THE GIALLO COLLECTION

Two undisputed classics of the giallo genre, accompanied by one also-ran of vague interest, all boxed together at a nice price from VCI.

The first film in the collection is Mario Bava's seminal BLOOD AND BLACK LACE.

Widely regarded as the first giallo picture (it's debatable, but I shan't digress), LACE saw Bava leap from the gothic black-and-white photography of his masterpiece BLACK SUNDAY and demonstrate a consummate understanding of the use of colour in a horror film.

The story revolves around a group of pretty young models who are killed off one-by-one by a masked assassin. All the victims - and their bosses, plus a couple of lovers and hangers-on - stay together in a grand old fashion house, and all are keen to get their hands on one of the dead model's diary that somehow seems to hold incriminating evidence against each of them. In other words, there's no shortage of suspects!

The story is amazingly economic, allowing Bava to concentrate solely on atmosphere and visuals. This he does with aplomb. The opening credits, where each cast member stands mannequin-esque alongside their name in the titles, are swathed in deep hues of red and green. And the rest of the film follows suit - it's glorious to look at, the unusual European art decor, stylish models' attire and coloured lighting all conspire to make this a visual feast.

But LACE also relies on some great hammy performances - Cameron Mitchell (THE TOOLBOX MURDERS) is on top form - and a sadistic pleasure from Bava in slaying his pretty cast. Much has been made of the film being a possible metaphor for Bava's fear of the opposite sex, the graphic (for their time) murders - a metal claw in the face; a bathtub drowning; a face burnt on a stove - represent a misogynistic urge to "destroy beauty".

Rather than get bogged down in the possible politics that motivate the film, it's much better to sit back and enjoy it for what it was most likely intended to be taken as - a gloriously shot, vividly colourful and gleefully mischievous "guess who?" with Gothic horror leanings.

The second film on offer is Dario Argento's revered debut feature, THE BIRD WITH THE CRYSTAL PLUMAGE.

The film follows the tribulations of Sam (Tony Musante), an American writer working in Rome and living there with his British girlfriend Julia (Suzy Kendall). Sam is the sole witness to a murder in an art gallery one evening. He decides to investigate the crime himself when the police prove ineffectual and an attempt is made on his life.

What follows is a convoluted yet thoroughly enjoyable whodunit, with red herrings aplenty and an abundance of quirky characters thrown in to serve as either suspects, victims or simply amusing walk-ons harbouring vital clues (the gay lag that Sam visits in prison). It matters not that the killer's identity is revealed thanks to a clue that is so obscure you've got no chance of guessing - it's the suspense that Argento cranks up along the way that counts.

BIRD is filled with classic scenes: the chase through the streets that leads to a room of potential hitmen wearing identical yellow jackets; the frankly barmy artist who Sam visits in a remote country barn; Sam trapped between two glass panel doors, watching in horror as a woman is stabbed to death; the terrorising of Julia as - in a precursor to one of SUSPIRIA's best set-piece scenes - the killer tries to break into the room she's locked herself in, ramming a blade through the keyhole repeatedly.

There is, of course, a level of violence in BIRD that was unusual for it's time. The razor-slicing of a female character in a lift is justifiably famous for it's shocking impact, and in recent years the reinstated footage of the killer slicing apart a woman's knickers has become a talking point too. Savage, suggestive and yet another piece of ammunition for the insane brigade who think Argento hates women.

BIRD is a classic that is virtually a blueprint for the remainder of Argento's career. Everything he's famous for is here: the stylised violence; a propensity for terrorising helpless females onscreen; the black leather gloves worn by the killer; the camera forcing us to take on the killer's point of view; the singular obscure clue that holds the key to an entire mystery; the stranger in a strange land who unwittingly becomes involved in something they later feel compelled to investigate further; the virtuoso camera work and imaginative use of primary colours; the fetishistic preparation of sharp shiny knives by the killer; the outlandish violence; the inclusion of modern art as a plot device ...

