Perché quelle strane gocce di sangue sul corpo di Jennifer? (1972)

... aka: Case of the Bloody Iris, The
... aka: Erotic Blue
... aka: Lágrimas de Jennifer, Las (The Tears of Jennifer)
... aka: Rendez-vous avec la mort (Appointment with Death)
... aka: What Are Those Strange Drops of Blood Doing on Jennifer's Body?
... aka: Why Are Those Strange Drops of Blood on the Body of Jennifer?

Directed by:
"Anthony Ascott" (Giuliano Carnimeo)

In a high rise apartment building, a miniskirt-clad "high class hustler" (Evi Farinelli) is stabbed and slashed to death by a gloved maniac while on an elevator in a scene some viewers have likened to a more famous sequence in Brian De Palma's Dressed to Kill (1980). Both feature ladies getting killed in an elevator by a psycho whose identity has yet to be revealed immediately after having sex. The difference? Well, one features actual suspense leading up to the murder, the element of surprise about a would-be lead character being unceremoniously dispatched earlier than viewers anticipate and is well-edited and beautifully shot and scored, while the other is, well, none of the above. I'll leave it up to you to decide which is which. 

After the murder, three tenants living on the top floor; retired university music professor Mr. Isaacs (George Rigaud), elderly war widow Mrs. Moss (Maria Tedeschi) and nightclub performer / stripper Mizar Harrington (Carla Brait), discover the body and none seem overly concerned about it ("I gotta go now. Gotta be at rehearsal in an hour!") Meanwhile, at a photography studio, flamboyant fashion photographer / modeling agent Arthur (Oreste Lionello) is busy shooting topless photos while barking out orders in an annoyingly stereotypical queeny / whiny voice. Architect Andrea Barto (the handsome but flagrantly untalented George Hilton) shows up looking for a model to use in a campaign and Arthur suggests Mizar. Why? Well, according to him it's because she's "black... but not too black." While there, Andrea bumps into the photogenic though troubled model Jennifer Lansbury (Edwige Fenech; the then-girlfriend of producer Luciano Martino), who's just recently fled from a sex cult. The two immediately become smitten with one another.

Later that night, Andrea goes to Mizar's nightclub to watch her routine, which involves wrestling men in a frilly bikini for three minutes. If the male wins he can take her right then and there in front of the other guests. If she wins, well, I guess she's earned her paycheck. Sounds like a fair trade-off to me. Andrea doesn't get a chance to talk to her about his business proposal that night, nor does he get to talk to her the following night after she's tied up and drown in her bathtub. Now with a vacant unit, Andrea (coincidentally also the owner of the building) hooks Jennifer and her bimbo model friend Marilyn (Paola Quattrini) up with a new place to stay. I don't know about you, but I'd be a little leery moving into a apartment where two women were just murdered by a maniac still on the loose, but neither seem to really mind. 

Their first night there, Jennifer is awoken in her sleep by the psycho's hands wrapped around her throat but he miraculously disappears right afterward. Time to move yet? Nope. Go to the police? Can't have that. Not only is there a killer on loose, but Adam (Ben Carra), Jennifer's red herring "celestial husband" from her sex cult days shows up, threatens her with a syringe, breaks into her apartment, rips her clothes off and tries to rape her. Move? Police? No and no. It isn't until Jennifer is almost raped a second time, killed a third time and she finds Adam dead in her closet with a knife sticking in his stomach that she finally goes to the cops. And when she does, the Commissioner (Giampiero Albertini) promptly informs her "I'd like you to keep living in that house... but I'm sure it would be worth the risk." Oh please!

As par for the course in these films, nearly everyone is made out to be a suspect by the most idiotic means imaginable until they get bumped off. Andrea is something of a pathological liar. He owns the apartment where the murders are taking place but claims he's never actually been inside the building before (seriously?), then later contradicts himself. He lies about not knowing Mizar (who is referred to primarily as "that negro girl" by the cast after her murder), but previously had gone out to dinner with her. During another scene, Andrea hauls off and violently slaps Marilyn in the face for simply trying to scare him, which doesn't seem to bother her all that much since she's chipper and bubbly a second later. Andrea also claims to have a "phobia of blood," so he can't be the killer, right? Uh huh.

