Tuesday 1 October 2013

Representing Italy: Four Flies On Grey Velvet (1971)


To watch a giallo, which Dario Argento impacted with his debut with the power of an electric bolt, is to expect the unrealistic. Its fantasy. A tricky knotting string of narrative. It only works as it does in form by being as absurd as it is as well as logical to some extent. The giallo, as I come accustomed to it, is a subgenre that could only make sense in cinema, willing to jump to unexpected places as abruptly as possible as well as have real logic to them. Befitting Argento the former film critic, giallo even when its middling is all about the lack of a clear vision, lost in the web of narrative for the protagonist and the viewer. Red herrings are there, one of them or someone else entirely behind the murders. A "gimmick", a McGuffin, or a nagging aspect for the person trying to solve the crime is always there, and the resolve is far from the original placement of one's expectations. In most other subgenres, it's possible that going to A to B hasn't even gotten past A by the end credits. Giallo on the other hand, unless it's so bad you don't care, feels like a journey.

This was the missing piece in the puzzle of Argento. There are other films that were obscure, but Four Flies On Grey Velvet was the noticeable absence. Notable because it's in the beginning of his golden period of giallo and supernatural horror films. Notable because it was the final film in the unofficial Animal Trilogy, including his famous debut The Bird With The Crystal Plummage (1970) and The Cat O'Nine Tails (1971). Now available officially, the only truly obscure film in his filmography is The Five Days (1973), his sole excursion outside of horror and mystery thrillers, a historical comedy of all things. Four Flies On Grey Velvet certainly crams a drastic amount of shifts and pulls of subjective reality as it goes along. The drummer for a band Roberto Tobias (Michael Brandon) finds himself accidentally killing a stranger in a theatre, a mysterious figure above them capturing the incident on camera and using it as blackmail. However the figure doesn't want money. As he resists, Roberto tries to figure out what is going on, realising that blackmail isn't enough to explain what is going on, and so much more is taking place behind his back, not at least bodies that are slowly piling up. It plays with its form, but it's not the bombastic camera tracks and stylistic lighting of the later Argento films. Its sly, playful; after the great, but simple and economic first film The Bird With The Crystal Plumage, he suddenly raids every technical idea he could come up with to test himself. The heavy prog rock by Ennio Morricone, in contrast to his previous scores for the first two Animal Trilogy films, is very much a mirror for the film as a whole. This is a Mr. Bungle song sat at the end of two considered jams in this unofficial trilogy. The plot is even more ludicrous than the other two, its title from a gimmick later in the narrative that borrows from the history of mystery fiction, but feels even more ridiculous for being so suddenly introduced near the end of the film. The playfulness of the film is signaled immediately in the opening credit prog jam when there's a first person shot from inside a guitar that's there for the sake of it. Even next to the fantastic and bravado shots or images from the likes of Suspiria (1977), Inferno (1980) and Opera (1987), this film is the closest to a quirky film in his filmography, with how it presents itself, while still being a full blown giallo.

The whole film feels so different from a lot of his early and later films. Another character instead of Roberto does the investigation of the leads. There's romance between Roberto, already married, and his wife's sister that isn't actually frowned on or highlighted as a grand plot push. The characters around Roberto are broad and intentionally exaggerated, from a downtrodden postman who keeps delivering porn to the wrong house, to a friend (Bud Spencer) who is nicknamed "God", introduced with a chorus singing "Halleluiah!" that drastically differs from anything in Argento's work barring the bawdy orchestration that follows Daria Nicolodi out a door as she teases David Hemmings in Deep Red (1975). Argento's films can be very fun, and there's comedy in others, but most of them are played deathly serious. The entirety of Four Flies On Grey Velvet feels more knowing of itself, more openly silly. Clearly in trying to reach a new level of experimentation he could implement for his films afterwards, Argento made a film here that took some risks that he wouldn't attempt again. It's not part of his supernatural films, which even Deep Red is partially of, but how does that explain where the reoccurring images of a beheading leads to in its meaning? It sets up tropes that would be ran with in later works, but there are things that are never continued in the ones I've seen. Our protagonist never looks into the case for himself, completely lost barring clues others find for him. Its everything around him that shifts without much of his influence, and results of it completely take him down.
As Argento films go, it's good because of this and because it's still very much a rock solid giallo. Its full of clever, eye popping uses of the camera and the Morricone score is great. The last moment of the film may be one of the director's best for just knocking the viewer out. And the story is good as what a giallo usually is - it's not the mystery that's of interest, it's how it done and how things such as coincidences are welcomed rather than rejected for only logical explanations. Its full of pulp uses of psychological babble as other giallos, the same obsessions with clues and sociopaths, and in this film the added playfulness takes them to a different tone and makes the film stand out separately from the others. To Argento's credit, all of his films, from what I've seen, have been different from each other, never wanting to repeat himself in tone and presentation even if continuing with similar ideas. Finally accessing Four Flies On Grey Velvet not  only completes a key part of his career for me but also adds a new layer to how distinct he can be.

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