To my way of thinking – and bearing in mind that I haven’t seen all of them – this is one of the best giallo films out there. It’s up there with Dario Argento’s The Bird with the Crystal Plumage, Deep Red and Tenebrae. I’d say that I Iiked it as much as Duccio Tessari’s The Bloodstained Butterfly, too. Considering that this film exists merely because of the success of Argento’s debut movie, it manages to stand very much on its own merits.
The Strange Vice of Mrs Wardh has the key constituents that help make a top-flight giallo: a twisty plot, excellent locations, great performers, a fine score (by Nora Orlandi, who also comes up with a memorable main theme). It also has, in Sergio Martino, a very fine director. There seems to be a general feeling that he’s not on the same level as Argento or Mario Bava, that he lacks the necessary finesse to compete with those guys. That might be the case but Strange Vice represents a very good argument to the contrary.
First of all, Martino uses the anamorphic lens (an instant plus point in my book) extremely skilfully, he composes his shots very well and he produces some very striking visuals, such as when the straight-razor-wielding killer dispatches a female victim in the shower and the camera flips upside down as he hot-foots it from the scene of the crime. The lighting is good throughout, too; undoubtedly, cinematographer Emilio Foriscot plays a crucial part in the way the film looks.
There’s one scene set in a Viennese park that is about to close; Conchita (credited here as Cristina) Airoldi’s character, Carol, awaits a rendezvous with a person unknown. The unnerving atmosphere generated through just sound and lingering camerawork that depicts rustling leaves and grass, is on a par with anything that Michael Reeves managed in 1968’s Witchfinder General or what Richard Donner would go onto to achieve in 1976’s The Omen (namely, the sequence that tracks Father Brennan (Patrick Troughton)’s short journey by foot to his church, following a meeting with Ambassador Thorn (Gregory Peck) by the Thames. SPOILER for The Omen: things will turn out just as bad for the priest as they do for Carol).
Airoldi, by the way, is extremely engaging in her role as the friend of Edwige Fenech’s titular character. As for Fenech, it’s hard to believe that, at this point in her career, she hadn’t carried a film before because she is an absolute natural. The camera loves her, not just for her physical charm but the inner life that can be discerned behind her eyes.
Throw in George Hilton, Ivan Rassimov and Alberto de Mendoza, and Martino (Sergio and/or producer brother Luciano) have a giallo cast to die for. Rassimov, by the way – what a face; it looks like it might have been chiselled from onyx and that’s before mentioning his phenomenal mane of hair and sideburns that look like they might just be capable of sentient life in their own right. Also, I have to mention Hilton’s appearance in the key scene that he shares with Rassimov: hair coiffeured to perfection, aviator sunglasses to die for, a stunning brown patterned shirt… George, you win all the fashion awards – plus an extra special commendation for displaying some top-class poise.
The spoiler part of the review
As for the storyline: I didn’t guess who was behind the killings; I’m not sure that anyone could figure that out. It was kind of neat, I thought, in terms of its irrelevance to the main plot. As for who it is that is tormenting Mrs Wardh, well, each of my guesses was nearly right but I didn’t come close to having it all worked out. Spanish writer Eduardo Manzanos is credited with the original story and with being the film’s chief screenwriter but this giallo has Ernesto Gastaldi’s gleeful fingerprints all over it. I’d have to watch the film again to see if all the narrative elements stack up (I do feel that there was definitely some of house-of-cards plotting going on, which is perhaps more excusable when you learn that there are three antagonists that are in cahoots).
This might just be on me but I couldn’t help think that the film’s ostensible killer (played by Bruno Corazzari) bore a close resemblance to Dario Argento. I wonder if that was deliberate and the brothers Martino were having a little joke and/or paying homage to the man who kick-started the new wave of gialli.
It’s often the case that the name of this kind of film has nothing to do with the plot and is, instead, just an excuse to produce a suitably baroque title. Even if the name does have some sort of relevance to the film itself, it’s usually quite cursory. However, Mrs Wardh does have a strange vice: a fear of and, paradoxically, an excitement caused by the presence of blood. I suppose this only meaningfully plays into the storyline in terms of Rassimov’s sadistic Jean but it’s definitely there if one wants to give it some consideration.
Elektrical Turbulence 