(This is why I never go out for a walk at night - because I might see fucked-up shite I don't want to see)
CAST: Tony Musante, Suzy Kendall, Eva Renzi, Enrico Maria Salerno, Guiseppe Castellano, Mario Adorf, Umberto Raho, Renato Romano.
DIRECTOR: Dario Argento
WARNING: SPOILERS and "more-than-meets-the-eye" cleverness right up ahead.
Most mainstream audiences are not familiar with the name "Dario Argento." Indeed, if someone knows who he is, you can pretty much assume that person is also: (1) a confirmed movie buff and (2) a big fan of Italian suspense thrillers and (3) is probably a little, um, different. Because Argento's films themselves are a little different. They are prime examples of an Italian sub-genre that has been termed "Giallo" - the Italian word for the color yellow.
See, in the 50's and 60's, most suspense and mystery novels in Italy had yellow covers to distinguish them from other books - and the nickname stuck. Today, a "Giallo" film is one that features several key characteristics: (1) an American protagonist in an overseas location (usually Spain or Italy), who (2) is inadvertently drawn into a sinister mystery, and (3) finds little or no assistance from the local police, then (4) is forced to conduct an investigation on his/her own, only to (5) be stalked by a raincoated-and-black-gloved killer that (6) attacks and murders anyone who might be able to help the protagonist, in setpieces that can only be described as terrifying and stylish in equal measure. Oh, and the killer's motivation is usually rooted in some deep, dark secret from the past that the protagonist is trying to uncover and the killer is viciously trying to protect.
Mario Bava's THE GIRL WHO KNEW TOO MUCH (1963) is the first real "Giallo" and was fashioned as somewhat of an homage to the Master of Suspense, Alfred Hitchcock. Then Dario Argento took the themes and motifs of that first film - and buffed them to a glossy and terrifying sheen.
Between 1970 and 1987, Argento wrote and helmed eight Giallos that took the framework sketched out by Bava - and fleshed it out to vibrant and scary life, leading Argento to be called "The Italian Hitchcock." Indeed, the Master of Suspense himself took notice of Argento, especially after the release of DEEP RED in 1975. The first of those eight films created during Argento's "Golden Age" is also one of the best - THE BIRD WITH THE CRYSTAL PLUMAGE.
Our hero is Sam Dalmas (Tony Musante), an American writer in Rome who is headed back to the US of A in a few days. Evidently, he's been doing the expat-in-Europe thing for a few years and hasn't been entirely satisfied with it. Which, frankly, is incomprehensible to me. I mean, this is Italy for crying out loud - Land of Everything Beautiful. At least he was productive and got a book on birds published during his time there - which is more than most writers back then ever accomplished. It's not like today where you can, you know, start a blog and pass it off as, ahem, literature. Not that I know anyone like that.
Anyhow, Sam has also picked up a girlfriend during his tenure in Italia, and she is Julia (Suzy Kendall) a British model who is forever on assignment and shows up intermittently in Rome just long enough to lecture Sam on any subject you care to mention. By the way, it should be noted that she is British - and not Italian. Yes, folks - Sam came all the way to Italy, ignored all the smokin' hot Italo-babes, and got a British girlfriend. Just file this away under "Further Proof that Sam Dalmas is a Colossal Choad."
Anyhow, when our story begins Julia is away on another location shoot - the last one before she accompanies Sam back to States. Sam spends the last few days he has in Italy trying to collect his payment for that book on birds. And by the way, when I say that the book is about birds, I don't mean the two-legged kind. Again, I must emphasize another factoid about Sam - he came to Italy to write about... flying mammals. Instead about the native women’s fabulous mammary glands. Once more, file this factoid under the label mentioned above.
But back to Sam and his money-chasing. He manages to get the check, and when asked by his publisher if he would like a copy of the book, he holds up said check and graciously replies, "Who needs that fucking thing when I have this?" Clearly, Sam is not in the writing biz to touch people's hearts.
Unfortunately, on his way home to the love shack he shares with Julia, Sam wanders by an art gallery with a glass front. Almost immediately, he notices something is off. As in: on the mezzanine overlooking the gallery, a man and a woman are standing by some sculptures. Except they're not exactly admiring the sculptures. In fact, their attention seems to be focused on one another.