Jennifer and Marilyn's new neighbors are all weirdos. Mrs. Moss has a thing for gory horror magazines and can be heard talking to someone through the walls, though she claims to live alone. Professor Isaacs happens to own the same coat as the killer and seems to always be entering and exiting his apartment right after the murders. Isaacs' lesbian daughter Sheila (Annabella Incontrera) is also around trying to hit on anything in a skirt. Like many other films from this era, this seems to be trying to equate homosexuality with mental disorder by making Sheila out to be a suspect simply because of her sexuality. A lot of time is also wasted on the Commissioner, who steals mail from the crime scenes for his stamp collection (what a pro!) and his goofy sidekick Lorenzi (Franco Agostini), who's around primarily for comic relief.

Perhaps as much as any other movie in its subgenre, Bloody Iris is going to appeal only to diehard and very forgiving giallo fans. It's hard to tell how big of a role the horrid English-language dubbing plays in its idiocy, but the acting, plot and dialogue are all amazingly terrible. After she's stalked, assaulted multiple times and nearly raped and murdered, Andrea nonchalantly encourages Jennifer to "Try to put the whole thing out of your mind." Yeah, sure. I'd even be able to forgive many of these dumb-dumb moments if this contained good music, creative camerawork, lots of sleaze or an interesting story, but the film is also sorely lacking in those areas, too. Though the photography is competent, it's never especially colorful or creative. One 360 degree spin around a room, constant zooms and a kaleidoscope shot during a flashback sequence are hardly anything new. Bruno Nicolai's score is both repetitive (the same track seems to loop endlessly over and over again) and too upbeat; extinguishing any chance for suspense or terror... not that the dialogue and "comedy" didn't already do that. The sleaze quotient is minimal. Violence is mild even for this subgenre and though there are some classy unclothed shots of the beautiful Fenech, you can see her nude - and more nude than she is here - in many other, better-made films.

Worst of all is this film's astounding disregard for coherence and basic logic. I know many horror films, particularly of this type (or the later slasher flicks) are burdened by idiotic plots and moronic character actions that we are supposed to just ignore, but this one is just plain insulting to anyone's intelligence. Aside from what's already been mentioned, there's a stabbing in broad daylight in a crowded public square that no one seems to even notice until the victim keels over dead in the street. Andrea just happens to be there and the victim randomly happens to stumble right into him and rub blood all over his jacket. Andrea also just happens to be in the apartment's boiler room when another murder occurs. When Jennifer wants to break into a neighbor's apartment, she simply uses her apartment key to access theirs (!?) When she visits a junkyard, a door opens by itself, a hood shuts by itself and a 2000 pound car topples off a stack of other cars all by itself for no apparent reason aside from the director's desperation to provide some cheap jump scares. At the end, Jennifer randomly hits buttons to stop an audio tape and ends up accidentally hitting the record button so that the killer's entire confession is taped. How convenient! These moments of ridiculous coincidence just keep occurring over and over again right up to the finale, when the psycho's identity is revealed and he/ she claims to have killed to "protect" another character... a character they've already killed!

Originally titled Perché quelle strane gocce di sangue sul corpo di Jennifer? ("What Are Those Strange Drops of Blood Doing on Jennifer's Body?"), Bloody Iris was issued on a giallo box set by Anchor Bay, which also includes the films Short Night of the Glass Dolls (1971), Who Saw Her Die? (1972), both from director Aldo Lado, and Antonio Bido's The Bloodstained Shadow (1978). Director Carnimeo (known primarily for spaghetti westerns) also made the subpar Ratman (1987).

★1/2

L'occhio dietro la parete (1977)

... aka: Crystal Man, The
... aka: Entrega, La (The Delivery)
... aka: Eyes Behind the Wall
... aka: Voyeur Pervers (Perverse Voyeur)

