Finalmente... le mille e una notte / Les mille et une nuits érotiques / 1001 Nights of Pleasure

One of the basic criticisms made of filone cinema is that it it was imitative. Clearly imitation and innovation are placed in hierarchical terms, the latter valued above the former. But what then isn’t clear is what we should make of non-filone art films when they themselves form series.

Should Pasolini have made The Canterbury Tales and The Arabian Nights after The Decameron? Should there have been a Trilogy of Life? Why couldn’t he have said everything he wanted to in the one film?

These questions are all the more important here in that what we have is a Decamerotic made in imitation of The Decameron but which takes as its source text The 1001 Nights – and this a good year or two before Pasolini’s version.

Antonio Margheriti’s approach is very different from Pasolini’s, of course, but this serves to further establish that the film and other Decamerotics were selectively rather than slavishly imitative, tending to get rid of the more serious elements.








Though probably not a particularly big-budget film, the money is all there on the screen.

Taken in its own right the film has a lot going for it, with attractive locations, production design and costumes – the last often not amounting to much as far as the female cast are concerned.

It is also pretty funny in places.

The film consists of three stories – how far they are actually found in The 1001 Nights I cannot say – vaguely connected by a framing device in which sultan Al Mamoun challenges three storytellers to arouse him with erotic / pornographic tales in order that he can satisfy the latest addition to his harem, Zumurud, incarnated by Femi Benussi.


Benussi's boobs

The first of the three stories features another arbitrary and unjust sultan whose magic mirror tells him that he is not the greatest lover in the kingdom. He has the man who is sought out and sets him a test intended to demonstrate otherwise. Inevitably it doesn’t do what the sultan wanted...


More boobs, and some strategically placed fruit

This also means, however, that the storyteller’s work fails to satisfy Al Mamoun, who has him executed. Cue the second storyteller, whose fate is equally certain.

The second stort features Aladdin – or more exactly an Aladdin – and a Genie. Aladdin has the genie turn him invisible in order that he can sneak into a rich merchant’s house and make love to his wife Mariam, incarnated by Barbara Bouchet. Aladdin then makes use of a flying carpet to sneak her away. This flying carpet is distinguished by not going down until whoever is using it also ‘goes down’. Aladdin doesn’t have a problem with this when it is Bouchet, but inevitably the husband soon ends up on the flying carpet instead...


Bouchet auditions for The Sex Life of the Invisible Man

The third story begins with a parody of a spaghetti western as a mysterious stranger arrives in town to take up the challenge of satisfying a cruel princess thirteen times in one night. He proves more than up to this thanks to some duplicity that’s nicely, well, mirrored in Margeriti’s compositions...

Quintana / Quintana: Dead or Alive

This 1969 Euro-western entry comes across as a hybrid of the spaghetti western and the Zorro film, with the former supplying most of the iconography – duster coats, ponchos, six guns – and the latter the bulk of the plot, which revolves around the conflict between the titular masked hero and ruthless landowner Juan De Leyra, happy to see a man executed for a crime he didn’t commit and / or to use this as leverage against the man’s beautiful fiancée.

The result is something which is especially interesting historically, if not always as successful on aesthetic or entertainment grounds.

In his seminal study Sixguns and Society, Will Wright proposes that the structures of western films from 1930 to 1970 could be seen as passing through four broad phases in terms of the relationship between the protagonists, the antagonists and the wider society. In the first phase, the classical western, the protagonists fought on behalf of a weak society. In the last phase, the professional western, society was essentially an irrelevance. Wright saw this shift as relating to changes in the structure of US capitalism, in particular the post-WWII rise of the technocracy.

Being based on the biggest box-office earners in the USA, Wright’s study only included one Italian western, The Good the Bad and the Ugly. He classified Leone’s film as being closest to a professional western, on the grounds that society plays little part in the three men’s treasure hunt. While there are obvious issues here in translating between the US and Italian contexts, as Frayling and others have emphasised, it is nevertheless notable that the protagonist of the spaghetti western is after vengeance – another of Wright’s plots, with another configuration of protagonist, antagonist and society relations – and / or money the majority of the time. Though the wider society might benefit as well, it tends to do so indirectly.




