Murder Rock

Italy | 1984 Directed by Lucio Fulci Starring Olga Karlatos Ray Lovelock Claudio Cassinelli Color | 90 Minutes | Not Rated Format: DVD (R1 - NTSC | 2-disc set) Shriek Show

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7     9   10 = Highest Rating   Guest Review by Troy Howarth

A homicidal maniac is targeting the pupils at a dance academy in New York...     Following the release of his most nihilistic, brutal and controversial giallo to date, The New York Ripper (1982), Lucio Fulci decided to take a step in a different direction. It's hard to say whether he felt that he had simply gone as far as he could go in that vein, or if he was put in his place by the critical backlash against the picture. His next few films would therefore be considerably tamer, a move that would alienate some of his hardcore champions. Murder Rock, the last of Fulci's gialli, may seem an unworthy follow-up to his past thrillers, but it is a slick, stylish and entertaining addition to his filmography. The film was apparently inspired by the success of films like Fame and Flashdance (an alternate title, Slashdance, makes this clear), but one could just as easily say that Fulci was having one over on Dario Argento — the setting isn't too dissimilar from the dance academy of Suspiria. Regardless of its commercial models, the film continues the harsh critique of the American dream (i.e., if you're not the best, you're nothing) begun in New York Ripper and would remain one of its director's last successfully realized projects.     The story sets the stage for plenty of sleaze and gory mayhem, but as noted above, Fulci is uncommonly restrained. The lack of visceral and carnal thrills don't hurt the film, however — after all, New York Ripper would be a hard act for anybody to follow, and the restraint he exercises here is key to giving the film its own separate identity. The tone remains as cynical and nihilistic as ever — hardly anybody is worth a damn. The good guys, represented by sardonic police inspector Borges (Cosimo Cinieri), are defined by cynical humor and an air of indifference; the villains are childish and petty, driven by selfish motives. It's hard to really care about anybody, but this is part of the film's modus operandi — it doesn't detract from the experience, but places it in the same zone as other 'greedy bastards get their comeuppance' gialli, such as those by Mario Bava. The pleasure stems from watching the various seedy characters double cross each other — in Fulci's downbeat universe, no good deed will go unpunished, but those who transgress aren't necessarily going to be punished by the end of the picture. As in his other gialli, Fulci is logical in his plotting; he doesn't share Argento's penchant for fanciful storylines, preferring to root himself in the more classical tradition of murder mysteries set forth by Agatha Christie. The end result makes sense, even if it sometimes succumbs to silly excess in order to fit into the commercial marketplace (the break dancing sequences are hopelessly dated, for example).     Stylistically, the film is extremely striking. The unifying theme appears to be modeled after the celebrated antique shop murder sequence in Bava's seminal Blood and Black Lace (1964) — much of the film unfolds in half-darkness as lights strobe on and off from neon signs and the like. The cool blue color scheme is never overdone, with Fulci and cinematographer Giuseppe Pinori taking care to vary the palette with carefully controlled primary colors and plenty of shadow. The noir-ish aesthetic suits the film very well, helping to shore up any deficiencies in the plotting, and some of the sequences are as well done as anything in the director's oeuvre — one dream sequence, for example, compares favorably to the hyper-stylized fantasy scenes in his earlier A Lizard in a Woman's Skin (1971), for example. The murder set-pieces don't rely on gore, but Fulci makes good use of subjective camera work to build tension — the novel method of murder (the killer uses an ornate hairpin to penetrate the victim's chest plate and stop the heart) may seem a little ridiculous, but this is part and parcel of the charm of a giallo, and Fulci knows this as well as anybody. The director keeps the story rattling along at a good pace, introducing quirky characters (such as a wheelchair-bound little girl obsessed with insects) whenever the narrative is in danger of running out of steam, and the final resolution is satisfying.     The cast is an effective combination of genre veterans and amateurs utilized for their dancing skills. Gorgeous Greek actress Olga Karlatos, already on the receiving end of one of the most painful scenes in cinema history in Fulci's Zombie (1979), does a solid job in the lead. She plays the strong-willed head of the dance academy with a nice mixture of determination and vulnerability, and Fulci can hardly be blamed for working in a couple of relatively tame nude shots showing off her physique. The role allows Karlatos more opportunity to show her abilities as an actress than usual, and though she overacts slightly in a few scenes, she is effective for the most part. Ray Lovelock, a popular, handsome lead in such Euro-Cult favorites as Let Sleeping Corpses Lie and Live Like a Cop, Die Like a Man, doesn't have much to do as the mysterious stranger who appears to hold the key to the mystery, but he does the best job one could hope for in the circumstances. Claudio Cassinelli, in one of his last films before his tragic death in a bizarre accident on the set of a Sergio Martino jungle adventure, is also limited by the opportunities present in the script — a solid performer adept at cynical anti-heroes, he is required to act shifty here, but little else. The show is effectively stolen by Cosimo Cinieri, often billed as Lawrence Wells in his other films for Fulci (including New York Ripper and Manhattan Baby, 1982). With his vaguely demonic features, Cinieri is just right as the indifferent detective on the case — he gets all the best lines ("He's not a psycho, he's an asshole!") and actually manages to make the character endearing in a way that the script surely didn't intend. The supporting cast includes some striking Italian beauties, many of them making their one and only film appearance here. The director himself makes one of his customary cameos, playing a distracted talent agent.     Clearly shot on a healthier budget than any of Fulci's subsequent films (cf., Touch of Death), it is nevertheless bizarre that the better part of the finances went to composer Keith Emerson. Emerson, member of the famous prog rock band Emerson, Lake and Palmer, had previously provided Dario Argento with a hypnotic score for Inferno (1980), so he perhaps seemed a natural choice for a film rooted in music and dance. Unfortunately, the composer seems a bit lost at sea here. The songs that pepper the soundtrack are catchy — insanely so — but boy, do they reek of cheese. The songs will likely be enough to turn off a lot of viewers from the get-go, a shame since the film itself has so much to recommend. With such stirring lyrics as "Paranoia's comin' your way!," Emerson's songs date the film in a ferocious manner. His actual background cues, however, tend to be effective — though not enough to justify his getting paid so much more than Fulci himself. That caveat to one side, the production is well mounted and Giuseppe Pinori's photography is simply beautiful... Just don't allow the opening breakdance montage to put you off.