Directed by:
Giuliano Petrelli

Ivano (Fernando Rey) is a rich, wheelchair-bound writer in need of some inspiration just as much as his much-younger, sexually-neglected wife Olga (Olga Bisera) is in need of some male companionship. The couple have rented an apartment on their property to self-destructive loner Arturo (John Phillip Law); an eccentric man they hand-picked because of his good looks and the aura of mystery surrounding him. Using some strange electronic periscope device, the two are able to spy on their new tenant and get their vicarious jollies that way, but both want to go even further than mere spying. Ivano would like to discover what makes this "strange animal" tick to get him out of his creative slump and Olga, who initially feels a little guilty about intruding on this stranger's life, finds herself excited by the prospect of stalking Arturo and breaking into his apartment while he's away to gather "evidence." Together, the two question his "avant garde" musical tastes, catalogue all of his books and snoop through his belongings, but aren't able to really come up with anything. At her husband's behest and encouragement, Olga eventually sets out to befriend and then seduce the sexually-confused Arturo. The kinky couple probably wouldn't have bothered had they seen him strangling a woman aboard a train in the pre-credits sequence...

Often lumped together with numerous other Italian horror films and mysteries from this time in the giallo sub-genre, this psycho-drama doesn't really fit the giallo mold at all. There's almost no action, no blood or gore, no suspense thrills, no real mystery element, no police investigation and no pronounced visual style. Hell, it doesn't even really have a killer. Sure, Arturo is seen murdering one girl during the opening sequence but this scene appears to have been grafted on simply to ensure this otherwise hard-to-categorize effort could play as a horror-thriller. The murder ends up having nothing to do with the real plot and actually contradicts the Arturo we see the rest of the time, who is passive, timid and shows no signs of homicidal urges at any later point in the film. The psychology of this character is so screwy and inconsistent it would give Freud pause! That said, Eyes is an entertaining film that I had absolutely no issue sitting through. There's nothing wrong with wanting some good, (un)clean pervy fun and this provides that in spades. It's also often quite surprising at times. Just how surprising? Read on...

There's one sequence of events in particular that's pretty atypical for the time that literally had my jaw on the floor. After Arturo leaves a restaurant, he's trailed by Joe (Jho Jhenkins), a black guy dressed in a one-piece denim jumper who follows him down the street and onto a bus. The film then cuts to a dance club and Joe is cutting it loose to a horrid song called "Disco Boogie" while a frizzy-haired female extra strips off all her clothes in front of the crowd while doing the Saturday Night Fever thing. Arturo and Joe then head back to his pad, where the two start getting a little touchy-feely. Next thing we know Arturo is bent over the couch screaming while getting plowed by the presumably well-endowed new buddy! I've seen some people call this a "gay rape" scene, but everything leading up to it seemed pretty damn consensual to me. Ivano and Olga watch the whole thing play out from home and, strangely enough, it is he who seems most interested in actually watching it and he even has to force his wife to look! Ivano later defends homosexuality while Olga acts appalled by it, though it's later made clear that's not so much because she has an actual problem with gays but because she has begun to desire their tenant herself.

Voyeurism and gay sex not enough to pique your interests? Well then let me discuss Ottavio (José Quaglio), the home's chauffeur / cook / butler. Ottavio is himself a disturbed peeping tom and likes to peak through keyholes while the female half of his employ is taking a bath. He also has a life-sized photo of Olga's head on a life-size paper doll body dressed in black lingerie plastered on the inside of his closet door that he likes to make out with, practice his oral sex skills out on and frustratingly punches in the vagina when he gets upset! Olga later catches the butler retrieving her pubic hair from the bathtub drain and then sniffing it, so she slaps the shit out of him while screaming "You disgusting idiot!" Ottavio also has a strange relationship with a (retarded?!) teenage girl in the neighborhood named Lucilla (Mónica Zanchi). He's first seen chasing her around and forcibly stripping off her panties while she screams and struggles to get free. Next time Lucilla turns up, she's calmly sitting on Ottavio's bed without any pants or underwear on and cheerfully goes down on him after he feeds her what we can presume is a little chocolate ball containing clumps of Olga's pubic hair (!?!) that he keeps hidden in his closet.

After a flashback revealing how Ivano ended up in his wheelchair and his son (Roberto Posse) ended up dead, as well as a not-all-that-shocking incest revelation, things pretty much end on a downbeat whimper in a horribly-photographed final sequence sure to have you muttering "meh" under your breath. I have absolutely no clue what the director was trying to say with this film if anything at all. While I did find the film itself interesting (particularly the relationship between Ivano and Olga), the character of Arturo is severely underdeveloped, the character of Ottavio is simply there to enhance the sexual eccentricities, up the shock value and eat up time (the entire film runs just 75 minutes) and the whole thing seems like little more than an opportunity to showcase every kink, alternate sexuality, sexual deviation and / or perversity known to man without adequately actually exploring these themes. There's a couple of soft sex scenes and a generous amount of equal opportunity nudity throughout (even Law goes full frontal during a hilarious nude workout sequence including close-ups of his penis as he jogs in place and does squats and push-ups).