Quintana surprises his American would-be killers

Here Quintana is very much integrated into the society he is both a member and defender of. Though he might thus be understood in terms of the kind of bell tower loyalty seen in the spaghetti, the difference is that his action is selfless – few know his real identity, although the viewer does – and not geared towards the benefit of a family type group but rather the class of the peasantry as a whole. The defeat of De Leyra and his forces is thereby more a collective rather than individual good.

One particularly significant scene in this regard is the one where Quintana mounts a daring solo raid on De Leyra’s stronghold that results in the successful rescue of one prisoner – admittedly the one he was primarily concerned with – and the gunning down of a dozen or so others. Back home, Quintana’s actions and motives are called into question, whether his display of individualism wasn’t that of a glory seeker detrimental to the wider goal.

Another point of note here is the relationship between Quintana and the local monks. If the poor man’s choice is between becoming a bandit or a beggar, as per the discussion between Tuco and Padre Ramirez in The Good, the Bad and the Ugly, both bandit and priest are here presented as social roles.

Actor turned producer-writer-director Vincenzo Musolini / Glen Vincent Davis's visuals are dominated by zooms and Dutch angles. Unfortunately these tend to come across style for its own sake more than style that adds to substance. Nonetheless, it can at least be said that he tried hard and had the potential to develop into a decent filmmaker had he learnt some restraint – a potential that was to remain unfulfilled by his death in 1969 aged only 39.

Leading man Osvaldo Ruggieri / George Stevenson’s film career appears to have been even similarly short, with only one other film to his name according to the IMDB. He spends most of his time here beneath a mask and unfortunately doesn’t do much to bring his character to life beyond it.

Felice de Stefano’s at times over-emphatic music takes obvious inspiration from Ennio Morricone, with strongly-strummed guitar, a pipe organ in some of the religious scenes, and a borderline plagiarist cue taken from For a Few Dollars More.

La Ragazza di Via Condotti / La Chica de Via Condotti / le Crime de la Via Condotti / Meurtres à Rome / Special Killers / Un flic obstiné

This French-Spanish-Italian is one of those crossover films that can’t seem to make up its mind whether it wants to be a poliziotto or a giallo, featuring as it does blackmail; a sex killer; fistfights, shoot outs, assassination and car chases. Unfortunately despite – or perhaps because of this mixture of crime thriller ingredients – it fails to find a coherent identity and ends up amounting to less than the sum of its parts.

As a giallo, the most obvious point of comparison given its co-production nature; the presence of Alberto De Martino and Simon Andreu amongst the cast; the importance of blackmail and other photographs, is probably Forbidden Photos of a Lady Above Suspicion.

But, with a male protagonist, the equivalent ‘lady’ here, as incarnated by Femi Benussi, is reduced to a supporting role and is very much a suspect, being a less-than-respectable type – a stripper – who has managed to win her place in Rome society through dubious methods.

We open with a memorably shocking scene, recalling none less than House on the Edge of the Park, as Simone Mattei is strangled by her lover, who climaxes at the point of her death.

The killer, whoever he is, drops a photograph at the scene, which is discovered by Simone’s estranged husband Sandro along with her body. Having an iron-clad alibi by virtue of being with his photographer friend Tiffany at the time, Sandro calls the police. They prove characteristically ineffectual anyway, encouraging Sandro to put his Private Investigator skills to work. Tiffany blows up the photo for him, revealing Benussi’s character, Laura Damiani, to leading them to her and all into danger...

