Blood and Black Lace (1964)

dir Mario Bava

I love giallo, I love fashion models, I love technicolor, I love muzak… it still took me about 30 minutes to settle into this one. The models are quite blasé. Or maybe it’s the dubbing. Some of these lines are straight up robotic. Give it 30 minutes to really get going, then you might enter a childlike state of wonder and be able to enjoy the watch. Pretty colors! Funky jazzy music floating in the background! Gorgeous women! Oh no! Someone is murdering the gorgeous women! Whatever will we do! Etc, etc.

If I were Dario Argento, I’d be a little embarrassed at the obvious visual similarities between Blood and Black Lace and Suspiria. Over a decade between the two, plenty of time for Dario to track down a bunch of red curtains and colored lights. Then we have the models, the dancers, hmmmm. Both good, sure, but I had to point it out. It doesn’t feel reminiscent, it feels RIPPED. Okay I said it! Maybe it’s just my opinion, but 13 years is not long enough for a meaningful homage. There were 30 years between Rear Window and Body Double! Even 18 years between Vertigo and Obsession. Maybe 15 years is the cut off in my book.

The biggest thing that stuck with me from Blood and Black Lace was the wide variety of kill techniques. I wouldn’t mind being one of the women who gets drowned or smothered by a pillow, but come on. Who would want to die by getting their face melted off? That objectively sucks. Probably one of the worst ways to go. At least it’s explained by there being two murderers instead of being a random discrepancy. I know giallos aren’t anywhere near feminist media, but it never really feels misogynistic to me when it turns out to be a deranged woman behind it all. I won’t go as far as to call it empowering but aren’t I allowed to find it entertaining? The Bird with the Crystal Plumage and Sisters are some of my other favorites in this category. Crazy ladies, I love you. Keep crazing.