Complete credited cast: | |||
Stefano Patrizi | ... | Michael | |
Martine Brochard | ... | Shirley | |
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Henri Garcin | ... | Hans |
Laura Gemser | ... | Beryl | |
John Richardson | ... | Oliver | |
Anita Strindberg | ... | Glenda | |
Silvia Dionisio | ... | Debora |
Michael is a successful actor, but he has a scandal in his past: at a tender age he knifed his father to death. He and his girlfriend Deborah go to his mother's for the weekend, and are joined by the director and others from a recent film project. But they are given a rather cool reception by the superstitious housekeeper Oliver. Soon rude things begin happening to some of the guests, and Michael fears a repeat of his nightmare past is in progress. Written by Ed Sutton <esutton@mindspring.com>
Members of the cast and crew of a horror movie take a well-earned break at the family home of actor Michael, whose mother (who has obviously been keeping to a tight exfoliation/moisturising regime, since she looks no older than 40) lives a reclusive life with her creepy manservant Oliver. Whilst relaxing at the house, the group are attacked one-by-one by a leather-gloved killer, and Michael begins to fear that a horrific event from his past—one which he has kept suppressed in his mind for years—has finally returned to haunt him.
Murder Obsession opens in fine style with a gleefully trashy scene in which exploitation babe Laura Gemser has her clothes torn from her body by a mysterious assailant who then proceeds to try and strangle her. However, fans of sleazy giallo movies shouldn't get too excited, for director Ricardo Freda soon disappoints by having the camera pull back to reveal that the woman, Beryl, and her attacker, Michael Stanford (Stefano Patrizi), are actors performing their final scene in a horror flick.
Yes, it's the tired old 'movie within a movie' trick! The rest of this wearisome film is just as clichéd and deceptive in style, with numerous silly red herrings during the dull-as-ditch-water first half (nearly every character seems to own a pair of leather gloves!), mucho nudity throughout, cheesy gore towards the end, and a convoluted, logic-free script that is harder to swallow than a broken glass sandwich. Even a genre great like Argento, whose own work is rarely that cohesive, would struggle to make this inept garbage work, so what chance does Freda have?
Supposedly atmospheric dream sequences are rendered laughable by giant rubber spiders; bats flap on clearly visible wires; Michael's girlfriend (Silvia Dionisio) runs through a foggy forest with her tits out; inept gore effects (an axe in the head and a chainsaw in the throat) look as though they were created by a five year old with modelling clay and papier-maché; dreadful dialogue turns emotional scenes into unintentional moments of comedy; and a desperate attempt at shoehorning black magic and psychic powers into the muddled plot severely backfires.
Take a look if a) you dig bad Italian cinema b) you're a rabid Gemser fan, or c) if you absolutely must see every giallo in existence—but be warned.... it ain't great.