Though featuring a committed performance from Frederick Stafford as Sandro, suitably slimy and attractive support from De Martino and Andreu and Benussi and Claude Jade respectively, and an effective score from Enrico Simonetti (father of Goblin’s Claudio), Germán Lorente’s direction tends towards the perfunctory – look, I can shoot a car chase or a fist-fight in an wrecking yard, but don’t have the imagination or ability to make it different from anyone else’s – and the unpleasant.

While some unpleasantness is often a good thing in this kind of film, what we have here, such as the random shooting of a citizen who tries to intervene; the rape-murder antagonist; the swiping of a cop against a wall during a car chase, and a pervasive atmosphere of cynicism, makes for guilty rather than guilty pleasure viewing and something more often than not in bad taste than good bad taste.

Omicidio per vocazione / Deadly Inheritance

When railway worker Oscar is killed in an accident his family – daughters Simone (Femi Benussi), Colette and Rosalie (Jeanette Len / Giovanna Lenzi) and simple-minded adoptive son Janot (Ernesto Colli) – are surprised to learn that the eccentric old man had a considerable fortune, which they are now heirs to.

There is, however, the inevitable catch, as all the money is to be held for the next three years, until Janot reaches 21. Shortly thereafter Janot is himself victim of a not dissimilar accident, parts of his body being scattered all the way down the track.

With suspicions of foul play now hanging over the case – and with good reason, as quickly transpires – Inspector Greville arrives to assist the local police get to the bottom of things...

More a traditional mystery-thriller than a giallo proper, this 1968 French provincial-set entry is an awkward little film that it is difficult to take seriously. This wouldn't necessarily be a problem if, like Michele Lupo's thematically not too dissimilar but technically far more accomplished Weekend Murders, the comedic tone was clearly intentional, but as it is first-time director and co-writer Vittorio Sidoni delivers more bungled than effective scenes and a somewhat obvious shock resolution that leaves as many questions as it answers.

The opening / credits sequence seem to sum up his aspirations and failure to meet them: while we later learn that Oscar did not hear notice the oncoming train until it was way too late on account of his hearing aid being out of commission to explain away / motivate the way in which the sound of the train would drops out every time the camera cut back to him, its sheer duration, at around three minutes, takes what could have / should have been suspenseful and turns it into something more akin to a surrealistic parody. (I was reminded of the charging knight in Monty Python's Quest for the Holy Grail who suddenly appears right in front of the observer, having been hitherto in the extreme distance, crossed with the woman repeatedly climbing the same stairs in René Clair's Entr'acte and from there back to Abel Gance's La Roue; who says liking Eurocult means lacking a wider film culture :-))

On the plus side Omicidio per vocazione / L' Assassino ha le mani pulite / Deadly Inheritance film does feature an enjoyably trashy score from Stefano Torossi – the title music sounds like the Peter Gunn theme with kitchen sink percussion playing over it – whilst Benussi and Colli are always welcome to reacquaint oneself with, even if the latter's distinctive looks mean that he's about as convincing as an 18-year-old as Peter Bark was as a child in Zombie: Nights of Terror, unless by a stroke of inspiration this was the entire point...

Strip Nude for Your Killer / Nude per l'assassino

A model from the Albatross Agency dies of a heart attack while undergoing a backstreet abortion. Although the doctor who perfored the operation and the unidentified figure who procured it conceal the circumstances of her death, it soon becomes apparent that someone knows as the doctor himself is murdered. The killer then turns his or her attentions to the owners, staff and models from the agency, be they guilty, innocent or some combination of the two...




Did someone say sleazy; the camera start off lower than this

While it is obvious that the figure, clad in sleek black motorcycle leathers and face-obscuring crash helmet, is not bulky co-owner Maurizio Montani, the list of suspects is otherwise open, albeit constantly narrowing as the killer continues on their quest for vengeance.


Just like Blow-Up in its self-reflexive critique of its medium. Or something...


“Now it's time for your in depth interview”

Could it be Gisella, Maurizio's possessive bisexual wife? Or sleazy photographer Carlo Bianchi, possessing a bad temper and the kind of guy who will opportunistically take test shots of any attractive woman he sees, never mind his camera actually being out of film. (“Do you know just how many of the great fashion models began by doing exactly what you're doing now?”) Or someone nobody would suspect?






