‘The great power…the cosmic egg…the anti-universe!’
An American archaeologist discovers a secret Etruscan tomb in Italy, but, back in New York, his wife is having nightmares that feature ritual human sacrifice. During a telephone call between them, he is murdered in apparently impossible circumstances…
Supernatural Giallo brought to the screen by director Sergio Martino and writer Ernesto Gastaldi. Elvire Audray and Paolo Marco star, with notable appearances from Americans John Saxon and Van Johnson.
Noted archaeologist Arthur Barnard (John Saxon) is working in Italy, sponsored by his senior colleague and father-in-law, Mulligan (Johnson). After arranging for the shipment of Etruscan artefacts back to America, he meets old man Masaccio (Maurizio Mattiolo) at the dig site, who saves him from a deadly snake. Later that night, he calls his wife Joan (Audray) in New York with exciting news. However, before he can elaborate, he is murdered, his head almost twisted from his body. The investigations of the local Police Commissioner (Gianfranco Barra) meet with no success, so Audray flies out to the scene of the crime, accompanied by Mike Grant (Malco), who has been studying archaeology with her father.
When he died, Saxon was staying with the Contessa Maria Volumna (Marilù Tolo), but she cannot explain how it happened. At the dig site, Audray encounters Mattiolo, who takes her to the hidden tomb her husband had discovered. There, she finds a shipping crate filled with heroin and realises that her father and Tolo are smuggling drugs for the mob back home. The tomb also contains a fresco showing an Etruscan princess to whom she bears a stunning resemblance. Academics Professor Sorensen (Anita Laurenzi) and her assistant Paolo Domelli (Claudio Cassinelli) translate the inscription above it, but Audray doesn’t need their help; somehow, she already knows what it says.
Unusual mixture of horror, murder mystery and mysticism that’s initially intriguing but fails to deliver on any of its promise. However, before passing judgment, it’s necessary to appreciate that this 98-minute theatrical feature initially screened on Italian television as a mini-series, a circumstance it shares with the same year’s ‘The Secret of Seagull Island/L’Isola Del Gabbiano/Seagull Island (1982). The original show apparently ran for seven one-hour episodes, so allowing for commercials, probably more than three and a half hours of original footage has been trimmed from the theatrical version.
Such drastic editing would seem to dictate an inevitable amount of narrative incoherence, but, much like with ‘The Secret of Seagull Island/L’Isola Del Gabbiano/Seagull Island’ (1982), that’s not really the case. The only obvious effect is a lop-sided structure, with the drug-running subplot mainly resolved by the film’s only significant action scene, which takes place around the one-hour mark. Several main protagonists depart the proceedings here, with important characters Laurenzi and Cassinelli only arriving in the film’s final third. It’s interesting to speculate what footage remained on the cutting room floor from the television series, but, if ‘The Secret of Seagull Island/L’Isola Del Gabbiano/Seagull Island’ (1982) is any yardstick, it would have been inconsequential dialogue and scene-setting.
As it is, what remains is distinctly underwhelming. The constraints of television production are visible throughout, from the lack of cinematic scale and shot composition to the flat, bloodless murders. The concept of a killer twisting heads around until they are facing the wrong way is quite a novel one, but when the results are rendered by the actors just playing dead with their clothes the wrong way around, the necessary impact is sadly lacking. The only flair on display arrives with Audray’s nightmare and visions, which mostly focus on maggots and lots of smoke. This mystical aspect is potentially interesting, but instead just informs the ridiculous finalé, which is more likely to have the audience rolling in the aisles than anything else. The film’s been vaguely circling ‘Raiders of the Lost Ark’ (1981) territory for a little while before the end, but the sudden lurch into full-on ‘Indiana Jones’ territory needs to be far better staged and executed than it is here.
There’s also an issue with expecting newcomer Audray to shoulder most of the film’s dramatic weight. Not only was this her first leading role, but it may have also been her screen debut, as it was one of several projects she had released in 1982. Unfortunately, the screenplay saddles her with almost no character development and a hefty quantity of corny dialogue, particularly in the scenes where the audience is supposed to accept her as the reincarnation of an Etruscan princess. She’s not assisted by some lifeless English dubbing, either. Although Saxon, Johnson and the other principal players seem to have voiced their own dialogue, hers sounds as if the job went elsewhere, and the lifeless vocal delivery only highlights her lack of screen personality. The remainder of the cast doesn’t seem particularly fussed either, although veteran Johnson tries his best to inject some life into his scenes.
This film is a significant disappointment then, particularly given the presence of Martino in the director’s chair and the involvement of Gastaldi as a co-writer. Martino had first tackled the Giallo with outstanding example ‘The Strange Vice of Mrs. Wardh/Lo strano vizio della signora Wardh’ (1971), and had followed that with a quartet of high quality entries; ‘The Case of the Scorpion’s Tail/La coda dello scorpione’ (1971), ‘All the Colors of the Dark/Tutti i colori del buio’ (1972), ‘Your Vice Is a Locked Room and Only I Have the Key/Il tuo vizio è una stanza chiusa e solo io ne ho la chiave’ (1972) and ‘Torso/I corpi presentano tracce di violenza carnale’ (1973). All of these projects had featured writing input from Gastaldi, who had been on the ground floor of the Giallo since almost the very beginning, working uncredited on both the offbeat classic ‘The Possessed/La Donna del Lago’ (1965) and the superb ‘Libido’ (1965), which he also directed. He’d also been behind the typewriter for some of the formative efforts of the late 1960s, which had starred famous Hollywood refugee Carroll Baker.
Johnson was born in Rhode Island in 1916 and was raised by his paternal grandmother. After taking singer and dancing lessons during high school, he tried to break into show business on Broadway, working in chorus lines and various revues. Eventually, he landed an understudy role in a show called ‘Too Many Girls’ in 1939, where he befriended actor Desi Arnaz. When Arnaz went to Hollywood to make the film version, Johnson went along, although he only secured a minor part in the picture. This appearance resulted in a contract with Warner Bros, but the studio dropped him within the year. Arnaz’s wife, starlet Lucille Ball, persuaded MGM to screentest him, and he was subsequently cast in significant roles in several war pictures. A serious off-set car accident while he was filming ‘A Guy Named Joe’ (1943) resulted in a metal plate being inserted in his skull, but the film was a hit, and Johnson was a star.
Popular comedies and more war stories followed, but his popularity waned as the war ended and bigger stars returned from their service overseas. He transitioned into musicals, second leads and character roles, enjoying significant success in hits like ‘Brigadoon’ (1954) and ‘The Caine Mutiny’ (1954), starring Humphrey Bogart. When the studios began to break up, he reinvented himself as a nightclub performer and popular draw on the dinner theatre circuit. Eventually, he moved into television, where he had a long and lucrative career, taking guest slots on many popular shows. He was nominated for an Emmy for his work on the mini-series ‘Rich Man, Poor Man’ (1976) and took the occasional big screen role in films such as Woody Allen’s ‘The Purple Rose of Cairo’ (1985) and ‘Killer Crocodile’ (1989). He passed away at the age of 92 in 2008.
The creative team has an enviable track record, and the story sounds intriguing and fun, but the only outcome for the audience is weary boredom.