(1971)
Dir - Mel Welles
Overall: MEH
With the most noteworthy thing on his resume being the role of the flower shop owner in the original Little Shop of Horrors, you are not necessarily going into a "directed by Mel Welles" movie with the highest of expectations. An international joint production that was heavily funded by Roger Corman's New World Pictures after an Italian bank backed out, Lady Frankenstein is of course one of the countless films that once again adapts the Mary Shelley novel. Well, adapts its "Man playing god" premise at least. There are some less common flourishes for this round with Frankenstein's bizarrely horny daughter fetching a scheme that can only exist in low budget horror movies to have her father's assistant's brain transplanted into a young, hunky village idiot's body in order to both make sweet, Gothic lover to him and be strong enough to kill her father's monster that is repetitively murdering people by throwing things at them in every other scene. So it is definitely stupid, but it is also delightfully stupid for the most part. Welles, (a coincidental last name as none other than Joseph Cotten plays the Baron, hardly looking the thirty years older that he was since Citizen Kane), does not drag the film down into typically tedious pacing and there is just enough nudity and cliched shots of mad scientist equipment that serves no logical purpose besides having to be there because Frankenstein. The ending is comically abrupt and asinine, but it also does not really surprise you by being so.
(1972)
Dir - Emilio Miraglia
Overall: MEH
Many giallo films fly off the rails at various times, usually around the conclusion when the mystery of who is causing all the bloody shenanigans and why is finally divulged to the audience. Yet The Night Evelyn Came Out of the Grave, (La notte che Evelyn uscì dalla tomba), consistently keeps things absurd the entire time. The main protagonist is psychotic as soon as we meet him and we witness this several times throughout the film, not only making him wholly unsympathetic, but also making it very far-fetched and silly by the end that virtually every other character is even more diabolical. The viewer is completely mislead, (which is a given for these bloody, Italian pre-slasher movies), but the "pay-off" at the end where multiple rugs are pulled out from under us in a matter of mere minutes is wacky to the point of being comical. This can be considered a plus though as the incredibly implausible lack of realism certainly does not make the film come off as anything resembling "boring". To flavor things up, it is loaded with Gothic horror elements, (including a very goofy seance, a dark and spooky castle, crypts being opened, ghost sightings, and even a woman wearing a skeleton mask), all of which make the script's believably suffer while at the same times making for a more fun ride. There is conclusively too many missteps, (particularly in the jumbled ending), to give it a sincere recommendation, but it does distinguish itself just enough as a hoot.
(1976)
Dir - Pupi Avati
Overall: WOOF
What a bizarre experience this is. Few, (make that no), giallo films are more frustrating in their presentation than Pupi Avati's generally praised The House with Laughing Windows, (La casa dalle finestre che ridono). One can be brought to an aghast standstill over how unbearably boring it is. The one-hundred and ten minute running time is the movie's undoing in so many ways. Nothing happens for so very, very long besides people leaving vague warnings over the phone, (which are never explained), our main protagonist having two love interests, (the first of which is 100% irrelevant to anything), several characters repeatedly attempting to deliver expository dialog only to continually be stopped, and so, so, so much back and forth between various locations where absolutely nothing transpires to further the plot. It is simply exhausting to have our main character be in one building, walk around slowly or have a conversation, then have him go to another building and do the same over and over again for well over an hour with the outright bare minimum in suspense being portrayed. This is a pivotal mistake to wearing the viewer's patience down so incredibly much that by the ridiculous ending, it is nearly impossible to have any kind of investment nor the faintest idea of what is going on. Shaving off an hour and a half where it could have been a short segment for a TV series may have proved memorable, but in its brutally uncompromising full-length, giallo rarely gets more excruciating to stay awake for than here.
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