12-30-2008, 12:01 AM
An early (1971) Italian horror flick in the "giallo" tradition.
A woman married to a boring stockbroker is tempted by a hot-blooded Australian stud and also stalked by a sadistic past lover. There are indications along the way that, despite being repulsed by the past lover, she really got into the abuse, especially the blood-letting. Add to this a razorblade killer terrorizing the city and you've got yourself a lot of action -- though frequently slowed down by women taking off all their clothes. Actually, they undress quite quickly. I've never seen women pop out of their clothes so quickly upon stepping inside their house. There's also a big party where one woman asks another if her dress is really made of paper. The answer "Yes" of course encourages a test, followed by a counter, and soon they've ripped each other's clothes off and are wrestling nude to everyone's delight.
Despite all these promising elements, I was very disappointed in the final denouement. At the slight risk of spoiling things, let me just say that crimes of passion are far more interesting than crimes done for simple monetary gain, and in this regard the whole story turned cold and empty and I felt cheated.
Possibly Doomworthy, but I'd pass. There are far better giallos out there, several by Argento (Suspiria, Deep Red, etc.).
A woman married to a boring stockbroker is tempted by a hot-blooded Australian stud and also stalked by a sadistic past lover. There are indications along the way that, despite being repulsed by the past lover, she really got into the abuse, especially the blood-letting. Add to this a razorblade killer terrorizing the city and you've got yourself a lot of action -- though frequently slowed down by women taking off all their clothes. Actually, they undress quite quickly. I've never seen women pop out of their clothes so quickly upon stepping inside their house. There's also a big party where one woman asks another if her dress is really made of paper. The answer "Yes" of course encourages a test, followed by a counter, and soon they've ripped each other's clothes off and are wrestling nude to everyone's delight.
Despite all these promising elements, I was very disappointed in the final denouement. At the slight risk of spoiling things, let me just say that crimes of passion are far more interesting than crimes done for simple monetary gain, and in this regard the whole story turned cold and empty and I felt cheated.
Possibly Doomworthy, but I'd pass. There are far better giallos out there, several by Argento (Suspiria, Deep Red, etc.).