(1972)
Overall: MEH
A convoluted four-way love escapade partly fueled by jealousy and rage lies at the center of Armando Crispino's The Dead Are Alive, (L'etrusco uccide ancora, The Etruscan Kills Again, Das Geheimnis des Gelben Grabes, Overtime, El dios de la muerte asesina otra vez), which is an overlong and dull giallo with an archeological setting. While both John Marley and Alex Cord let loose with asshole-worthy performances, the music is at least occasionally creepy, Erico Menczer's cinematography is appropriately atmospheric, and the minimal amount of murder sequences have a ghastly bright-red-blood brutality to them, yet the plot's dramatics are both uninteresting and take up most of the running time. Giallos generally hinge on various misdirects as far as who the killer is and while this is no different, the story makes the mistake of vaguely teasing at some ancient demon forces early on, which makes the inevitable, "Oh never mind, it was just that guy" reveal even more disappointing than it otherwise would be. Some of the style carries it though, but only in short spurts.
(1975)
Overall: MEH
The penultimate of Armando Crispino's directorial efforts to be theatrically released, Autopsy, (Macchie solari, The Victim, Corpse), is a textbook giallo for better or worse. Crispino had been steadily delivering adequate if unexceptional works in various genres by this point in his career and by following the Italian slasher framework to a tee, he crafted something that is no more or less ridiculous than the plethora of others of its kind. Here, every character is privy to bouts of spontaneous violence as to paint them as the possible killer, Mimsy Farmer gets naked several times and randomly falls in love with a guy that she hates, her father survives getting thrown off of a high-rise building only to put on goofy goggles by trying to help the police identify his attacker, (long story, sort of), and there are a couple of weird hallucination sequences to break up the hum-drum plot. Focusing on a single murder that takes place early on, the body count is low and therefor disappointing for anyone who finds wacky, misogynistic kill scenes to be the main reason to watch such films in the first place. Still, Crispino makes up for a lack of flare with some halfway decent mood-building, stock footage, and of course plenty of camera zooms, but the story is too lazily constructed to forgive the merely passable presentation.
(1975)
Overall: WOOF
Regrettably, filmmaker Armando Crispino closed out his directorial career with the unwatchable Frankenstein: Italian Style, (Frankenstein all'italiana - Prendimi, straziami, che brucio de passion!, Frankenstein Italian Style - Take Me, Torture Me, as I am Burning with Passion!); a horror comedy that pathetically piggy-backs off of the success of Mel Brooks' Young Frankenstein. This one is in color, has fart gags, and sticks to a relentlessly juvenile agenda where every character gets to act like a three year old child throwing a tantrum at least once. Of course the creature, (portrayed by singer Aldo Maccione), gets a free pass to exhibit the most infantile of mannerisms, passing gas, throwing food, fondling ladies, and relentlessly grunting while everyone else falls down and mugs at the camera. We get moments like the monster banging several women so good that they sing "Hallelujah" afterwards, the monster hiding under a kitchen table for what seems like hours even though nobody notices, the monster getting a shot in his butt so that he can make an obnoxious noise, the monster dancing a waltz with Igor, and plenty of other horny tomfoolery that represents the antithesis of funny. This was a rare work from Crispino that he did not have a hand in writing, which saves him some embarrassment at least since he probably just did it for a paycheck. Still, the man never made another movie after this and lived for nearly another three decades, so one can add the phrase "career ending" to the film's list of accomplishments.
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