WATCH ME WHEN I KILL

Adapting the mystery plot conventions of the British mystery thriller -- which itself often depended on the accumulation of seemingly disparate facts by detection to discover the identities of violent criminals -- with the more sordid quasi-Gothic trappings of the German Krimi (a sub-genre which emphasized moody atmosphere and the psychological states of the emotionally ill), the Italian Giallo is a hybrid of various storytelling conventions whose emphasis on style revolutionized the form of the thriller. Focusing on style and atmosphere, lending convoluted plots further believability and emotional energy by focusing on the look of the action, the Giallo became infamous (and revered) for its enthusiastic love of perversion, artfully conceived deaths, and voyeuristic approach to violent sexual encounters. Less sensational but more important as a thematic basis is its dependence on subversive themes, including scathing attacks against social negligence, political corruption, gender conflict, and the plight of the outsider vs. the establishment.

Celebrating the art of murder, the Gialli also honors the role of the individual, who usually by chance witnesses (or experiences) an atrocious crime which implicates him in a tangled web of deceit. Watch Me When I Kill combines elements of traditional Gialli violence and perversion with an emphasis on characterization and mystery, subverting the form from within. Less satisfying visually than the films of Mario Bava, Dario Argento, or Lucio Fulci -- and certainly less exciting in scope -- Aldo Lado's directorial descent into depravity is a successful if uneven return to Gialli's roots as a form of detection, more concerned with the mechanics of plot and deduction than with the visual excess that so often makes these films so satisfyingly sensational.

Originating as an established art form with The Girl Who Knew To Much (1963), Mario Bava, the father of the Giallo, focused on a major POV character struggling with her memory/sense of perception to decode an act of violence upon which her life depended. This 'type' of character, reused in countless variations by others, through ignorance or chance, witnesses/experiences an act whose deciphering is crucial to the plot. Perception becomes a character itself, emphasized alongside fetishistic imagery, in Watch Me When I Kill, which is both an invitation to both characters and audience, hinting at the voyeuristic tendencies which the film attempts to celebrate and intellectualize.

The plot is as convoluted as its characters are well meaning yet ignorant, fumbling at almost every turn as they attempt to solve one mystery that becomes several. While this drawn out (admittedly unnecessary abundance of red herrings) turns off many critics, its slight betrayal of the audience may be forgiven for the suspense and surrealistic sense of dream-logic that t infuses this torrid psycho thriller. Amidst a city where police are unable to solve a string of brutal murders, Mara (Paola Tedesco) witnesses a killing when making a purchase at a drug store. Afterwards, she turns to her boyfriend, Lukas (Corrado Pani), for comfort and safety, fearing that the killer knows her identity and will seek to silence her. As he attempts to identify the murderer and decipher his motivations, several political and social controversies are dug up, people die in sensationalized (if surprisingly un-graphic) fashion, and both Mara and Luka are confronted with personal issues as emotionally disruptive as the killer's exploits.

Originally titled The Cat with the Jade Eyes (Il gatto dagli occhi di giad), Bido's first film is both a homage and revision of Giallo tradition. While at first appearing a brazen, derivative burrowing of Argento's flexography, Bido is clearly less interested in the psycho-sexual dementia and fetishism of his killer than the former director. Further, Bido pays less attention to bloodshed and the artistically arranged murder; while competent and engaging in itself, physical violence isn't as important to the film as is the logical if subversive denouement. Offering thoughtful commendations of history and cultural enslavement to the past, Bido's strongest social commentary is a reverence for family juxtaposed with a fear of father-son relationships. This is, among other things, the story of a father's hatred and fear literally (as well as symbolically) transferred to his son. To say anymore would reveal too much plot. Sufficient to say that this is a mystery thriller more devoted to story than to the style which so often characterizes the form.

The scenario for this emotionally painful suspense film is quite original, offering in its seedy, shadow-stained atmosphere a sense of alienation and estrangement that lends greater depth to its themes and the atmosphere of knife-wielding, clue-following mayhem. The motive for the psycho is, for once, unique and thought-provoking, and the end is faithful to the ideas and mood established before it. Congrats to Bido for following his refreshingly bleak premise to a fatal, downbeat conclusion! Murder scenes, the aesthetic justification for the Italian murder mystery, are classy and inventive without emitting the cruelty of Fulci of the finess of Argento, but with a style of believability that makes them nevertheless pleasing to the perverted palate. Finally, his prowling camera and ability to suggest tension with lighting and body movement shows that he has a proficient understanding of technology as well as an understanding of human behavior.

The visual presentation of Watch Me When I Kill, offered in a pleasing widescreen aspect ratio of 16X9 is quite nice, seeped in carefully defined colors, tones, and hues. Short of grain, the picture quality is of a high standard that allows for a vast improvement compared to earlier VHS prints and the dup copies which were once needed to view this often neglected Giallo. While no way as generous as supplements were for such releases as Horror of The Black Museum, this package includes an Antonio Bido bio and Italian movie trailers. While it's a shame such extras as perhaps interviews with Bido and cast, stills, and perhaps a commentary weren't included, this is still a beautiful presentation of an underrated Giallo more concerned with the intimacy of its characters and plot than with violence.

Review by William P Simmons