TV Reviews

Yellow Telly: Italy’s Hitchcock Opens THE DOOR INTO DARKNESS

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DVD. Region Free. Dragon Film Entertainment. Unrated.

Over the years, Dario Argento has blown hot and cold over the “Italian Hitchcock” label that’s so often attached to him (and frankly, the worst of his post-Opera output makes comparisons with Ed Wood seem more appropriate) but his high media profile in Italy is largely down to four hour-long TV movies that he presented under the “La Porta Sul Buio” banner on RAI (the Italian equivalent of the BBC) in 1973, a clear attempt to emulate Universal’s iconic “Alfred Hitchcock Presents”, which ran between 1957 and 1962 in The States (and syndicated world-wide).

The enormous domestic viewing figures (in the region of 30 million) racked up by Argento’s mini-series are often contextualised with the observation that Italy only had two TV channels (RAI Uno and Rai Due) at the time, but in fact the playing field was even more uneven than that, as Rai Due had only recently started broadcasting and still couldn’t be picked up by more than 50% of the Italian population.

The captive audience digesting their Cena in front of the first episode on a September evening in 1973 were greeted by the spectacle of Argento, in a fetching ’70s pullover, fretting over his dead car. Aldo Reggiani (one of the doctors in Four Flies On Grey Velvet) and Laura Belli offer him a lift and after a desultory bit of conversation (Argento compliments them on the cuteness of their baby) our master of ceremonies alights and waves them off into the first episode…


“The Neighbour”

That young couple are off to spend their first night in the seaside apartment that will be their new home. It seems improbable that Belli’s character would put up with this ramshackle property, sight unseen. Even more so that Reggiani could sit up to watch a Frankenstein film when much has already been made of the fact that the apartment’s electricity is off. As for the killer upstairs, who goes out to dig a grave for his wife, whom he’s just drowned in the bath, oblivious to what the new neighbours might think of such shenanigans… well!

Despite the deficiencies in Luigi Cozzi’s script, his competent direction keeps this zero budget variation on Rear Window (whose themes Cozzi would expand into the rather excellent giallo The Killer Must Kill Again later in the same year) just about watchable, right up to a climax that’s taken straight out of the Edgar Allan Poe playbook. For anyone who didn’t spot the Hitchcock allusion, the killer is played by Spagwest heavy Mimmo Palmara (who also supervised the series’ post production sound-synching), conspicuously greyed up to look like Raymond Burr.

Il Vicino Di Casa was the second episode shot and originally planned as the broadcast follow-up to its predecessor in the shooting schedule…


… but at the last minute this order was reversed. Argento wrote and edited The Tram utilising the pseudonym “Sirio Bernadotte”, because after three theatrical features it was felt that TV directing might be construed as a retrograde step in his career. “Sirio” introduces this episode with a bit of inconsequential waffle and by bringing on Commisioner Giordani (Enzo Cerusico, who would star in Argento’s non-giallo feature Five Days In Milan the same year). The mystery facing this guy is how a woman could be stabbed to death and stuffed under the seat of a busy tram without anybody noticing. To crack it, the obsessively finger-snapping cop restages that fatal tram ride with the participation of as many of her fellow passengers as the police can trace. The solution isn’t that hard to work out (and with it, the killer’s identity) but Argento’s polished direction of The Tram makes for a more consistently engaging ride than Il Vicino Di Casa, right up to a half-assed ending which pays lip service to the suggestion that white collar criminals regularly commit worse crimes and get away with them, a theme explored with more conviction and clarity by, among others, Aldo Lado in any number of his films.

RAI’s ambivalence about the whole project, in which their desire for new cutting edge material rubbed up against their conservative instincts, is nowhere better illustrated than in their veto of any depiction of knives in the climactic stalking of Giordani’s girlfriend Giulia played by Paola Tedesco (whose blonde locks in this one make her a bit of a Barbara Bouchet looky-likey)… so instead she’s stalked with a (presumably more politically correct) meat hook! If this character’s name hasn’t already clued you in, the whole episode is an expansion of a scene cut from the screenplay for The Bird With The Crystal Plumage (1970). Likewise…