Woman as mannequin / mannequin as woman


And the Jess Franco style implication of the film audience as voyeur, perhaps

(Strip) Nude for Your Killer / Nude per l'assassino is the kind of giallo that it is difficult to make a case for, operating as it does in lowest common denominator terms of sex and violence.


A black gloved hand pouring J&B; how iconic can you get?

It certainly succeeds in accomplishing what it sets out do, but does it have anything else going for it besides the obvious charms of cast members like Edwige Fenech and Femi Benussi and Berto Pisano's effective score?

Oddly enough, I think yes – albeit in a roundabout way. For while undoubtedly sleazy and exploitative, the film also seems to operate, in its half-conscious ironies, as something of an auto-critique.

The world of fashion and modelling is, of course, one that many gialli, from Mario Bava's Blood and Black Lace all the way through to his son Lamberto's Delirium: Photos of Gioia and beyond, have visited. On one level the reason, as here, is obvious: the opportunities the environment affords to showcase beautiful women in various states of dress and undress. Yet, beyond this, the setting can also be seen as frequently expressing ambiguities about glamour as a whole; ambiguities that reside at the core of world itself. We come back, that is, to the double meaning of glamour as something both attractive and illusory / magical.




An almost equal opportunities piece of exploitation; whether Franco Diogene's refusal to strip nude for his killer is a good or bad thing is debatable...

Thus, for example, when Carlo chats up Benussi's character with promises of Vogue covers, it is the sense that she knows he is full of it, but is happily going along because it suits her agenda as well. Likewise, it is the sense that a girl-girl nightclub act is precisely that, nothing to do with any expression of real feelings.




Yet another stereotypical 'fag' meets his demise


And is discovered in a scene that ultimately fails to make sense

In a similar vein while the antics of Maurizio, as he desperately takes a model back to his house and offers her whatever she wants to make love to him, before finding himself unable to perform and thus being forced to resort to an inflatable doll once more, at which point he is dispatched by the killer, are undoubtedly played primarily for grim laughs, they nevertheless also have an almost unbearable sadness to them. (One almost wonders what proportion of the film's audience were more like Maurizio than the lady-killer Carlo, or at least found the former easier to actually emphathise with.)


Nelle pieghe della carne

Beyond this, it is also worth remembering the event around which the whole scenario develops. The legalisation or liberalisation of abortion was, after all, an important topic in many Western countries around this time – including Italy – in the wake of the personal-is-political campaigns of second-wave feminism. And here even if the film's sexual politics are frequently highly dubious, not least in the way Fenech's Magda meekly accepts the treatment she receives from Carlo, the very way in which she is otherwise presented as a more no-nonsense type who takes an active role in the investigation of the mystery is worth thinking about in comparison with the traditional passive / hysterical victim roles she tended to play earlier in her giallo career.


La Ragazza con la pistola - Fenech with short hair and firearm

Not Deep Red in terms of its critical profundity then (what is?) but perhaps a film with slightly more to it than its trash title and reputation would indicate.

So Sweet, So Dead / Rivelazioni di un maniaco sessuale al capo della squadra mobile

A maniac is murdering the unfaithful wives of prominent citizens. He leaves incriminating photographs of the women and their lovers, but removes the men's faces to protect / conceal their identities.


Being naked playing dead - the maniac's first victim

Inspector Capuano (a dubbed Farley Granger) is assigned the case. While pathologist Professor Casali (Chris Avram) offers useful information as to the killer's modus operandi and motivation, Capuano finds his investigations otherwise stalled at every turn by his superiors' insistence that he focus on the usual suspects and take a softly-softly approach in dealing with the lovers and husbands of the victims.




