"Tenebre" (1982)

Starring: Anthony Fransciosa, John Steiner, JOHN SAXON!, and a host of those wacky Italians.

First, the lowdown: It’s Seven, Italian Style.

Yet another fine entry from the Dario Argento line of cinema. Tony Fransciosa plays Peter Neal: a prolific horror writer of Stephen King-like proportions, who is touring Rome to promote his new book: Tenebrae (gasp!). On the plane over, we see him receive a mysterious phone call from a stalker ex-wife/girlfriend/something, who ends up stealing his gym bag when he’s not looking and goes Glen Close on the contents. (In one of many red herrings in the movie, we are treated to several suspicious close-ups of the gym bag, which makes you think the ex-whatever put a bomb in it) In Rome, a be-trenchcoated psycho with O.J. Simpson gloves has been slicing through the pink underbelly that is home to Italy’s prostitutes and deadbeat women. Our opening victim is a girl caught shoplifting the paperback edition of Mr. Neal’s book, but ends up getting away with it because she propositions the store detective (lord only knows what this poor creature would’ve done for a good piece of Faulkner.) While on her way home, she’s accosted by a drunken beggar, who chases her. However, Trenchcoat Psycho is waiting at her flat, and ends up staining her shag carpet apartment with her own blood. Meanwhile Peter Neal arrives amid fanfare and meets up with his incredibly annoying agent: John Saxon (sporting a poorly chosen fedora). Things must’ve been pretty bad for Mr. Saxon, because he’s demoted to the role of the movie’s Comic Relief, and he’s not even that present in the movie. He only seems to appear to remind people that he’s there. While settling in his hotel room, Peter is interrogated by two Italian detectives (who speak in dubbed broken English) about the series of murders committed by Trenchcoat Psycho. Mr. Psycho has been leaving witty passages from Peter’s book at the scene of each crime, giving the police a sneaking feeling that their client may have been inspired by it. Forsaking all conventional police procedure, our wayward detectives enlist in Peter’s help to track down the killer. Peter doesn’t appear to take the plea for help too seriously, or anything else on his book tour for that matter (with the exception of two interviews the man makes as many PR appearances in this movie as Salman Rushdie would in Tehran.) Our killer still goes about his merry way, picking away at quite a few Italian lovelies in the name of literature and then leaving taunting letters at Peter’s hotel room. One victim in particular is the daughter of Peter’s ex-wife/girlfriend/whatever; not that it’s an important plot point, but they feel it’s worth mentioning. Later on, both Peter and his assistant are haunted by visions of his ex-whatever in rental cars, as well as John Saxon’s ridiculous fedora (which he refuses to remove even while indoors.) Halfway through the movie, Peter gets an epiphany and takes his young Carey Elwes-esque gofer to lurk about the home of the Trenchcoat Psycho, resulting in traumatic memories for the barely pubescent gofer (who witnesses a Gen-U-Wine axe murder) and a dent in the head for Peter (which causes an embarrassing divot in the back of his coiffure for the rest of the movie). In essence, it’s another entry into the Italian giallo genre, which I’d enjoy more if it weren’t for the weird-as-shit pacing. That being said there are two scene where Argento shows technical ingenuity behind the camera. The first is an outside shot of our next victim framed through the window, it looks like a typical POV shot until you realize the camera is moving UPWARDS. The second has one of the police inspectors bending over to pick something up at a crime scene, only to reveal our killer standing directly behind him. At least this one didn’t break the wacky meter like Phenomena.

Line of the movie: “Where is that damn drunk?” John Saxon is feeling surly.

Three stars. Drink me.