Shriek Show has given this lesser known Fulci offering an unexpected red carpet, two-disc release. Disc 1 includes a beautiful transfer of the film. Properly formatted at 1.85 and enhanced for widescreen TVs, the film is completely uncut and is taken from an immaculate source print. Colors are vivid, detail is sharp and the image doesn't suffer from any of the defects that have dogged many of SS's other releases. The mono English soundtrack is in very good shape — never fear, those cheesy songs come through loud and clear. SS has also included the Italian track, sounding a bit muddier than the English, but rendered mostly useless by the absence of English subtitles. Also included is a full-length audio commentary with DP Giuseppe Pinori, moderated by journalist and Fulci enthusiast Federico Caddeo. The track is lively and informative, with Pinori painting a far gentler portrait of the late director (with whom he also worked on the unfortunate The New Gladiators, 1983) than one might be accustomed to. Pinori recalls the shooting and its participants with a lot of affection, and unashamedly fawns over the quality of his photography — I can't say that I blame him. He also spends a lot of time bemoaning the lack of respect paid to Fulci during his lifetime and recalls the touching tribute Dario Argento paid to him at the conclusion of his funeral service. The track is in Italian, with removable yellow subtitles in English — the subtitles suffer from a few typos, but in general they get the job done in an efficient manner. A German-language theatrical trailer, as well as trailers for other SS titles, round out the first disc.     Disc 2 includes a Fulci trailer reel (essentially, trailers for all the Fulci films released to DVD by SS), a photo gallery, on-camera interviews with Pinori and Ray Lovelock, and, best of all, a newly produced documentary on the director, Tempus Fugit. Directed by Daniel Gouyette, it brings together reminiscences by some of Fulci's friends, collaborators and admirers, including Dario Argento ('appearing' via speaker phone), Luigi Cozzi and Dardano Sacchetti. Sacchetti's view on his longtime collaborator appears to have softened with age, and he now refers to him as the only director who could really bring his writing to life, while Argento and others pay homage to the late filmmaker as a man who never received proper recognition during his lifetime. It's a touching tribute, nicely assembled and lovingly produced. The end result is possibly the most satisfying Euro-Cult release Shriek Show has assembled to date. 8/08/06

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