Prof. Casali offers his expert opinion as to the killer's method and motive; note the mirror / distortion

As the killer's depredations continue a number of suspects come to the fore, including a morgue attendant with an unhealthy enthusiasm for his work (Luciano Rossi) and lawyer Paolo Santangeli (Silvano Tranquilli).


A parade of the usual suspects; Capuano knows he is looking in the wrong place with them


“No woman is going to marry a man who works at my job, you see. Sooner or later they find out about the corpses, and it's finished before I can get started. ”


“Poor Serena. She may have lacked discretion but she certainly didn't warrant her awful end.”


“Why should we react like you? He only kills unfaithful wives.”

Though losing its way somewhat as it enters its second act, as Capuano's investigation is temporarily sidelined in favour of that undertaken by Santangeli's teenage daughter Bettina, this 1972 giallo redeems itself somewhat with a memorable final act; unfortunately this also makes it difficult to review without spoiling it for the first-time viewer.

What can be said is that the film as a whole operates at the sleazier and trashier end of the giallo spectrum, with the majority of the female roles, including those of Susan Scott and Femi Benussi, pretty much of the thankless get-naked-then-die variety.

Whether the film is actually misogynistic as often claimed is however debatable. I would tend to argue that, like many of its type, it is really more misanthropic, declining to present anyone in a particularly flattering light.

True, this is unlikely to satisfy anyone who feels that the female is more moral than the male, or that by merely reporting on the existence of a sexual double standard but not overtly critiquing it the film-makers were contributing in their own small way to its continuance.

Here, we have to remember that the social / cultural norm in Italy circa 1972 would have been that a man in a prominent position should have both wife and a mistress, and that if he did not then there was quite possibly something wrong with or suspect about him. The reverse of this, meanwhile, was that the the man could not admit to being cuckolded by his wife being another man's mistress.

Though the most obvious example of this within the film is Susan Scott's husband, a failed suicide who succeeded only in crippling himself instead – a symbolic castration if ever there was one – it also seems worth considering whether the fact that the Capuano's marriage is without issue says something about the Inspector's masculine potency – or lack thereof – and / or if his apparent fidelity marks him out as someone too idealistic for his chosen career. Indeed, by extension, we might question whether he is thus being positioned as someone who has more in common with the moralistic avenger than he might care to acknowledge.












Tellingly both the maniac and the police use the same technologies of surveillance

Besides the killer's archetypal garb, a number of other motifs provide points of interest for students of the genre. At one point, for example, the wives / mistresses of some of the local notables discuss the case at their regular visit to the beauty salon, reminding one of the role played by the same location in The Black Belly of the Tarantula and indeed suggesting an alternate blackmail based version of the same “forbidden photos” type scenario. At another Capuano has one of the victims' funerals caught on camera in the hope that catching some detail that will break the case open. Unlike the ill-educated and naïve populace of the southern village in Don't Torture a Duckling, however, these northern urban sophisticates are too clever – or blasé – to reveal themselves in this way.

Roberto Bianchi Montero's direction is the kind of hit-and-miss thing that might be expected from a 60-something film-maker whose undistinguished career had seen him dabble in a succession of filone over the decades, his suspenseful and stylish handling of a murder on the train negated by the laughably inappropriate use of slow-motion in the murder on the beach.


The black-clad moral avenger


The film's titles foreground archetypal giallo imagery and technology – the black gloves, the knife, the telephone etc.

Giorgio Gaslini's score comprises two repeated cues, one playing over the main titles and emotional high points like the funeral aforementioned funeral sequence thereafter and the other accompanying the killer's appearances. While the latter cue uses something similar to the “make a jazz noise here” approach of many of Morricone's contributions to the genre, it arguably functions in a fundamentally different way otherwise, more a leitmotif and less a tension-raising device, precisely because the pervading sense of cynicism prevents us from really caring about the next beautiful woman about to die.

All told, So Sweet, So Dead is a dubiously entertaining giallo whose view of the world might be summed up as through urine-coloured lenses at a half-empty J&B glass.