The last month or so, I like to think that here on ye old blog, we’ve gone in some interesting and different directions. I went into some small detail on the Halloween performance I was recently involved in which, while not exactly “horror,” certainly played with horror elements. I dug into my own personal history with the genre, trying to reconstruct the stepping stones that led me here. I took a look at a little seen Romero gem with occult overtones. And before that, I finally got to tick one more film off my (admittedly pretty short) list of Polish Horror movies. But something all of these posts share is that none of them really tackled a bona fide “Horror Movie” with a capital HOR. Something to make you shiver with fear or retch with disgust, something to crack the brain open with the unbearable weight of its sheer awfulness. And so, I think it’s a good time to examine the work of a director who really did his very best to do exactly those things; let’s spend a bit of time with Lucio Fulci.
That said, my exposure to his work has been somewhat limited. I absolutely love the grotty, doom infused, shark fighting, tropical holiday of Zombi 2 (1979) (which I wrote about here). I appreciate the sleazy, lurid, violent charms of The New York Ripper (1982) (which I’ve touched on briefly before). And what horror fan could resist the atmosphere, the grotesquerie, the nightmare logic, and the ‘oh-dear-god-how-is-he-doing-that?!?’ gore of his Lovecraftian Gates of Hell Trilogy: The City of the Living Dead (1980), The Beyond (1981), and The House by the Cemetery (1981)? But those five movies, all of which have made a deep, lasting impression on me, only represent less than a quarter of his horror movies (to be fair, they are also counted among his best by many fans – and I’ve heard pretty bad things about what some consider his worst). Still, I’d like to use this week to expand my knowledge of this idiosyncratic Italian who made some of the most effective, difficult, and really creepy films of the genre.
Working chronologically, I’m going to focus on his earlier works from the 70s, three films that I’ve long meant to see. As far as I can tell, they all come recommended, but I must admit I’m going in somewhat blind. And so, without further ado, let’s get into…
A Lizard in a Woman’s Skin (1971)
After that introduction, it seems ironic to start by saying that this early thriller is not exactly a horror flick. Rather, Fulci really embraces the slick, stylish, bold film making of the giallo and this film bears more resemblance to Sergio Martino’s All the Colors of the Dark (especially with the spooky dream sequences) or The Strange Vice of Mrs. Wardh (both also from 1971) than to Fulci’s supernatural horror work in the 80s. It’s worth noting that over the course of his career, he worked in many genres; about half his films were horror, but he also made more than 30 westerns, sci-fi movies, musicals, erotic thrillers, and sex comedies. Still, this one is a vastly enjoyable, captivating piece; I think you can find seeds here of the kinds of films he would later create; and while it is not a horror film exactly, it does contain some startling or unsettling moments. Also, it’s got a great score by Ennio Morricone.
Very briefly, the film follows Carol, a rich but repressed upper class woman who is haunted by disturbing, sexual dreams of her wild, free-loving neighbor, Julia. It’s unclear whether she is offended by the other woman’s libertine ways or jealous of them, but she is certainly agitated by Julia and the wild parties she often throws next door. Finally, in one of her dreams, as they make love, Carol stabs Julia repeatedly in the breast. Of course, it’s soon revealed that the dreamt of neighbor has actually been murdered in just such a fashion and it’s off to the races to ferret out who the actual killer was. In its plotting, this is very similar to other gialli I’ve seen – there are twists on top of twists on top of twists and by the end of the movie, it’s easy to get lost in all of the betrayals and revelations. But I really don’t think you come to a movie like this for the story. This is an audacious, stylish piece, and with its constant blurring of the line between dream and waking life, it seems right in Fulci’s surreal, unsettling wheelhouse.
