Young mathematician Stefano D'Archangelo (Lino Capolicchio – The House with Laughing Windows ) returns to the Venetian island of Murano to recuperate from a nervous illness. After chatting with young artist/designer Sandra Sellani (Stefani Casini – Suspiria ) on the train, Stefano is met by his older brother Paolo (Craig Hill), now the town priest.
The brothers go for a meal and to catch up on what has been happening, with Paolo voicing his frustration at his inability to do anything about the town's degenerates and deviants – an atheistic gay aristocrat, a doctor whose wife died in dubious circumstances and a nurse who performs backstreet abortions – all of whom participate in seances conducted by a fake medium.
During the night Paolo is awoken by a noise. Going to the window, he sees two figures struggling in the street. Stefano arrives and the brothers go to investigate, but find nothing amidst the darkness and torrential rain.
Later Paolo finds a note warning him that he will be next if he talks. The brothers debate what to do, only for their discussion to be rendered irrelevant when the medium is found strangled, the mode of her death resembling that of a still unsolved child killing from the brothers' youth and triggering one of Stefano's attacks.
When Paolo narrowly avoids being crushed by a falling stone crucifix (ooh, symbolism) it becomes clear the killer intends to make good on his threat.
Yet the killer also seems to have some common ground with Don Paolo, in that his next victims are the same corrupting influences the priest earlier railed against…
And what is it about the strange painting at Sandra's stepmother's that causes Stefano to suffer an attack?
Antonio Bido's 1978 giallo starts off very promisingly with two impressively handled murder scenes – the first a dreamy pre-credits flashback whose meaning will become clear as the film progresses in that traditional primal scene way – but thereafter becomes somewhat bogged down and lacking in focus, thanks to a slack narrative – the romantic subplot between Stefano and Sandra slows things down particularly badly here, with a especially awkwardly handled nude scene that neither participants nor the director seem comfortable with – and the absence of a clear protagonist to identify with – it soon becoming apparent that the brothers' interests in the case are somewhat different – at which point the low kitsch and trash levels compared to a more straightahead exploitation minded entry begin to bite it.
Two sequences seem, to me, to encapsulate The Bloodstained Shadow 's merits and demerits:
First, a sequence where the brothers debate what to do after finding the initial warning note, which Bido presents using a mirror to make it seem that the brothers are facing opposite directions rather than each other. In most gialli this would be a throwaway piece of stylish gimmickry for its own sake (cf. The Case of the Bloody Iris ). Here, however, it is invested with meaning, signifying the growing distance between the two brothers and their paths through life in terms of the oppositions between science and religion, reason and faith, leaving and staying and relationships and celibacy.
Second, a long wordless passage where we stalk Sandra through the sidestreets and canals of Venice. The scene goes on for what seems like an eternity, heightening our (sadistic) anticipation that an attack will occur. Yet (doubly sadistic, perhaps) nothing happens, leading – the sexual connotations of the language are deliberate – to a complete anti-climax. It's as if Bido wanted to pay homage to Dario Argento's Deep Red by way of Michelangelo Antonioni's L'Aventura ; a laudable intention, but not the best way to connect with the typical giallo viewer…
The score, credited to Stelvio Cipriani but sounding suspiciously like Goblin for the most part, is likewise a mixed blessing. It manages to raise the tension effectively yet also sounds a touch out of place, too slick and modern for the setting.
Anchor Bay's Region 1 DVD of The Bloodstained Shadow is available as part of the Giallo Collection or seperately. The disc has passable A/V quality. Though the 1.85:1 anamorphic widescreen picture does not exhibit any moments of severe damage there are noticeable, albeit low, levels of scratching and grain on several occasions. Colour and contrast are good. The audio is clear and does the job without ever being inspiring, with the English dubbing being superior to the norm.
The centrepiece extra is a 2002 interview with Bido, Solamente Bido, produced by Blue Underground and wisely proceded by a spoiler warning. Conducted in Italian and subtitled in English, it packs a lot of information on the film's casting, use of location, ideas and influences into its 13 minutes, with Bido coming across as intelligent and enthusiastic throughout.
He provides a refreshingly even-handed assessment of the film's strengths and weaknesses, correctly estimating the falling crucific scene as extremely well done whilst also acknowledging that if he were shooting the film today he would tighten up its pacing and do away with the love scenes.
Bido also explains why Cipriani's music sounds very like Goblin: Goblin were originally slated to score the film but then their record label, Cinevox, wanted too much money. Cipriani was then contracted and had his name appear on the credits, but it was Goblin who arranged and performed his score – a situation somewhat reminiscent of the Giorgio Gaslini/Goblin work on Deep Red .
A trailer and filmography round off an acceptable package of a giallo that could have been up there with the greats but in the end doesn't quite cut it.
Copyright © K H Brown 2002-2005
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