Along with LACE, BIRD is a must-see highpoint of the genre and one whose influence can still be witnessed today. For example, check out the film's voyeuristic opening - a woman being spied upon as she walks down the street, set to Ennio Morricone's haunting "la-la-la-la-la" score - that was cannily alluded to midway through Quinten Tarantino's recent DEATH PROOF.

Finally, we get to WATCH ME WHEN I KILL, directed by Antonio Bido (THE BLOODSTAINED SHADOW).

A pill-popping chemist is bludgeoned then slashed across the throat and left to die in his own shop. Shortly afterwards, nightclub dancer Mara (Paola Tedsco) stops by for some aspirins - and finds the man dead.

As Mara raises the alarm, she is watched from across the street by the killer as they sit calmly in their car.

Later that evening, after dancing for her wages at a local club, Mara returns to her apartment and settles down for the evening. But the killer - who has been following her - breaks into her home with the intention of clubbing her to death. However, a noisy dog in the neighbouring apartment scuppers their plans and they flee into the night as Mara awakes.

Mara understandably freaks out and moves in with her police detective boyfriend Lukas (Corrado Pani). Inevitably, Lukas takes on the case of trying to unmask the killer before his girlfriend becomes their next victim. There are though, of course, a few peripheral characters who get in the way in the meantime to ensure regular scenes of violent murder.

KILL is as derivative as they come - a textbook example of everything that's come to be expected in giallo cinema: misleading sub-plots; a script that appears tight yet upon closer inspection is full of gaping holes; crank phone calls; zoom-ins into furrowed brows; quirky, suspicious characters; sex; a Goblinesque score; a twist ending ... Bido lacks imagination but goes through the genre conventions with style and verve.

The Argento influences are obvious, not only in the score but the lighting, carefully considered camera work and plot. Even some of the murder scenes are close to Argento's earlier efforts (one woman gets her face shoved repeatedly into a boiling pan of food, echoing the scalding bathtub scene in DEEP RED).

But as far as works of plagiarism go, KILL is an above average effort. Okay, the opening credits make it look like you're about to watch an episode of COLUMBO, the end is a little silly (and very abrupt) and the English dubbing is distracting, but overall this is well worth a watch.

Each film is presented in its original aspect ratio, and enhanced for 16x9 TVs. The transfers are not great, but acceptable. LACE in particular is a soft, grainy affair, not giving justice to the sumptuous colours on offer. BIRD is overly dark and not a patch on the clarity of Blue Underground's special edition, while KILL offers a fairly soft but bright and largely grain-free presentation (I've not seen the original, much maligned 2002 VCI release of KILL, but this doesn't appear to be half as bad as old reviews reported - a new transfer, perhaps?).

Audio on each film is efficient enough to avoid complaints: LACE offers mixes in French, English and the original Italian soundtracks (including a 5.1 remix) with optional English and Spanish subtitles; BIRD provides an English stereo mix; KILL gives an English mono dubbed track only.

Each disc is replete with static menu pages, and it's own share of extras.

For LACE, we get VCI's 2-disc Special Edition which in fairness isn't all that remarkable. Aside from the disappointing transfer, we get an informative but overly academic commentary track from Tim Lucas (reading through it, by the sound of it), a few trailers, four audio tracks from the soundtrack, biography notes, interviews with Cameron Mitchell and Mary Dawne Arden, a brief comparison between the cut and uncut versions of the film, a photo gallery, two alternative opening titles sequences and a Tim Lucas profile (!). It's hard to imagine why it couldn't all fit on a single disc.

BIRD is the old VCI release, with the unfortunate second or so of footage that was restored into the film in the wrong order. Extras include trailers, outdated biography notes and the original soundtrack - the disc's undoubted highlight.

KILL gives us a couple of radio spots, a TV spot, a Bido biography and a couple of trailers. The inclusion of a trailer for recent indie film THE STITCHER reveals that this is a 2007 re-release.

The discs each come in their own keepcase and original packaging, held together by a colourful card box.

Not bad for the price, although I suspect many already own at least two of the films on offer here - and on better DVDs too.

Review by Stuart Willis