Much time is spent in the beginning with Carol’s dreams, dwelling alternatingly in the erotic and a sense of dread or terror: she pushes her way through a crowded train, running from or toward something, the other riders sometimes simple commuters and sometimes naked in a white room, partaking of an orgy; Julia’s bed is a blotch of red in an inky abyss; two naked hippies with white, pupil-less eyes watch and laugh from the balcony; a giant swan chases her across a field; her dead and rotting family track her progress. But even after the dreams cease, Carol still inhabits a hallucinogenic space, and it’s not always clear what is happening or why. The camera offers surprising views, shooting from odd angles and frequently playing with focus, forced perspective, and framing. The editing can be similarly intense, in one moment rapidly cutting back and forth in an almost strobe-like effect between Carol trying to escape a room and a door on the other side being kicked in.
Everything is infused with unreality. Is she actually being chased in waking life by a figure from one of her dreams? Did she commit a murder and not remember it? Why on earth is there a lab in the peaceful mental facility where she awaits trial in which they are experimenting on dogs like something out of Return of the Living Dead Part III, their torsos cut open but their visible hearts still pumping? (apparently, Fulci was arrested on charges of animal cruelty and his special effects artist had to bring the dog puppets into court to demonstrate how this had been filmed.) Real horrors of the waking world can thus be more horrific than her dreams. And they go just as unexplained.
While the mod stylishness is certainly foregrounded, as it often was in other gialli, and the plotting is kind of standard for this kind of movie, the sometimes nightmarish dreamy quality of the proceedings, accompanied by some gory or just bafflingly strange moments, really points to the interest in horror that Fulci would later pursue. The balance of surreality and tactility, the abstract, showy film making (including a De Palma-esque split screen sequence), and the totally visceral fleshiness all contribute to an uncanny viewing experience such that I was both pulled into the twists and turns of the story and periodically a bit unsettled. It’s a really engaging example of the giallo thriller and I think it’s fascinating to view in the context of Fulci’s larger ouvre.
Don’t Torture a Duckling (1972)
This is referred to as a giallo, but while it does follow the typical pattern of murder investigation and red herrings, it feels really quite different. Set in a dusty, remote Italian village, this purported thriller-horror-mystery initially seems to have more in common with Fellini’s Amarcord (1973) than with anything Argento, Bava, or Martino were doing at the time, that is if Amarcord had been full of child murder and witch abuse. The filmmaking is still striking in its intensity, its sharp angles, its creation of a mood, but long gone is any stylishness of setting, costume, or character. We start the film following three young boys as they mischievously get into whatever trouble they can in this small Italian town under the view of a modern highway, the temptations of the modern world out there, but out of reach. One by one, these boys, and then a few others, all end up dead: strangled, smothered, and drowned.
A massive police case gets underway; the press descend on the village; and most significantly for the story, the population of this quaint little town all turn on a few outsiders who are, one after another, blamed for these deaths: the town simpleton, a witch who lives on the outskirts, an old hermit. Interestingly, all of the child murders take place off screen, but the violence done by the townspeople is genuinely horrific, and I feel like that is rather the point. Much of the film feels less like horror than a dramatic crime story about a series of killings tearing a town apart, but one scene stands out, cementing the film in the genre with what I understand is Fulci’s first foray into explicit gore.
Perhaps this is a good point for a spoiler warning – if you think you might want to watch the movie, go do that now – it’s streaming free on Tubi.
Magiara (Florinda Bolkan, Carol in A Lizard in a Woman’s Skin), a witch who lives on the edge of the community has been seen throughout the first half of the movie engaged in some kind of black magic with an infant’s bones, wax figures representing the three boys who are killed first, and voodoo-esque pins. After the police suspect she may have something to do with this, they chase her down with dogs, and question her. No interrogation is needed as she readily confesses to killing the boys with witchcraft in revenge for them disturbing her child’s grave. Convinced of her actual innocence (magic not being real, of course), the police release her, only for her to be immediately attacked in the cemetery by men from the village. They brutally beat her with sticks and chains, tearing her skin, rending her flesh. The makeup effects are deeply affecting – for all that Fulci’s films would go on to be favorites of gorehounds, there is nothing fun here. The severity of the violence done on behalf of the village to Magiara is hard to watch, ugly, and depressing. After they leave her for dead, she crawls to the side of the highway, and cars speed past as she collapses on the side of the road. If she isn’t dealt cruelty, she is met with indifference.
