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CITTA VIOLENTA

Thursday, November 20, 2003




The Salon Christiana has mock-Baroque rooms with red dress-maker mannequins dotted like vast blood-tipped pins. There are the bright lips: scarlet slashed across white skin. Manicured hands pull up nylon tights, deliciously, or unlatch or link suspenders: high Italian couture, circa '64. Christina Cuomo (Eva Bartok) retains tight catwalk discipline with blades from flashy brown eyes, a word from wasp-stung lips. She's the dream dominatrix: tragic, unfuckable. Just one Italian ideal among many others: the fey blonde with the dark secret; the peasant brunette with the (un)canny instinct. Nicole runs cocaine, Peggy had an abortion. Isabella was murdered first: she had a crimson diary, with everything in it. Everyone is dying for the diary. Literally: skin slashed, a face slowly scolded on a hot iron oven, wrists slit, a body dumped in a bath, or dragged along the ground, suffocated with a pillow, strangled with wire. Usually slowly, with silence between screams, lurid red light and pitch black shadows. Everyone is guilty, or dead. Motives multiply. The thriller has no sense, or logic, or narrative. An unhinged fear ride, a live nightmare of scarlet, crimson, sable, jet, silk. Giallo prototype: frigid, filthy colour and unbridled Id.

Sei Donne per l'Assassino (Mario Bava, 1964)


posted by oc  # 1:29 AM

citta vecchio

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