Dir - Enzo G. Castellari
Overall: MEH
A home invasion thriller with plenty of giallo stylistic touches, Cold Eyes of Fear, (Gli occhi freddi della paura, Desperate Moments), was a Spanish/Italian co-production that was set and partially shot in London. Familiar genre faces Fernando Rey and Frank Wolff are present, the latter American actor and Roger Corman regular sadly committing suicide not long after production wrapped. Here he portrays a convicted felon who is out for revenge, hatching a scheme with a liberal amount of holes in it that involves posing as a police man, hiring a two-bit thug, and breaking into the house of the judge who sent him to the joint for fifteen years. Wolff turns in an increasingly unhinged performance, especially in the last act where his troubled psyche is manifested on screen in surreal fashion with some flashy camera zooms and whatnot. In fact there are several moments where director Enzo G. Castellari and cinematographer Antonio Lopez Ballesteros spice things up, including an opening psyche-out scene in a club. Excessive nudity and gore may be missing from the proceedings, but the high-tension melodramatics are in proper place.
(1972)
Dir - Tonino Valerii
Overall: MEH
The only giallo from director Tonino Valerii, My Dear Killer, (Mio caro assassino), is formulaic in most respects, but it is competently done with some sleazy details in proper tow. The film brings together genre regulars George Hilton and Helga Line, plus this serves as the debut from seven year-old German actor Lara Wendel who makes her first of several appearances in European movies where part of the plot hinges on an icky adult being attracted to her. Also, she is briefly shown nude, so there is that. Such unwholesome nonsense aside, it is the usual police procedural deal where a detective is one step behind the killer until the very end, with all of the clues hiding in plain sight and in seemingly insignificant details. Some POV camerawork from cinematographer Manuel Rojas, a murderer who smashes people to death with a stature, (or a buzz-saw in one instance), a surprisingly subtle musical score from Ennio Morricone, and a laugh-out-loud opening scene where a guy gets lifted high off the ground and decapitated by a construction crane are all highlights. Unfortunately, the plot specifics are convoluted, plus the movie has a talky and ergo less than agreeable agency to it so that by the time the killer reveal happens, it arrives with more of a yawn than a gasp.
(1978)
Dir - Luigi Cozzi
Overall: WOOF
The Italians pathetically cashing in on Star Wars? Surely you jest. Starcrash, (Scontri stellari oltre la terza dimensione), is a delightfully terrible knock-off from director Luigi Cozzi that exhibits the best kind of bad movie magic, meaning something that comes off as a parody in all details yet takes itself seriously. This equals unintended hysterics from front to back, down to a cornball plot that a five year old would think is stupid, embarrassing performances that are enhanced tenfold by embarrassing dubbing that is enhanced tenfold by embarrassing dialog, and D-rent special effects done on an A-scale. Shot in Rome and scoring everyone from Christopher Plummer, David Hasselhoff, Joe Spinell, and the husband/wife team of Judd Hamilton and Caroline Munro, everyone sounds and looks ridiculous. Though her voice was redone by Candy Clark since why pay someone to be in your movie AND say their own lines, Munro takes the lead, rocking out a bikini in most of her scenes where her hairstyle changes between interior and exterior shots. The plot finds our heroes hitting one deadly brick wall after the other, easily escaping or being rescued with an increasing sense of zero suspense, all with unconvincing fight scenes, cheap lasers and model work, some stop-motion animation, and Flash Gordon schmaltz peppering every scene. To be fair, the aesthetic is pure, colorful camp and it manages to look both low-rent and decadent at the same time. A staple for any bad movie night.
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