And while the film started lightly with the playful troublemaking of the three boys, it becomes clear that this is not a good place and these are not good people. In fact, one of the protagonists of the movie, Patrizia, is a drug addict and seems to be a pedophile, having been introduced nude and teasing/tempting one of the boys. Later she offers to pay another boy (soon to be a victim) with a kiss, and we also see her aggressively dragging a young, developmentally disabled girl, screaming across the town square so she can buy her a new doll. Much of this may exist just to make a red herring of this otherwise attractive young woman, but really, she seems potentially dangerous.
In the end (again – this is a film that really can be spoiled), it turns out that the killer all along was Don Avallone, the kindly, young, handsome village priest who has shown real care for the boys in his parish. While this does culminate in a deliriously crazy clifftop priest fight as Avallone does his level best to drop his final victim (his young sister) to her death, and when he finally goes over the edge, there is cringe inducing fun to be had in the way his face hits every possible sharp rock on the way down, the end of the film also lands with a surprising depth of feeling. This also distinguished it for me from much of the giallo pack.
A personal criticism of some gialli is that the plots can be so convoluted that at a certain point, I sometimes lose interest in following their permutations and rather just go along for the cool ride. It’s rare that the final revelation really touches me – these movies are all about the journey, not the destination. However, Don Avallone’s madness was pitiable and thematically consistent with what had been shown throughout the movie. He had such a whammy of “SIN” put on him by his religion, and the society surrounding him is obviously so mired in sordid, petty, meanness. The only way he felt he could care for his flock was to murder them while they were still “innocent” (and from what we saw of the boys, they weren’t even that).
When his motivations are revealed, it is sadly chilling, and the film ends with much more weight than I’d expected. It still doesn’t feel exactly like a “horror movie,” so much as a heartfelt, horrific, momentarily gory, atmospheric murder drama, but I think it is worth viewing for genre fans open to such things, and I’m enjoying my continued tracking of Fulci’s trajectory.
The Psychic (1977)
So, funny fact: I set out on this project, intending to really get into some “legitimate horror,” but in my ignorance, it seems that I chose three of Fulci’s thrillers from before he started making horror films proper (one book I checked last night after watching this third film lists Zombi as his first). Though all of them feature horrific elements, and one can find roots of his later work in them, none are entirely, unqualified “horror films.” Still, all of these are significant, impressive pieces of work and I’m really glad to have finally done this very satisfying homework. Case in point, The Psychic (also released as Seven Notes in Black or Murder to the Tune of the Seven Black Notes – a very giallo title) still retains many elements of his early thriller phase (which began in 1969 with Perversion Story, an apparent forerunner of Basic Instinct/Fatal Attraction-esque erotic thrillers), but for the first time introduces a supernatural element, and along with it, edges towards the doom-laden mood he was soon to capture two years later with Zombi (between them, he directed his final Spaghetti Western, Silver Saddle).
And I have to say, I loved it. The Psychic is a gorgeous, somewhat gothic, and even surprisingly classy supernatural horror-thriller (“classy” being a term I don’t often associate with Fulci, though I’ve long respected his artistry). There is a thick, nigh-viscous atmosphere of inescapable fate, the feeling of the screws tightening, of a trap slowly closing around the protagonist over the course of the whole film, and there are a couple of just gleefully intense sequences of terror along the way, often underscored by the absolutely simple, haunting, unsettling theme that Fabio Frizzi contributed (and Tarantino later repurposed in Kill Bill – which, for my money, may be the greatest horror theme I’ve yet heard). As is often the case with Fulci, there is a pervasive dream-like quality to this tale of a woman whose psychic flashes haunt her with visions of murder and calamity. We’re not necessarily slipping in and out of a dream state as in some films, but the way her flashes of psychic insight impinge on her daily existence does contribute to a destabilization of confidence in the reality of the senses.
