, Guglielmo Mancori, but Jose Aguayo Jr. takes over the reins in "Knife of Ice" and while the Spanish scenery is beautifully captured on film, there's nothing here that generates any sense of atmosphere or mood. The photography is workmanlike, at best, and mostly unremarkable. Surprisingly for an alleged giallo, the musical score by Marcello Giombini is also completely unmemorable, so much so that I can't recall anything about it.
While Baker remains mostly silent, her performance as Martha doesn't necessarily suffer for it. Baker's acting in "Knife of Ice" is probably her best effort in these four films. Oddly, that works against the film as a whole. Carroll Baker garbed from chin to ankles is a jolting sight to behold, especially coming on the heels of the three prior films where she was hard-pressed to keep her clothes on. As Jenny, Evelyn Stewart makes a more traditional giallo heroine, slinking around the property with a fetching pout and "Brides of Dracula" nightgown. Alas, Stewart (real name: Ida Galli, a staple of giallo films) is not the heroine of "Knife of Ice" and she's on and off the screen so fast you wonder how she got co-star billing (not really, she obviously had a very good agent). The men are all shady and suspicious, each of them having the appearance of potential serial killer, bloodsucker from Planet X, or enemy of the Crown.
The ultimate problem with "Knife of Ice" is it wants to be something that it isn't. Specifically, it wants to be a giallo--hell, I wanted it to be a giallo--but, instead, it's a letdown. Yes, there are some shocks--that unfortunate opening, one death that was totally unexpected, the identity of the murderer--but the suspense just isn't there. Bad things happen but the characters plod on until the next bad thing happens and there's no build-up. Even a climax that finds Baker being menaced by an unknown figure in the dark (natch) villa lacks the expected flavor of a giallo. Without the cheap titillation of Lenzi's other Baker headliners, which might have made things more entertaining (?), "Knife of Ice" just feels sort of blah, like a missed opportunity that exploits a barbaric practice in its opening act only to suddenly turn pee-shy when things get wiggy.
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