… the third episode (whose introductory section, in which Argento quizzes a fat cop about the most colourful cases he’s ever conducted, suggests it was originally conceived as the series closer) is a stripped down version of plot and themes from the recently wrapped Four Flies On Grey Velvet. Argento rewarded his long-term assistant Roberto Pariante with the direction of The Eye Witness but the dailies apparently revealed that he had been promoted beyond his competence and after a few days Argento enlisted Cozzi (his co-writer on this section) to reshoot Pariante’s existing footage while he handled the remaining scenes. In the finished article (still officially credited to Pariante), Liz Taylor clone Marilù Tolo (with whom Argento promptly embarked upon a two-year affair) is driving home late one night when a stabbed woman staggers out in front of her car. Our heroine calls the cops but by the time they arrive, there is no sign of the corpse. Is Marilù losing the plot or is somebody (maybe her apparently devoted husband?) trying to drive her bonkers? Anyone who’s seen Four Flies On Grey Velvet will have little difficulty in supplying the answer…

RAI insider Mario Foglietti (who co-wrote Four Flies with Argento and Cozzi) was given a rare chance to direct on the final  episode to be broadcast, which he co-wrote with Marcella Elsberger…


The Doll

This one kicks off with a dangerous schizo absconding from a medical unit, all rendered via the nutcase’s POV. In fact throughout, Foglietti deploys techniques from Argento’s bag of visual tricks in the service of a bloodless thriller (the murder of genre icon Erika Blanc in an iconic fashion house setting plays out as a disappointingly stylised, anaemic affair) that runs more on existential angst than violence. This depressing giallo tendency would reach its nadir in Umberto Lenzi’s Spasmo the following year and anyone who’s ever suffered through that one will break out in a cold sweat when they clock the presence here of its star Robert Hoffman, stalking Mara Venier with apparent psychotic intent, though you’d have to be pretty slow on the uptake not to spot the climactic narrative switcheroo coming. I particularly cherished the deployment of police resources in this episode, i.e. the chief investigating officer is driven up and down the high street observing pedestrians in the hope that he’ll spot his quarry!


Giorgio Gaslini scores all the episodes with Morricone-esque suspenseful flurries and for the main series theme, stabbing, Emersonesque piano passages. Each instalment is passably presented (the original elements having long disappeared) on this 2004 double disc set from German outfit Dragon. Interviews with Luigi Cozzi give the background to the series and introduce each episode individually. For the authentic experience, he requests that the viewer watch La Porta Sul Buio in black and white, as broadcast, rather than colour (as shot and presented here).


Possibly conceived as a goodbye to the giallo (before the failure of Argento’s projected breakout feature Five Days In Milan sent him back to the genre, with Deep Red and Tenebrae to come), La Porta Sul Buio is a historically interesting but compromised affair, part of whose historical interest resides in the very compromises that it had to make. Its episodes are a lot more watchable (on every level barring that of kitschy trash) than the vignettes Argento (and Lamberto Bava) contributed to RAI’s short-lived (October 1987 to January ’88) TV game show Giallo.

Devised and hosted by veteran presenter Enzo Tortora (coming back after his acquittal in a notorious drugs case) and broadcast in a much more heterogeneous and competitive, post-Berlusconi Italian TV environment, Giallo was an indigestible concoction of game show (contestants had to guess the killer) and chat show (a surviving clip shows Dario interviewing a tangibly listless post-Roger Waters Pink Floyd), with glamorous hostesses thrown in for good measure but regrettably no sign of Dusty Bin.


No “Sirio Bernadotte” subterfuge, this time out, for a director whose career after Opera would consist of nothing but retrograde steps…

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“A Literal Tornado Of Teeth”… DEADLIEST WARRIOR: VAMPIRES Vs ZOMBIES reviewed

Jello Man

Many’s the long Winter evening that Mrs F (Tess to her friends… Mrs Freudstein to you) and I have whiled away here at The House Of Freudstein, watching total garbage on Sky TV. Forgive And Forget with Mother Love… My 600-lb Life… 1000 Ways To Die… Ghost Hunting With The Happy Mondays… Beyond Belief: Fact Or Fiction with Jonathan Frakes… Monsters Inside Me… Ru Paul’s Drag Race… the list goes on and on… and on. One of our very favourite ways, though, to waste an hour of our legally conjoined lives, has been Deadliest Warrior, in which a team of over-excited nitwit presenters pit historical characters against each other in hypothetical combat, with modern technology evaluating the relative deadliness of their weaponry and a computer simulator ultimately deciding who’s… well, the deadliest warrior. It’s vicariously violent fantasy football for sedentary sofa spud sadists. Indeed, the deadliest barb we Freudsteins (masters of pedantry) could aim at our screen has been a sneering insistence that, on grammatical grounds, the show should really be known as Deadlier Warrior.

