‘You’ve seen the way they work: experts in karate and bingo.’
A young woman is murdered in the crowded compartment of an express train. One of the passengers is suspected, while another knows the identity of the killer but uses the knowledge to commit blackmail…
Somewhat messy Italian-Greek co-production from director Maurizio Pradeaux. Wrestling with some of the usual Giallo conventions are American stars, Leonard Mann and Robert Webber.
Reading his newspaper in the corridor of the Istanbul to Athens Express train gives Raul (Nikos Verlekis) a break from his travelling companion, nightclub singer Ulla (Susy Jennings). A figure in a black raincoat drops a pair of gloves after using the restroom, and he retrieves them from the floor. However, before he can return them, the train enters a tunnel, and the carriage is plunged into darkness when the lights fail to turn on. In the confusion, a young woman, Annie Theroux (Anthi Andreopoulou), is stabbed and killed. Investigating Inspector Caratese (Webber) has five suspects, the other passengers travelling in the same compartment. Fashion photographer Luciano Morelli (Mann) is at the top of his list because his letter opener was used as the murder weapon.
Mann protests his innocence, backed up by his girlfriend, Ingrid Stelmosson (Vera Krouska), a successful model. Also in the carriage were priest Omar Effendi (Antonio Maimone), Ida Tuclidis (Barbara Seidel), who is married to a wealthy industrialist, and Lebanese businessman Ben Amuchin (Nazzareno Macri). Webber establishes that the lights on the train were sabotaged by the killer cutting some wires in the restroom at the end of the carriage. Meanwhile, Verlekis and Jennings have hatched a blackmail scheme, using the dropped gloves as leverage to extort money from the killer. When he arranges a late-night rendezvous with the killer, he becomes another victim, but the glove is still hidden in his apartment.
Pradeaux, who co-wrote the script with Arpad DeRiso, had previous experience with the Giallo, having directed the slightly turgid entry ‘Death Carries a Cane/Passi di danza su una lama di rasoio’ (1973). He had also collaborated with DeRiso and others on that script, so the improvement that comes with experience might have been reasonably expected here. However, the reverse is true, as this project is considerably inferior, although it retains the occasional moment of visual flair that was also present in the earlier movie. At first glance, the notion of an ‘impossible murder’ committed in a tiny train compartment filled with passengers seems like an excellent hook for a story. Unfortunately, it needs to be explained in a credible way, and Pradeaux falls down on the job completely.
The first issue is that the audience is supposed to accept that the killer has an intimate working knowledge of the wiring arrangements of lighting for the train carriage. That’s a bit of a stretch in itself but that’s the least of Pradeaux’s problems. Possession and the use of that information suggests pre-mediation but that’s ridiculous when the rest of the circumstances point to a ‘spur of the moment’ action. The killer hasn’t even brought a weapon as they snatch up Mann’s letter opener (in the dark!) to do the job. But there’s worse. On the trip to the restroom, the killer wears the familiar Giallo uniform, a black raincoat and gloves. The gloves aren’t a continuity problem but what about the raincoat? The audience sees the passengers in the compartment both before and after the murder. No one is wearing it. Where did it come from? Where did it go? And why put it on in the first place?!
The main issue, though, is the absence of a clear narrative throughline. It seems at first as if this will be Mann’s story, the familiar ‘fish out of water’ accused of a crime that he didn’t commit and forced to catch the killer to prove his innocence. But Pradeaux spends as much time on Webber’s investigation and as much time again on Verlekis and Jennings’ blackmailing activities. This results in Mann being offscreen for long periods, giving the film a fragmentary, unfocused feel. Mann is also saddled with airhead Krouska, who is so spectacularly dim that she has zero appreciation of the seriousness of his situation. Her stupidity is played for laughs, and Krouska’s performance is rather charming, which is very fortunate. However, it doesn’t really gel with the murder sequences, which come with brief shots of throat slitting, the killer’s bloodshot eyeball and partially successful attempts to emulate the style of kills in much better films.
These problems would be forgivable with a strong final act but, instead, the plot collapses into a huge pile of steaming absurdity. Mann and Krouska need a gold bust of Jennings’ head as part of their plan to unmask the killer (don’t ask!). Unfortunately, the wealthy businessman who commissioned the piece won’t give it up. So Mann hires a female safecracker, but on the night of the intended burglary has to accept her inexperienced teenage daughter, Little Baffo (Albertina Capuani), as a stand-in. Despite the trio’s general ineptitude, they pull off the heist, but only with some hilarious mishaps on the way. Then, the suspects are invited to a public fashion show, and the killer’s true identity is revealed in the most ridiculous way imaginable. Webber then wraps everything up with a few hurried sentences of generic exposition featuring some pretty basic information that’s news to the audience. It’s almost as if everyone realised how silly the whole enterprise had become and decided to play it all for laughs. Maybe it was supposed to be a comedy all along? Whatever the intentions were, the results don’t work.
From a technical standpoint, it’s also an odd mishmash. There are some moments of filmmaking quality in the horrific scenes, and Pradeaux certainly knows how to use a location to its best advantage. Some wonderfully framed shots that showcase the historic sights of Athens look truly ravishing, thanks to the cinematography of Aldo Ricci. On the other hand, there’s a sex scene between Jennings and her lesbian lover (Imelde Marani) that’s shot in such extreme close-ups that it more appropriately belongs in an adult movie. I guess it looked good in the trailer, though. But the real problem is the poorly thought-out, ridiculous script. Gathering all the story threads in a balanced and cohesive way would have been a tough call for any filmmaker, and Pradeaux is just not up to the job.
Webber may never have been a household name in his native United States, but his face would have been immediately familiar to generations of the television audience. To list his small screen credits would take all day, but his multiple guest slots included appearances on hit shows like ‘Route 66’, ‘The Outer Limits’, ‘Ben Casey’, ‘The Fugitive’, ‘The Virginian’, ‘Mannix’, ‘Mission: Impossible’, ‘Kojak’, ‘Ironside’, ‘Police Woman’, ‘Cannon’, ‘The Streets of San Francisco’ and ‘Moonlighting.’ He was not as successful in theatres but still ran up an impressive list of film credits as a supporting actor, often playing senior military men. Such projects included ‘The Dirty Dozen’ (1967), ‘Private Benjamin’ (1980), ‘Battle of Midway’ (1976) and ‘Who Dares Wins’ (1982). He’s best remembered, though, for his early role as ‘Juror 12’ in Sidney Lumet’s timeless classic ’12 Angry Men’ (1957).
Poorly conceived and poorly executed. One to skip.