This Is Knife-Fetish Porn, I Guess?

When it comes to movies in general, and especially horror/weird films specifically, I try my hardest to be kind, though I may have issues with certain aspects of a film. I mean, someone took the time to write, film, edit, and release a movie. I haven't done it. And so what if it stinks? As Ferris Bueller once said, "I don't even have a piece of shit; I have to envy yours."

Unfortunately, everyone has a line that sometimes gets crossed. Mine has been crossed by the Matrix movies and pretty much EVERYTHING directed by Zach Snyder (he has replaced Tony Scott as most annoying director in my book). When that line gets crossed by someone you respect, it hurts almost as bad as having a paper cut on your finger while handling salt and lemon juice. It is a sharp, sudden pain that goes down to the bone.

I really like Lamberto Bava as a director. I thought Macabre was a rather fine bit of Southern Gothic horror. I found both of the Demons films to be great fun with some incredible, violent set pieces and a lightly self-mocking sense of humor. Even Delirium struck me as a nicely put together shocker.

Then I watched A Blade in the Dark. If only I could take back ever putting it into my DVD player, I would.

The film starts with a scene that lured me in like a rube to a carny sideshow. Three boys (one of them being Giovanni Frezza, best known for his role of little Bob in Fulci's The House by the Cemetery) sneak into a dark building. The two dark-haired kids taunt Giovanni's character, calling him a "FE-male" when he hesitates to go after a tennis ball one of the kids tossed down some even darker stairs. Keep in mind the original Italian title of the film was La casa con la scala nel buio (House of Dark Stairs). Cute little Bob -- sorry, Giovanni -- makes his way down the stairs and disappears in the darkness. Within seconds, we hear him scream. The two boys at the top of the stairs start to freak out just as the tennis ball, now covered in blood, flies up the stairs and bounces off the walls, leaving bloodstains everywhere it hits.

That is one hell of a beginning. Sadly, it turns out that what we saw was part of a movie being made by a character in the movie we are now suddenly dropped into. The movie we get is about a composer working on the score for the thriller from which the opening scene was taken. We meet our rather small cast of characters a few at a time, and the graphic murders that giallo films are known for begin paring down the female characters.

Up front, I'm going to cut the film some slack simply because the dubbing is awful. We are talking groan inducing stuff here. Whoever wrote the English translation appears to have done so with no concept of human conversation flow and without watching the film at all. Case in point, in one scene, a character is frightened of an ugly-ass spider, but our "hero", Bruno, informs her that it is a cockroach. Maybe he needs glasses, but that was a spider, one fucking ugly spider and probably the most unnerving thing in the film after the opening scene.

Most of the actors seem to be in different movies. Bruno, our main character, is surrounded by murders and confusion yet he acts like he was dosed with Xanax. The soon-to-be victims are perky and cute like they stumbled out of an American teen sex comedy. The groundskeeper of the villa, where 90% of the action takes place, ranges from moody and weird to just a really nice guy, simply because the story needs to create suspects. Bruno's girlfriend changes emotions so fast you'll swear she has multiple-personality disorder. Again, some of this is the fault of dubbing, but I'm looking at the actors and the director for a big chunk of the blame for the physical part of the off-center acting.

The film is needlessly padded, going so far as to include a number of shots of a character's head as he drives. Nowhere else in the film are we treated to these in-the-car shots until the director attempts to up the suspense. It doesn't work. In fact, it is so jarring that it kicked me completely out of what little investment I had in the film. Other instances are endless shots of blades (knives and a box cutter) and what are supposed to be "artistic" and "stylish" camera angles that draw attention to the fact that we are watching a movie.

Here we come to the weird focal point of this film, and that is the shots of blades. Over and over. We got it, Mr. Bava. Phallic symbols. Yes, yes. Oh, and the killer slowly extending the box cutter blade to its fullest just before attacking a woman. Okay! Enough! What? Now you give us a long carving knife held at the angle of a fully erect penis? It penetrates the victims? Jeez, just make a porn flick and get it out of your system!

In case you care to watch the film, I won't give away the ending, but I will say that if Lamberto Bava had made the movie being made within this movie, I would probably be singing praises here.

I know this film has a lot of fans, and if they find joy here, I am happy for them. Truly, I am. For me, it apes so much of Dario Argento's imagery and style that I feel like I'm watching a failed early version of Tenebre instead of a Lamberto Bava film. 

Actually, if I view it as a spoof of classic giallo films, the movie suddenly becomes much more entertaining. Maybe I'll try that if I can bring myself to sit through it again.