TUTTI I COLORI DEL BUIO

aka Todos los colores de la oscuridad (Es), L'alliance invisible (Fr), Day of the Maniac (Int), They're Coming to Get You (US), All the Colours of the Dark (Int)
1971
Italy/Spain
Mino Loy & Luciano Martino for Lea Film, National Cin.che (Rome), Compagnia Cin.ca Astro (Madrid)
Director: Sergio Martino
Story: Santiago Moncada
Screenplay: Ernesto Gastaldi, Sauro Scavolini
Music: Bruno Nicolai (Gemelli)
Cinematography: Giancarlo Ferrando, Miguel F. Mila {Technochrome - Eastmancolor}
Editor: Eugenio Alabiso
Set design: Jaime Perez Cubero, José Luis Galicia
Cameraman:
Filmed: Incir - De Paolis Studios, with exteriors in London
Release information: Registered 24.02.72. Italy (28.02.72, 94 mins), Spain (27.08.73), France (03.01.74, Paris , 90 mins)
Spanish takings: €50.132,46
Cast: George Hilton (Richard), Edwige Fenech (Jane), Ivan Rassimov (Mark Cogan), Julian Ugarte (J. P. McBride, the head of the coven), Georges Rigaud (Dr. Burton), Maria Cumani Quasimodo (the new tenant), Susan Scott [Nieves Navarro] (Barbara), Marina Malfatti (Mary), Dominique Boschero (Jane's mother in flashbacks), Alan Collins [Luciano Pigozzi] (Franciscus Clay, a lawyer), Ranato Chiantoni (Mr. Main), Tom Felleghi (Imspector Smith), Lisa Leonardi, Vera Drudi, Carla Mancini, Gianni Pulone

THE DVD

This title is available from Amazon.com on DVD

STORY

It starts off strikingly, with a long shot of a lake in the evening (accompanied by the sound of frogs and other wildlife). As the sky becomes dark, this segues into a hallucinogenic dream sequence featuring a heavily pregnant lady, a sinister man with azure eyes and a chap dressed up in drag (looking rather like Turner prize winner Grayson Perry). And then Jane (Edwige Fenech) wakes up.

Jane, obviously, is not an altogether happy lady, a psychological state that has apparently been bought on by her miscarriage following a car crash. As well as taking showers whilst still wearing her nightie, she's both tanked up on 'vitamin' tablets - to 'calm your nerves', as her husband Richard (George Hilton) proclaims suspiciously - and has flashbacks of someone being stabbed whenever they try to have sex. In an attempt to overcome them, she starts seeing a psychiatrist (Jorge Rigaud), who believes that everything stems from the violent murder of her parents many years beforehand.

Things, however, seem to be getting worse: the hallucinations start intruding into her waking life and she finds herself stalked by the man with azure eyes from her dreams (Ivan Rassimov). Following the advice of a friendly neighbor, she decides that the only way to recover is to attend a sabbat; not, I hasten to add, a treatment for depression advocated by most experts in the field nowadays. Nevertheless, it seems to have worked: her dreams seem to go and she even manages to have intercourse with Richard (after shagging a bunch of saucy Satanists during an orgy, but there you go.)

Her problems, however, are far from over; during a particularly frenzied ritual she stabs her neighbor to death (or thinks she does) before discovering that the man with azure eyes is actually a member of the coven. But what exactly do they all want with her (the obvious aside, randy sods)? And does it have anything to do with her unfortunate parents? Or is she simply going mad?

CRITIQUE

This is an utterly ridiculous, but somehow thoroughly engrossing, slice of cod-psychedelic nonsense. It slots in perfectly as part of a triptych with Next (made a year earlier) and The Case of the Bloody Iris (six months later); a series of films which share recurrent cast (Hilton, Fenech, Rigaud) and crewmembers. They also feature intertwining plot elements that are replayed from one film to another. Here, the story - which draws from Rosemary's Baby (68) - is credited to Santiago Moncado , but it's hard to believe that Ernesto Gastaldi had anything less than a huge input into it. Most probably he provided - along with Sauro Scavolini (The Case of the Scorpion's Tale) - the narrative flesh around the integral black magic MacGuffin, which sounds more like something Moncada (Voodoo Black Exorcist (Vudú sangriento, 73) could have cooked up.

With All the Colors of the Dark, though, the giallo elements are less focused; it's less a 'whodunit' than a 'whatsgoing on'. In that sense, its plays more like the pre-Argento giallos: psychological dramas with plots that lead to, rather than derive from, one or more murders. Stylistically, though, it's filmed in a distinctly seventies fashion and sports some groovetastic Bruno Nicolai music. As in The Case of the Bloody Iris, considerable use is made of the apartment block settings; the twisting staircases, gated lifts and badly lit corridors are made to look most sinister indeed. They're also not entirely dissimilar to the (lower-market) place where you humble reviewer used to live, but without - unfortunately - the nymphomaniac devil worshipping babe next door.

Martino's direction here is varied, but when he hits a rhythm he's one of the most effective directors to have worked with this kind of material. There are some memorable set-pieces, including a couple of stalking sequences, firstly on a terribly lit London Underground train and then on a Riverside walk (recalling The Case of the Scorpions Tail). You can also see the link with Martino's later Torso , which takes the 'vulnerable woman locked in country house with killer' scenario and makes it into the centre point of the whole film. Also impressive is a sequence with Edwige being chased through some woods by Rassimov and his dogs (a reference to The Most Dangerous Game (32), perhaps). Talking of Edwige, she looks absolutely fantastic here, with her big puppy dog eyes (and other bits) to the fore. Hilton has his habitual red-herring role, and plays it in the same buttoned-up - rather than louche - style he was to use in The Case of the Bloody Iris .

Much amusement can also to be found in the hilarious sabbat sequences, in which Julian Ugarte (sporting enormous false fingernails) gets up to all manner of nonsense whilst a bunch of pasty faced goons crowd around, dancing terribly and fondling poor Edwige like she's an authentic Sisters of Mercy 7". I have a sneaking hope that the coven members were all played by English extras, which brings up the interesting possibility that your next door neighbor could have been one of them. Ugarte's actually a pretty creepy looking guy, with his goatee beard and heavily blow-dried hairstyle, so it's no surprise when he's revealed to be a police inspector.

Fun can also be had for British watchers with the London settings, full of typically Italian geographic inconsistencies: Aldwych to Holland Park in three stops on a single train line ; Notting Hill being beside the Thames; a five minute drive to hit the countryside. There's also some priceless dialogue, mostly from the lips of Marina Malfatti's character: 'I've been followed home. a maniac', 'Strange men have been following women since the stone ages'

Long abused on it's many and varied VHS releases, it's now possible to see All the Colors of the Dark in a decent quality version, thanks to the release (with English dialogue) by German label Marketing Films. As well as restoring the opening dream sequence, the climax and a number of essential dialogue scenes, it also makes it easier to appreciate the astounding cinematic skill with which it was made. The composition of certain scenes is incredibly beautiful, and there seems to be a particular penchant for fading from action in the foreground to something else in the background (most prominent in a three-hander involving Hilton, Susan Scott and a beaded curtain).

That said; the film does have its fair share of problems. The script is extraordinarily complicated, relying on some frankly cheeky lapses in logic and outrageous coincidences. Realism was never a cornerstone of Italian thrillers, though, and less forgivable is the draggy pacing in the middle section and a climax that sinks into complete incomprehensibility. This lack of concision makes it generally a less effective work than Next, although the sheer lunacy of the premise and bravado of the filmmaking almost make up for it.

Review by Matt Blake