Bringing something subtle to the table

How can you get away with using a chainsaw in a Giallo so it does not feel gross?
First, if you are Duccio Tessari, who knows how to make beautiful images, it helps. Then, you can set your film in Portofino, a rather eye-pleasing scenery.
This is the case for "L'uomo senza memoria" (Puzzle, 1974), which I previously talked about.

But the secret weapon is having your score composed by Gianni Ferrio, one of the most elegant film music composers of the golden years of Italian genre cinema.

From the very first seconds of the film, you cannot help being transported by the opening piece, "Labyrinthus", sung by Rosella. Ferrio's trademark, exquisite and crafted melodies, is once again performing magic to get you in the movie as we see shots of London streets, where the story starts.

Let me insist on this: in this film, it is the music which leads the film and sets the theme and the mood. "Labyrinthus" could have been the movie title, as it perfectly encapsulates what this giallo is about. The intricacies of memory and how a man struck with amnesia is faced with snapshots of his dark past life.
How this past is actually reconstructed step by step through both the reactions of people around him and the images and feelings these reactions trigger in his failing memory.

A man lost in the labyrinth of his mind, hesitating, in doubt, anxious, and one guide only throughout the film: the music, which literally works as the backbone of the story and holds the pieces of the puzzle together.

Until the end where, all of a sudden, we are ourselves in doubt: is that man without a memory a victim, or could he be a great manipulator?
Just the shadow of a doubt.


Not only is "L'uomo senza memoria" a very good giallo, but its score by Gianni Ferrio is one of the best in class and Digitmovies have just released it. Listen to it and buy it here.
More on the film from this blog there.

The odd detail

Not that far from the urban landscapes of Northern Italy, lies a lovely city by the seaside.
Portofino. Its harbour, its small colourful houses, its relaxed atmosphere. Strange place for a giallo.

Is L'uomo senza memoria (Man without a memory aka Puzzle, Duccio Tessari - 1974) really a giallo? Not sure, but it's probably Tessari's trademark: his other contribution to the genre, Una farfalla con le ali insanguinate (The bloodstained butterfly, 1971) wasn't exactly a typical giallo either. There is something that cannot be denied: both films have their own particular style, and a remarkable elegance - something "precious" which makes them stand out of the crowd.

So, here we are in London with the story of a man who has lost his memory, and is attracted to Portofino by a letter supposedly written by his wife, whom he doesn't remember.
And the location is so beautiful, with the boats and the twisted paved streets,
and the characters all dress up in fashionable clothes, and there are nice cars too,
there's a witty kid, who helps solving the mystery,
there is also Anita Strindberg, and a bad guy who blows his nose all the time,
there's even a subtle tribute to Mario Bava's "La ragazza che sapeva troppo" when Sara (Senta Berger) is alone in the shadows of her house at night, as she's heard a strange noise...
Not to forget the soundtrack which is so classy, as ever with the great Gianni Ferrio.

All these elements contribute to make this film a definitely pleasant experience, something classy not quite fitting in the giallo frame, still very close to it.
Like an elegant painting made of a number of carefully selected details perfectly matching together, except for one. One detail which presence in the painting would seem very odd. Not something big, but sufficiently disturbing to make you rethink of the whole picture with a different look.
In L'uomo senza memoria, this odd detail appears shortly at the very beginning of the film only to find its utility at the very end of it: it is a chainsaw. Yes, a chainsaw which turns the final scene into a bloodbath, after 90 almost violence-free minutes.

Such an odd detail, which is typically constitutive of Puzzle's strange charm.


The film was recently released by two production companies: the French Neo Publishing and the Danish Another World Entertainment. The soundtrack, unfortunately, seems nowhere to be found, which is a shame considering Gianni Ferrio's consistently excellent scores.
More from this blog on Duccio Tessari's other giallo here and there.

In the public eye

It's autumn in Italy, a blanket of fallen leaves has started covering the park. Two kids are playing hide-and-seek as it starts to rain. Their nurse tries to get them to stop to go home, but they won't listen to her.

"Uno, due, tre...", counts one of them.

By the time he reaches 10, we suddenly hear a girl screaming from behind the trees, then the sound of a body rolling down a small hill in the wet leaves.
We now see someone, a man, running away from the park, under the eyes of various witnesses. He's wearing a raincoat and a hat, so we can hardly see his face as he's rushing out. There, he climbs a wall to get away from the park. He's gone.
People are pointing at where they saw the murderer escape, but the police arrives just a few seconds too late to catch him.

They've just found the body of the girl. She's lying down amongst the leaves, beautiful and young. And dead.
The night has come.
The scientific police is investigating, taking samples of everything to gather evidence. These guys are professionals, they have an eye for hidden details. A TV crew is here also. They're not missing a single bit of the investigation, with their reporter commenting live in the middle of the police cars, a few meters away from the body.

Meanwhile, a teenage girl is watching the scene as broadcasted on TV and, in shock, recognises the girl who was killed: she was her best friend. She doesn't know yet that after a few days of the investigation, based on scientific proofs and the testimony of eye witnesses, her own father, a very famous TV sports presenter, will be arrested and convicted for the murder. Ruining both his life and reputation.

A crime scene scrutinized by police's scientists, an investigation extensively led in laboratories, TV cameras transmitting live the affair to the public, the trial of a media icon which we follow step by step.
Oh, the modernity of Una farfalla con le ali insanguinate (The bloodstained butterfly - Duccio Tessari, 1971)!
These particularities make this film stand out of the classic giallo definition, but are incredibly predictive of the typical scenaristic approach of the 90's and 2000s' thrillers.

And so predictive of the media society that we know now, where everything, litterally everything ends up in the public eye.


More on "The bloodstained butterfly" from this blog here.

The first impression matters

On the music of Gianni Ferrio's extremely elegant soundtrack,
framed by the silhouette of a butterfly,
a blue Fiat 124 Spider zooms on a small Italian country road.
It's driven by a very stylish brunette who eventually stops the car in front of her house.

Then the camera smoothly pans to introduce the other characters of the drama, caught in various places at the same moment. They are identified by carefully designed supers indicating their names and their respective links - exactly like a filmed version of a character list in a play.

This is the very sophisticated opening sequence of Una farfalla con le ali insanguinate (The bloodstained butterfly - Duccio Tessari, 1971), a giallo which could well be of a different flavour.


More about this film soon. In the meantime, find the movie here and do not miss Ferrio's great blend of classic and jazz melodies there.