Dario Argento’s excellent horror-mystery retains his trademark strengths while presenting a story that is noticeably more coherent than his usual work. While Argento’s wild, expressionistic camerawork (full of lengthy tracking shots and bizarre POVs that convey a sinister voyeurism reminiscent of Hitchcock) is bound to steal any show, this tale of a bestselling novelist dealing with copycat murders is a storytelling improvement in that it feels like it was actually written down before shooting. The performances are comparatively more polished as well (due in great part to the fact that the presence of English-speaking actors makes for less outrageous dubbing in the English language version), including Anthony Franciosa in a lead role in which he seems to play an Argento surrogate, defending his artistic creations against critics who label them sadistic, sexist, and deviant.
Like Argento’s other giallo classics, this fantastically bloody affair also boasts a moody, gothic synth score and an unsettling atmosphere of sexual predation in which the director makes the viewer feel uneasily complicit. With a body count even Schwarzenegger would consider excessive.
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