In case the pervs among you think I mean they are making out, permit me to burst your bubble by stating that they are most definitely not. In fact, they seem to be grappling with a knife - and the woman is bleeding. That's where the "something is off" part comes in. Leaping into action, Sam rushes into the gallery. The black-clad killer sees him coming and hightails it out of there, leaving the woman in white to bleed on the gallery floor.
Unfortunately, Sam's not quite the gallant rescuer he made himself out to be - and gets trapped in the foyer outside the gallery. Inside, the woman in white continues bleeding and moaning out of (1) pain, (2) terror, and (3) disappointment that her would-be rescuer now needs rescuing himself. Dipshit.
At any rate, the police arrive. And if you expected them to swoop in and secure the crime scene with military precision, you clearly have not been to Italy. Don't get me wrong: the country has the (1) most beautiful people in the world, (2) the most stylish clothing in the universe, and (3) the most delicious food in the solar system. What it does not have is a sense of urgency. That belongs to the Germans, the Brits, and us Yanks. The Italians are there as eye candy - and they're proud of it.
But I digress. Anyhow, we meet Inspector Morosini (Enrico Maria Palermo) who casually strolls about the gallery like it is a bar and he is looking for someone to pick up. Turning his nose up at the bleeding chick on the floor, he makes a beeline for Sam and asks him what the hell he's doing there. When Sam says he's an eyewitness, Morosini perks up majorly. I shall explain why later, because Morosini's questioning is interrupted by the arrival of Signore Ranieri (Umberto Raho), who owns the gallery and whose wife is the bleeding chick that almost got filleted. She is named Monica (Eva Renzi). "MONICA!!!!" bellows Ranieri in such a histrionic (even for an Italian) display of concern that you immediately begin to suspect the prick of being the killer.
Back to Sam, whom the police take to police HQ where they inform him of several interesting things: (1) the attack on Monica was the latest in a series of serial murders of women that has plagued Rome lately, (2) Monica is the first victim to escape an attack, (3) the police have had no leads until now, and (4) they suspect of Sam of being the killer. Sam stares at them for, like, a second before asking how he could be the killer when he was trying to rescue Monica. Morosini just laughs and posits that Sam might have been trying to escape - instead of trying to help.
Unable to argue with such iron-clad Italian logic, and further frustrated by Morosini's decision to confiscate his passport to prevent him from leaving Italy, Sam pretty much decides to play detective and try to unravel the case on his own. Or maybe he just knows that if he relies on Morosini and his Merry Band of Guido Keystone Cops, he'll never be able to leave Italy. Which, actually, may not be bad thing. But that's just me.
So begins Sam's career as, uh, Nancy Drew - but much, much, much more butch. His snooping leads him to trace the movements of the first victim, who evidently worked in a painting store. There, Sam questions the owner, who is about as masculine as Boy George. Pretty much undressing Sam with his eyes, the owner prances about like a poodle in heat.
Sam, for his part, looks at little disconcerted, but is determined to get to the bottom of the mystery. So, he does what any determined hetero would do in a such a circumstance - he bats his eyelashes back, and in such a way that makes the Italian Boy George look like Burt Reynolds. Hmmmm.... I knew there was something about Sam. At any rate, this works and the horny store owner practically vomits information into Sam's lap.
To wit, it appears that the girl who was murdered (1) worked there as a clerk, (2) sold a painting to an unknown customer the day of her murder, (3) then left work early, (4) and got the Cuisinart treatment in a nearby park that night. Intrigued, Sam asks if he can see a copy of the painting that was sold.
The owner, so very horny now, probably would've drawn the fucking thing all over again if it meant a shot at Sam's pecker. Fortunately, he doesn't have to because he keeps photographs of all the paintings in the store. Basically, the conversation goes a little something like this:
SCENE BEGINS
Sam requests to "borrow" the picture.
Horny Shop Owner says "no!"
Sam bats his eyelashes, gives Horny Shop Owner some serious "puppy dog eyes," and says "Pleeeeeeaaaaassssse?"
Horny Shop Owner comes hard - right there in the store - and practically shoves the picture into Sam's pocket.
Triumphant, Sam skedaddles out of there before the Italian Boy George can recover from his orgasm.
SCENE ENDS
Returning to his flat in Rome, Sam and Julia examine the painting - which looks like a fifth-grader's rendering of woman being tickled to death by a man in black. Swear to God. This, evidently, is the key to the mystery.
