Ha Ha Ha… Boom Boom! * THE FOX WITH THE VELVET TAIL Reviewed

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* With apologies to those who are too young to remember Basil Brush (you poor bastards…)

(As “In The Eye Of The Hurricane”). BD. Region B. 88 Films. 18.

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Can the Spanish do giallo? Sundry senors have had a go at in on various occasions, with approaches ranging from León Klimovsky’s on-the-nose A Dragonfly For Each Corpse (1975) to Pedro Almodóvar’s postmodern Matador (1986… that’s postmodern as in “featuring a serial killer who masturbates over a quota conscious compilation of gore highlights from Bava’s Blood And Black Lace and Jess Franco’s Bloody Moon”) and of course many films thought of as spaghetti slashers were actually Italo / Spanish co-productions, e.g. Mario Bava’s Hatchet For The Honeymoon (1970), Sergio Martino’s The Strange Vice Of Mrs Wardh (1971), Umberto Lenzi’s Eyeball (1975)… and the title under consideration here.

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Viewers attracted to José Maria Forqué’s The Fox With The Velvet Tail / In The Eye Of The Hurricane by some perceived connection with Dario Argento’s international thriller hit The Bird With The Crystal Plumage (1970) might well have been perplexed by its relative bloodlessness and low body count (one man and his poisoned dog)… but only if the presence of Jean Sorel in its cast had not already alerted them to the fact that Forqué is here following the pre-BWTCP bonkbusting template set down by the likes of Romolo Guerrieri’s The Sweet Body Of Deborah (1968) and Umberto Lenzi’s A Quiet Place To Kill (1971) in both of which Sorel had taken the male lead, daring viewers to guess whether his bland, masculine good looks conceal nefarious intentions or whether (as in Lucio Fulci’s Perversion Story, 1969) there’s a double bluff going on and there really is nothing more than an ineffectual numpty lurking beneath that smooth exterior.

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Bland? Numpty? Moi?

Carroll Baker, Sorel’s usual foil from those films is missing here but Argentinian substitute Analía Gadé brings the same qualities that she did… a good looking woman who’s vulnerable and possibly a little past her physical prime, an observation I make not to indulge petty sexist prejudices but to underscore the appropriateness of her casting as Ruth, a woman rebounding from her apparently steady but unsatisfying husband Michel (“Miguel” in some releases… played by Tony “Return Of The Evil Dead” Kendall) into the arms of Sorel’s exciting, edgy Paul, who spirits her away to an exclusive coastal resort for the time of her life (what’s left of it!)

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The subsequent accumulation of luxury detail (pet swans, not to mention swan sculptures stuffed with caviar… exclusive disco dates, et al) is a tale told at a pretty langourous pace. We’re half an hour in before Ruth’s brakes have been tampered with, leading to a white knuckle ride down the side of a mountain road. At this point in a typical Sergio Martino giallo, Edwige Fenech would have taken at least three showers and been menaced by various permutations of several would be assassins, sex cases and people who’ve taken out insurance policies on her. Forqué steps up the pace immediately thereafter, though, with a sequence involving sabotaged scuba diving gear… is somebody trying to kill her? Or to kill Paul?

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Miguel pays them a visit and immediately falls under suspicion, but what about Paul’s mysterious “war buddy” Roland (Maurizio Bonuglia)… and just what exactly is Daniella (Rosanna Yanni), the sunbathing bimbo from next door, up to? Turns out, when Ruth eavesdrops on the rest of the cast (during an unfortunate outbreak of mass indiscretion) that just about all of them are planning to do her in and divide her estate before she can divorce Michel … all of this only about half way through the film’s running time, but rest assured that from here on in things start getting really complicated… and not a little kinky. Needless to say, there are several twists on route to the ambiguous conclusion of this tawdry tail. Special mention for a great performance from Sorel, whose character seems to degenerate before our very eyes as the seamy, steamy plot details unfold.

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Forqué clearly has a painterly eye for compositions and a pleasing facility with lurid colour palettes. The film’s various scrumptious Spainsh and Italian locations are beautifully rendered by co-directors of photography Giovanno Bergamini and Alejandro Ulloa if, indeed, you believe that they both worked on the picture. Was this anything more than quota satisfying fiction? Maybe one of them handled the undersea photography? Whatever, 88 (some of whose transfers have drawn criticism) do a spanky job presenting the main feature here. Piero Piccioni compliments the overwrought visuals with an appropriately lush OST, the high point of which is a (sadly unidentified) pastiche of Woolworth’s Warwick warbling ersatz Bacharach.

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Extras include a trailer, reversible sleeve, alternative titles and credit sequence, plus a silent “clothed” version of one love scene. “No sound, no T&A, no point!” you’re probably thinking (you uncouth bunch!) and while Forquée goes through the glossy gears efficiently enough, TFWTVT – seamy, steamy and swinging as it is – might well leave you hankering for something a little more sleazily transgressive. If so, tune into Parts 2 & 3 of this Spanish-themed Weekender for a double dose of louche Larraz lunacy…

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Hung up down snogging didn’t start in Sam Raimi’s Spiderman. No Siree, Bob..

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