The Killer Must Kill Again

Philandering playboy type Mainardi (George Hilton) has a problem: How to get rid of his wife Nora (Teresa Valasquez) but not her family's fortune.

An apparent solution presents itself in the form of an unnamed, black-clad assassin (Antoine St John, billed here as Michel Antoine) whom Mainardi happens upon in the act of disposing of a victim and makes an offer that cannot be refused: If the man will dispose of Nora, making it look like a kidnapping, then Mainardi with pay him $20,000. Else he will go to the authorities.

The killer accepts and the deed is done. But as he returns to the Mainardi's apartment to tidy up a young couple, Luca and Laura (Alessio Orano and Cristina Galbo) notice that the keys are still in the ignition of his car and drive off.

Thinking fast, the killer hotwires a car and sets off in pursuit, eventually catching up with the couple – who remain oblivious to the body in the boot – at an isolated beachside villa…

Meantime, the car theft has led Mainardi's neighbours to call the police. Thus Mainardi returns home from his alibi to find a detective (Eduardo Fajardo) waiting with some awkward questions about certain facts in the case of Nora Mainardi that don't quite add up…

Luigi Cozzi has always been something of a puzzle to me, his love for and knowledge of cinema never previously seeming to translate into films such as 1980's Contamination that were anything other than entertainingly bad. Now I think I know the answer: It was his misfortune to be a fantasy film enthusiast coming of age precisely at that point in time when his preferred genre was becoming ever more big budget, respectable and, crucially, driven by expensive effects.

For this 1973/75 thriller is propelled first and foremost by ideas. The central one, the challenge that the Cozzi and his team have set themselves, can be summed up thus: Can we make a giallo (note here the recurrence of the colour yellow, seen in Mainardi's apartment, the police station and elsewhere) that doesn't have any mystery element to it, and which correspondingly avoids the use of key stylistic devices like the subjective POV shots from an unseen murderer's perspective, in favour of a transparently obvious narrative, yet still maintain spectator involvement through suspense?

The answer is a resounding 'yes' for a giallo that could well be understood as the genre's equivalent of Edgar G Ulmer's Detour – with which it shares the same perverse Murphy's Law logic – or Val Lewton's Cat People – which Cozzi pages overt tribute to in one sequence – as an object lesson in how to make an effective film with minimal resources.

The difference between Cozzi's film and its models is also apparent elsewhere. Whereas Argento's emphasised modern techniques and technologies of vision and investigation – think, for example, of the experimental camera to capture the last visions of the dead in Four Flies on Grey Velvet, or the ultra-slow motion camera he used to capture the final, spectacular car crash therein – Cozzi exhibits a preference for older approaches dating back not only to Hitchcock, but also D W Griffith, using irising, cut-ins and, above all, cross-cutting – to enhance the mood and embellish the tension.

One moment in particular stands out, with Cozzi juxtaposing rape and sex scenes in such a way as to make it impossible for the spectator to take pleasure in the latter, unsure as he is as to where the fragments of action he is seeing come. Half-intended it may be – the previously unmentioned Femi Benussi's role here is strictly as get naked and die eye candy – but it nevertheless raises interesting questions for those who would dismiss the film and others like it tout court as nothing but exploitative trash.

It's also about the performances Cozzi gets – and here, at least, he is in advance of his then mentor, whose bad experiences with Tony Musante's method antics famously soured him against the acting profession for many years.

Or, maybe, seeing as Hilton is playing the same suave, sophisticated and slightly shifty type he always did (cf. The Case of the Scorpion's Tail, All the Colours of the Dark etc) and St John would probably look menacing regardless thanks to his cadaverous, haunted physiognomy it's simply a case of Cozzi's knowing not to get in their way – the latter's impact is such that one wonders why he never became a bigger genre star, to the giallo what Lee Van Cleef was to the spaghetti western.

In recognition of the fact that they are releasing a "lost classic" for the first time in the US, Mondo Macabro have really pulled out all the stops with this DVD.

The film itself probably looks as good as it did when it played Italian cinemas in the mid-1970s, with a fine anamorphic widescreen transfer that exhibits strong colours, deep blacks and good definition, with nary a scratch evident.

Though the audio isn't quite up to the same standard, with some noise at what one assumes must be reel changeovers, the presence of the original Italian language track in addition to the English dub is a very welcome compensation, with the optional subtitles clear and accurate throughout.

The feature commentary with Cozzi in conversation with Andy Starke is also a delight to listen to and has to rank as one of the best I've heard, being full of enthusiasm and fascinating detail. Who would have guessed, for instance, that the iris effects were inspired by a viewing of Francois Truffaut's Stolen Kisses?

Two shorter interviews see Cozzi expound on the specific subjects of science fiction, his lifelong passion, and his enduring relationship with Dario Argento to nicely round out our picture of the auteur.

The genre side of things, meanwhile, is covered by a slightly retooled version of the Adrian Luther Smith introduction to the giallo featurette from the Death Walks at Midnight DVD. While more geared to the genre newbie, it remains a solid introduction whose presence is futher justified in this context by its usefulness as a reminder of the typical giallo that Cozzi was reacting to.

Also included are the film's original Italian title sequence (under the more enigmatic title of Il Ragno – i.e. The Spider) and theatrical trailer, along with an image gallery.

Another vital DVD from a company whose pride in their product is evident throughout.