Meanwhile, Sam continues his Nancy Drew antics and is rewarded by the following events: (1) someone stalking him through the fog-shrouded streets of Rome and (2) nearly chopping his head off with a machete, (3) the killer calling him at home and cackling and wheezing like a psychotic asthma patient, and (4) Julia sensibly calling him on his Nancy Drew antics. "Isn't playing detective just a little bit ridiculous - not to mention, dangerous?" Julia coos, obviously a quick study.
Unfortunately, Sam is a stubborn ass and continues his line of inquiry, following more clues that lead him to - and I swear I'm not making this up - the following colorful characters: (1) a convict who stammers and has to say "So long!" to be able to control it, leading Sam to get up from his seat about eleven times, thinking the conversation has just ended - again; (2) a painter who claims to have painted that creepy painting of the woman being tickled to death, and subsists on a steady diet of... cats (yes, cats - as in meowburgers); and (3) an assassin who likes to blend into the darkness and surprise his victims by wearing... a bright yellow jacket.
Oh, and Sam even questions Monica when she recovers, believing she is the most vital element of the mystery because she actually survived. Unfortunately, before she can give him anything useful, Signore Ranieri swoops in like the histrionic Drama Queen that he is and squires her away. Hmmmmm. Wonder why? Could he be the... nah.... that would be too obvious. Ahem.
Meanwhile, as Sam goes around trying to put all these pieces together in a way that makes some sort of coherent sense, the murders continue: (1) a woman gets attacked in her own bedroom, (2) another woman foolishly climbs a darkened stairwell and walks right into the killer, and (3) Julia is almost killed in their flat while Sam is away trying to uncover the origins of that fucked-up painting. This sequence is particularly hilarious because it shows Julia - our cool, competent, and capable heroine - defend herself by... suddenly falling apart and crying on the floor of the flat, as the killer chops away at the front door with a knife and a rock. Huh? Is this the same chick from the first part of the movie? Or is it her wimpier twin? What. The. Hell?
At any rate, before we can wonder any further, Sam shows up and (sigh) saves the day. Julia wakes up the next morning to find herself safe in his arms. Meanwhile, we shake our heads and wonder how we could've been so wrong about her. Anyway, this turns out to be their last day in Italy. Seems Sam finally tired of playing Nancy Drew and got his passport back from that lazy bastard Morosini, who evidently confiscated the fucking thing so Sam could do his job for him. Bravo, Morosini!
Unfortunately, before Sam and Julia can leave, they receive a call from their pal, Carlo (Renato Romano), who is a professor on birds - the very same one who commissioned Sam to write that fucking book from the beginning of the movie. Turns out that during one of the killer's calls to Sam, Julia's had the presence-of-mind to record the call - and in the background was a strange sound that sounded eerily like... a bird's cawing.
Conveniently, Carlo's expertise and research leads them to discover it’s none other than the distinctive sound of a bird that can only be found in Northern Siberia. How then to explain the presence of one in the decidedly balmy climes of Rome? Easy: there happens to be one at a zoo in town - and guess what couple lives right next door? If you say, "Why, the Ranieris, of course..." then you might as well finish writing this review.
Sure enough, just as Sam and Julia and Carlo are following this lead at the zoo, they hear screams from the apartment building next door - and rush upstairs to find Ranieri attacking Monica, a knife caught between them. Before she can get hurt, Monica is pulled away by Julia and Carlo - while Sam and Ranieri play Roshambo for Monica' s honor. Needless to say, Ranieri loses.
By "loses," I mean "falls six stories to the pavement." Dying on the ground, Ranieri confesses to being the killer, and begs the cops to take care of his wife. Please. These guys can barely take care of their own wives. What makes this clown think they'll take care of Monica?
So.... case solved. Or is it? Stop reading now if you want to stay in the dark about the film's final twist.
Okay. you asked for it.
After the ambulance wheels Ranieri away, Sam notices that he hasn't seen Carlo, Julia, or Monica ever since they first busted into the apartment to save the latter. You'd think Morosini and his uniformed gorillas would want to, I don't know, question them. But, nope: the cops are out of there like they have someplace much better to be. Which, in their minds, is probably anything that doesn't have to do with work. Which is why they move with uncommon urgency. Uncommon because this is Italy.
