Sergio Martino’s gialli, as demonstrated by the titles included in Arrow Video’s The Sergio Martino Collection, are defined as much by their narrative hairpin turns as they are by their stylish camerawork, vibrant splashes of color, and moments of shocking violence. These three films thrive on red herrings, shifting our sympathies and suspicions from one character to another with relative ease. Much of that can be attributed to screenwriter Ernesto Gastaldi, who had a hand in writing each of the three films, but it’s Martino’s skillful balancing of tone that prevents these films from ever falling completely off the rails.
Similar to Dario Argento’s The Bird with the Crystal Plumage, which kickstarted the giallo’s most prolific period a year earlier, The Case of the Scorpion’s Tail plays out more like a procedural thriller than an ultraviolent giallo. While the filmmakers keep the bloodshed light, all the scheming, backstabbing, and sabotaging over a life insurance payout is a clear reflection of a certain social violence that was gripping Italy during this time. Indeed, the story was based on a well-known Italian case of insurance scam, but the layers of deceit revealed throughout the film are given an operatic sense of grandeur, with an airplane explosion, a murder by harpoon, and the dispatching of a main protagonist at the 30-minute mark all serving as ominous counterpoints to the natural beauty of the Greek coastline where most of the action is set.
Location plays an even more critical role in the eerily baroque Your Vice Is a Locked Room and Only I Have the Key, which was loosely adapted from Edgar Allen Poe’s “The Black Cat.” Opening with a group of hippies drinking and dancing in the luxurious estate of an over-the-hill, alcoholic writer, Oliviero (Luigi Pistilli), whose aristocratic mother has just passed away, the film’s decadent vision of decay recalls the later films of Luchino Visconti. Here, an unseemly act of depravity at the dead woman’s wake gives way to an outburst of sexual violence toward Oliviero’s wife, Irina (Anita Strindberg), at which point Your Vice Is a Locked Room only grows exponentially more warped in its depictions of eroticism and brutality.
Where Scorpion’s Tail takes an abrupt turn after a murderous incident at the end of the first act, Your Vice Is a Locked Room takes a comparable turn at the same point in its narrative with the sudden arrival of Oliviero and Irina’s gorgeous and naïve niece, Floriana (Edwige Fenech). Her presence brings an air of psychosexual tension to the proceedings—the threat of incest is realized on two occasions—as well as recalibrates the dynamic between the abusive Oliviero and his seemingly passive wife. Throughout, Martino weaves an impossibly complicated web of deceptions that unearths the deep-seated contempt and resentment festering beneath the surface of a wealthy family that ultimately gives into all its wildest inhibitions.
This overwhelming distrust of and distaste for the rich and powerful is equally potent in The Suspicious Death of a Minor, which was inspired by Italy’s epidemic of kidnappings during the ’70s. The film, then, is as much a giallo as it is a poliziotteschi, and there’s a moral weight to its focus on societal corruption. Although this later film is a decidedly lighter affair, with flashes of over-the-top humor popping up throughout, it’s relentlessly pointed in its mockery of both the police, who are seen as completely corrupt and more interested in betting on soccer games than solving crimes, and the upper-class men who ruthlessly exploit defenseless teenage girls.
The Suspicious Death of a Minor also serves as a wonderful showcase of Martino’s nimble balancing of disparate tones. Scenes depicting the inner workings of an underworld network of groomers, schemers, and murderers are bone-chillingly suspenseful, while slapstick action is used to highlight the incompetence of the police force. But it’s perhaps a sequence involving a shootout between two men on a rollercoaster that’s most emblematic of the deliriously unique braiding of the thrilling and the absurd that Martino brings to his films.
Image/Sound
Arrow Video’s scans of the 2K restorations included here are sharp, clean, and rich in detail, even in the darkest of nighttime scenes. Skin tones and colors are quite naturalistic, while the reds of gushing blood really pop. The even distribution of grain lends the transfers a pleasing film-like texture that prevents the frequent extreme close-up from ever looking too digitized. On the audio front, the linear mono tracks are pretty strong across the board, boasting clear dialogue in both English and Italian and robust mixes that allow the atmospheric scores to soar while capturing the full range of blood-curdling screams.
Extras
The extras included in this set have been ported over from each film’s individual Blu-ray release, and they collectively represent a comprehensive overview of Sergio Martino’s work in the giallo genre. On the disc for The Case of the Scorpion’s Tail, screenwriter Ernesto Gastaldi is joined by filmmaker Federico Caddeo on a commentary track to discuss his writing process and working with Martino on numerous occasions. In a pair of interviews, Martino discusses his influences and the importance of the screenplay in his filmmaking, while star George Hilton talks about the challenges of playing a bipolar character. One final interview with Mikel J. Koven, author of La Dolce Morte: Vernacular Cinema and the Italian Giallo Film, focuses on the “jetset aesthetic” of Martino’s films, while a video essay by Troy Howarth sheds even more light on the importance of Ernesto Gastaldi’s contributions to Martino’s career.
Martino pops up again in a slightly older interview for Your Vice Is a Locked Room and Only I Have the Key, talking about Edgar Allen Poe’s influence and how he set about capturing the macabre tone that defines “The Black Cat” and the author’s work in general. Actress Edwige Fenech makes her lone appearance in the set in a lengthy featurette where she, Martino, and Gastaldi respond to the film’s rediscovery decades later and her relishing the chance to play against type. A video essay by Michael Mackenzie, Dolls of Flesh and Blood, looks into Martino’s early career working on westerns and erotic thrillers, as well as his tendency to portray the darker side of decadence. Finally, Eli Roth appears in a brief interview to show his appreciation for Martino’s unwillingness to shy away from the misogyny of his characters.
Another commentary track, this time with Troy Howarth, is found on the disc for The Suspicious Death of a Minor and goes into great detail about the film’s blending of the giallo with the poliziotteschi. Howarth also provides an in-depth historical overview of the giallo, covering many of the second-tier directors who are often never mentioned in the same sentence as Dario Argento, Mario Bava, and Lucio Fulci. Rounding out the package is, you guessed it, another interview with Martino, here discussing his return to action filmmaking and his desire to pit an individual against a shadowy criminal organization.
Overall
Arrow Video’s wonderfully curated The Sergio Martino Collection is the perfect prescription for anyone looking to expand their giallo horizons.
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