And at this point, I must say that if you think you might like to try this one out, go do it now (if you’ve got a US library card, it’s on Kanopy – otherwise you can watch it with ads on Popcornflix). There is really no good way to discuss this movie without touching on the ending. It was sadly spoiled for me and though I still enjoyed it, it would have been nice not to have had the (probably obvious, but still chilling) turn of events given away in advance (though also, to be fair, one poster I saw absolutely spoiled the ending – geez…).
Ok, so for those choosing not to heed my advice, a brief synopsis: Virginia (Jennifer O’Neill) has been shaken by psychic visions her whole life, since, as a child, she witnessed a vision of her mother committing suicide a thousand miles away. To help her process her visions, she now retains the services of a parapsychologist (played by Marc Porel, the priest in Don’t Torture a Duckling). Having recently married a dashing Italian gentleman, she’s rocked by a vision of an elderly woman with a gushing head wound, a magazine, a red room, a broken mirror, a yellow cigarette in a blue ash tray, and being walled up by bricks like something out of a Poe story (apparently Fulci was quite a fan). She visits a palazzo owned by her husband, now gone to seed and recognizes a room from her vision, leading her to take a sledgehammer to one wall and uncover the skeleton hidden within. As her husband is arrested under investigation of murder, she starts piecing together the elements of her vision to uncover the true killer. But, as becomes clear over the course of the film, she had not actually seen a vision of the past, but rather, her own future, her own murder.
I appreciated how this realization doesn’t drop as a final scene twist. Rather, it’s more of a water torture situation. There is one small piece of evidence after another that points her in the right direction and that leads her to her final understanding, all functioning as a vicious puzzle box which she is compelled to open, only to find herself, in the end, closed within. At a certain point, it feels as if she understands what she’s hurtling towards but has no power to stop it, and O’Neill’s performance is pitch perfect – balancing a tragic drive to uncover the truth and the sense that her sanity is hanging by a bit of twine and each new revelation cuts another thread. She continues to try to “solve the murder,” pushing away the awareness that she is actually inviting her own.
I think in this way, for all that it still carries the typical giallo trappings of a murder mystery, a series of plot twists, and heavy doses of style, I think it is fair to count this one an actual horror. What is more “horror” than the dawning, terrible realization of an inescapable, awful truth? Additionally, the supernatural motif adds a certain flavor: a dread that is more than mere psychology, a delicious suspense that pierces like a needle. Much of the film may operate as an almost stately mood piece, but when it kicks into high gear, it sings.
The high point of this may be a late sequence when, chased by the man she thinks is the killer, Virginia hides in a church under renovation. Echoing a similar moment in A Lizard in a Woman’s Skin, while hidden on the scaffolding, the alarm in her watch starts to sound a tinkling version of Frizzi’s theme and the man sees her. A hunt ensues up ladders and across precarious planks as the full theme blares. It is a gloriously tense episode and it is reflected in the final, eerie, unresolved moments of the film, once the masonry work has been completed and Virginia’s fate has run its course.
—
And so, those are three early Fulci thrillers. It’s been a pleasure to learn a bit about his earlier work and all three were clearly proficient and effective films in their own right beyond the fact that they each imply something of where he would later go. It is interesting to see a progression from the showy style of the first film, in which the camera rarely deigns to shoot anything straight on, to the confident, masterfully constructed third film, which is much less ostentatious, and yet no less stylish or effective. It’s been great to expand my understanding of an appreciated director whose work I’d only scratched the surface of (though I don’t think I’m going to take a deep dive into his non-horror/thriller work – but who knows, maybe How We Robbed the Bank of Italy or his adaptation of Jack London’s White Fang are worth checking out). But, since I’m still itching for some crawling, goopy, mind-cracking horrors, I think I’ll stick with old Lucio for another week, so watch this space for a heavy dose of messy doom next time.