Anyhow, Sam is left alone to search for the Three Musketeers. After several hours of investigating and uncovering clues that are based on the fact that Julia has blonde hair, Sam finally manages to track them down to an apartment where he discovers that: (1) Carlo has been stabbed to death, (2) Julia has been trussed up like a turkey and is about to be stabbed to death, and (3) the killer is - GASP! - Monica Ranieri.
Yes. Monica Ranieri is our killer, folks...
After a cat-and-mouse chase scene that leads from the apartment and into the very same gallery where Sam first witnessed Monica being "attacked" by her husband, Sam finally realizes the truth about that night: the knife was actually in Monica's hand - and she was trying to killer her husband, whom we couldn't identify because of the black hat and coat. Not the other way around.
Turns out Signore Ranieri knew that his wife was the killer and was trying to, I don't know, subdue her or something - but she wasn't having it. Sam doesn't have much time to digest this bombshell before Monica drops a sculpture on him, pinning him to the ground. Fortunately, before Monica can add Sam to her lengthy list of cuckolds/victims, Morosini and his gorillas finally decide to do some police work - by sweeping in and (swear to God) judo-chopping Monica in the back of the neck.
The final scenes show Sam and Julia finally boarding their flight to the US of A, while Morosini - the deadbeat - preens on Italian TV, bragging about how he caught Jacqueline The Ripper. Evidently, Monica was attacked by a psycho when she was a teenager, and the attack was the subject of the painting at the Italian Boy George's shop. Monica came across it after all these years, and all the memories came flooding back. But instead of identifying with the victim that she was back then - she identified with the killer, this time. Leading her to embark on a murder spree. Or something.
Like I said, you watch Argento movies for the sheer beauty of the imagery and atmosphere. Because if you watched it for iron-clad logic, you might just poke your eyes out with your remote.
BUT, SERIOUSLY: Paving the way not only for future Giallos, but also for many future mainstream thrillers, THE BIRD WITH THE CRYSTAL PLUMAGE is tense, suspenseful, stylish, and ground-breaking. With this movie, Dario Argento established many of his much-imitated trademarks: the black-gloved killer, the intricate mystery, the suspenseful set-pieces, and the surprise revelation at the end. Very much deserving his title as "The Italian Hitchcock," Argento took many of Alfred Hitchcock's motifs - and then upped the ante, giving them punch and oomph.
Argento's style is copied to this day. All one has to do is to look at films like THE NINTH GATE, VALENTINE, WHITE OF THE EYE, THE BEDROOM WINDOW, FLATLINERS, and the SCREAM series to feel Argento's influence. Often placing style over substance, he succeeds in creating memorable atmospherics and surreal set-pieces that linger long after the end credits have rolled.
With THE BIRD WITH THE CRYSTAL PLUMAGE, Argento is just flexing his muscles. As a result, the film is probably a little less colorful than his later work like DEEP RED and SUSPIRIA. But it is definitely one of his stronger plots, and everything ties together reasonably well in the end - with a twist that is definitely unexpected and all the more shocking because it was right in front of you the whole time.
Tony Musante is an engaging lead, and Suzy Kendall is elegant and sexy as his loyal girlfriend. Enrico Maria Salerno is suitably gruff and amusing as Morosini, while Umberto Raho is the right amount of classy and cagey as Ranieri. Last, but certainly not the least, Eva Renzi is deceptively meek and tentative as Monica - and believably feral later on when she shows her true colors. Indeed, Argento was ahead of his time by making his killer a woman.
And regarding the other woman of the plot, Julia is a capable and competent heroine - until the scene where she is trapped by the killer in her apartment. The speed at which she falls apart is astonishing - and dismaying. This is the only real misstep in the whole film. While the scene is downright terrifying and one of the film's best set-pieces (and pre-figured Shelley Duvall's similar scene in THE SHINING), Julia's unexpectedly weak reaction to it somewhat disappoints. But then again, that might be why the scene is so scary - because of Julia's sudden passivity. Hmmmmm. At any rate, Argento would correct this by featuring heroines that remain in control in his future films.
All in all, THE BIRD WITH THE CRYSTAL PLUMAGE is a strong first step in The Italian Hitchcock's oeuvre. And one that has set the standard for many thrillers to come.