Certainly so for most of the first season, whose episodes bore the self-explanatory titles Apache vs. Gladiator, Viking vs. Samurai, Spartan vs. Ninja, Pirate vs. Knight, Shaolin Monk vs. Maori Warrior and, of course, William Wallace vs. Shaka Zulu. Things got more grammatically correct, if no less ludicrous, as the season progressed and our hysterical hosts got to whoop and wet themselves over tag-team match ups between members of the Yakuza and the Mafia, Green Beret and Russian  Spetznaz forces and, most controversially, the IRA and the Taliban. The late lamented Bravo channel, which aired seasons 1 & 2 of Deadliest Warriror, opted to lose that particular episode in the shuffle (in case you’re wondering, the Paddies shaded it.)


Season Two continued to alternate two man duels with mob match-ups, its episodes comprising SWAT vs. GSG-9, Attila The Hun vs. Alexander The Great, Jesse James vs. Al Capone, Aztec Jaguar vs. Zande WarriorNazi Waffen-SS vs. Viet Cong, Roman Centurion vs. Rajput Warrior, Somali Pirate vs. Medellin Cartel, Persian Immortal vs. Celt, KGB vs. CIA, Vlad the Impaler vs. Sun Tzu, Ming Warrior vs. Musketeer, Comanche vs. Mongol and Navy Seal vs. Israeli Commando. You haven’t lived until you’ve seen Sun Tsu with a pole stuck up his arse… and he hasn‘t lived since it was inserted!


Things got a little more… er, fanciful in Season Three. Tru TV have been sporadically airing select episodes, including the one under consideration here. Self declared authorities such as Scott Bowen (“author of cult classic The Vampire Survival Guide”) and Matt Mogk (“founder of The Zombie Research Society”) advise the team on what factors to feed into their computer and their sage advice includes the news that vampires are not susceptible to crucifixes, garlic or daylight (since when?), are “approximately 6 times stronger than an elite athlete (sez you!) and boast Freddy Krueger-style kill claws in lieu of fingers (WTF?) Clearly, the fix is in… I mean, nowhere is it mentioned that a zombie took on a great white shark in Zombie Flesh Eaters and whipped the ocean bed with it (program THAT into your fucking stupid computer, I dare you!) The team does concede that a zombie attack would be akin to “a literal tornado of teeth” and to establish the fairest ratio of fast moving vampires against numerically superior zombies, some kung fu doofus is tasked with chopping and kicking a bunch of paper bags on strings, with pictures of zombies drawn on them. By dint of this rigorous scientific methodology, they calculate that it would be appropriate to pit deadheads against bloodsuckers in the ratio of 74 to one.


“You lookin’ at me?”

In their deliberations about the deadliness of “zombie virus” the team digresses into a discussion of swine flu, before concluding that vampires won’t be affected by it because “it’s already been proven that they can overcome bubonic plague” (did I fall asleep during that bit?) Elsewhere volunteers rip apart a jello torso with their “zombie hands” (which look exactly like regular hands) and some fool dices with death by annoying an alligator (don’t ask me!) When all this nonsense is fed into the computer it generates a short film in which 3 vampires and 216 zombies wage a battle of attrition which concludes with the final vampire seeing off the ultimate zombie, only to succumb to its bite and become a zombie himself. Some will see this as a fudged result right up there with the scandalous King Kong Vs Godzilla draw that shamed the manly / monsterly sport of mortal combat in 1962. Others may detect an allusion to the identity transfer that concludes Roeg and Cammell’s Performance (1970.) Either way, the final screen credit promises that this particular tussle is “… to be continued!”

If only t’were so… Deadliest Warrior was pulled in 2011. It didn’t exactly help that one of its Green Beret advisors turned out to have only served in a backroom capacity. Pity… if the show had gone on long enough, it might well have solved a long running dispute me and my mate Tony, over who would come out on top in an altercation between Judge Dredd and Captain Scarlet.


“Did you call my pint a puff, like?”

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