Not surprisingly, the film went unreleased here in America, though it did achieve distribution in Italy, France (as Voyeur Pervers = "Perverse Voyeur") and in some Spanish-speaking countries (as La entrega = "The Delivery"). A soundtrack album by Giuseppe "Pippo" Caruso was also issued. It was the sole directorial credit for Petrelli, who otherwise only has a handful of small acting roles to his credit. Rumor has it he unsuccessfully tried to get his name removed from the credits before release. It wasn't long after that he permanently disappeared from film 

★★★

Cat Creature, The (1973)

Directed by:
Curtis Harrington

In a cheeky bit of casting, Kent Smith (star of the Val Lewton-produced classics Cat People [1942] and The Curse of the Cat People [1944], which this deliberately pays tribute to) shows up at a gloomy mansion late one night to do an appraisal of the late Hiram Drake's "secret collection" of Egyptian artifacts. He goes down to the cellar, cracks open a sarcophagus and finds a mummy with a large, solid gold medallion that has a cat's face on it and emeralds for eyes. Unbeknownst to the appraiser, thief Joe Sung (Keye Luke) is already hiding in the mansion. He swipes the medallion and takes off; awakening an ancient evil in the process. The appraiser  is promptly attacked and killed by what appears to be a domesticated cat. Joe immediately goes to "The Sorcerer's Shop;" an occult-themed antique store, to try to sell his new acquisition. The shop's owner, Hester Black (Gale Sondergaard), suspects it has been stolen and passes on a purchase. After Joe leaves, Hester's sales clerk Sherry Hastings (Renee Jarrett) heads out the door and begins to walk home when she runs across a black cat. She takes it home with her, where it passes on milk and then hypnotizes her and makes her jump off her balcony.

Lt. Marco (Stuart Whitman) is put in charge of investigating the appraiser's death and calls a local university for help. Instead of the Egyptologist he wanted, he gets archeology professor Roger Edmonds (David Hedison). Both the mummy and the amulet are missing from the crime scene, but claw marks are found on some of the artifacts and autopsy reports reveal that the victim died of a throat wound made by teeth and claws and that cat hair was found on the body. Roger notices that symbols on the coffin belong to a sect of ancient Egyptians who worshipped "Vaast, the great cat goddess." Rumor has it their priests even had the ability to turn into cats themselves. Meanwhile, at Hester's shop, shy loner Rena Carter (Meredith Baxter) shows up looking for work and is hired on as Hester's new sales girl. Roger becomes involved with her while more people mysteriously turn up dead... and curiously low on blood.

This seldom-viewed made-for-ABC-TV movie (which has never seen the light of day on VHS or DVD here in America) has some things going for it, including a reasonably good cast and a fairly interesting plot devised by writer Robert Bloch (of Psycho fame), which draws many parallels between mummies and vampires. Both must drink blood to sustain their lives and remain immortal, both can transform into animals (a bat for the vampire, a cat for the mummy) and the amulet around the neck functions much like a stake through the heart would a vampire; remove either and you resurrect it. Of course, a small domesticated cat attacking and killing people is a tough thing to pull off without causing chuckles from the audience, so the director decided to show most of that in shadow only, which turns out to be a wise decision.

In small roles are Milton Parsons as a cadaverous coroner, John Carradine (in just one brief scene alongside a dwarf prostitute!) as a hotel clerk, John Abbott as a librarian and Virgil Frye. Also turning up as a pawnbroker who gets stabbed is a guy who called himself "Peter Lorre Jr." Born in Germany as Eugene Weingand, Lorre Jr. emigrated to America at age 20 and was not in any way related to famous actor Peter Lorre. He went to court to try to change his name legally, but was denied his request. After Lorre died, Weingand began using the name professionally anyway and even went around claiming to be the late Lorre's son.

★★1/2