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Mario Bava's "story of a vacation," a giallo foundation full of charm from the title (which elucidates a key Hitchcock theme) to the casting (a dubbed John Saxon pantomiming lions and Christians at the Colosseum). The visiting Yank (Letícia Román) arrives in Rome just in time to see her aunt expire, the knifing she witnesses at the Piazza di Spagna might be a murder or a figment of an Edgar Wallace-lubricated imagination. A tasty overhead shot finds her at the hospital surrounded by white-robed nuns (they back away and their headwear disperse like a blossoming magnolia), "mythomania" is the hasty diagnosis. Unconvinced, the heroine pokes around and discovers a box full of clippings on "I Delitti Dell'Alfabeto": "No one ever took seriously the phone calls which preceded each of the crimes." Lambent lighting points up the director's apprenticeship under Tourneur, a galaxy of shadowy patterns emerges as Román trembles in the dark and concocts an alarm system out of talcum powder and tangled string. An elongated corridor is illuminated by bare bulbs swaying from the ceiling, the tape recorder with evidence of foul play suddenly blares out a maniacally sped-up version of the jazzy-spooky theme song. The vivacious sightseer and the bruised doctor, undulating filters for flashbacks and Rebecca for Bluebeard's locked chamber (Valentina Cortese's transformation from blithe socialite to Mrs. Danvers is another priceless effect), a constant gleam in the camera's eye. Bava's Città Eterna, as impishly distinctive as Fellini's—the touring couple investigates the scene of the crime, then a rapid lateral pan spots a fashion shoot on the steps of the cathedral. "A dream, perhaps. A nightmare, never." Blood and Black Lace the next year adds color to the blueprint. With Titti Tomaino, Luigi Bonos, Milo Quesada, Robert Buchanan, Marta Melocco, and Dante DiPaolo. In black and white.
--- Fernando F. Croce |