Leofwine_draca I've watched some utter codswallop in my time, but CROSS OF THE SEVEN JEWELS reaches new lows in almost every respect. This is a painfully bad attempt at an Italian werewolf film (I believe the previous attempt was 1976's NAKED WEREWOLF WOMAN) which would have been halfway decent had it anything resembling a budget. Instead, the film appears to have been made out of the director's loose change. Said director, Marco Antonio Andolfi, also acted as a producer, did the special effects (what special effects?) and took the leading role under a pseudonym, which would have been good had he possessed any movie-making talent whatsoever. Instead, all he has is enthusiasm, which sadly isn't enough.The painfully slow and poorly-filmed movie begins with a red-lit scene in a brothel which looks like it has come straight out of a cheap Asian porno. In it, S&M-clad cult members indulge in kinky sexual acts such as whipping. Presiding over the weird orgy is the craggy-faced cult leader, played by former peplum star Gordon Mitchell (BLOOD DELIRIUM). Poor Gordon. Undoubtedly the star's worst ever film appearance, he gets barely a line of dialogue here and for the most part stands around grimacing and occasionally gurning into the camera in inserts randomly stuck into the middle of other scenes.The incredibly wooden Andolfi stars as a middle-aged guy vacationing in Italy with his girlfriend when his magic lucky necklace is stolen by a petty motorbike thief. From here on, the rest of the film concerns Andolfi attempting to get his necklace back, by visiting all the local criminals and usually getting beaten up as a result. It goes without saying that the criminals are an utterly uninteresting and badly-dressed bunch and the terrible locations seem to use the same set every time, just dressed differently.After an hour of mindless wandering around and uninteresting tame violence, the film comes to an abrupt and unsatisfying end. The dull crime action (which also includes a plodding police investigation, God knows why) is occasionally punctuated with bursts of werewolf violence; the only reason to watch this film being to laugh at just how bad the werewolf in this film is.When reviewing the Peter Cushing film LEGEND OF THE WEREWOLF, critics usually comment on how cheap and derivative the makeup is in it. Similarly, when the Brit horror flick DOG SOLDIERS was recently released, the werewolves were criticised as being unrealistic. Both makeup jobs look like artistic masterpieces in comparison to the shaggy wolfman on display here. Even the werewolf in 1935's creaky WEREWOLF OF London is 100 times more realistic. Remember that ultra-cheap peplum film THE INVINCIBLE BROTHER MACISTE with the race of leopard men? Probably not, but the same 'technology' is used in this film. Namely, a fur mask worn over the head by a fully naked male actor (thankfully, the Japanese version I saw uses genital fogging) and a pair of fur mittens. AWFUL! The end result transforms a normal actor into... a naked guy with a werewolf mask and mittens on.The transformation scene is hilarious, lasting about ten minutes and utilising a "mooing" sound effect to add to the 'horror' of the piece. Sadly, it has the opposite effect. Watch out for the wacky death-by-werewolf scene in which a guy's face melts off like in THE BEYOND, but even cheaper and not as much fun. The less said about the plastic stomach explosion the better. Finally, the slightly controversial werewolf rape sequence is made ludicrous by the fact that the 'werewolf' is quite obviously a guy holding a fur rug over his head. Yes, it's that bad. The editing on this film is choppy and the gratuitous sex scenes involve unappealing actors and actresses, prompting liberal use of the fast-forward button. In all respects, this is terrible and a real bore, and only fans of REALLY BAD movies might get a kick out of it. Just leave your taste at the door beforehand.

MARIO GAUCI Who would have thought that there could be worse werewolf movies than HOWLING II: YOUR SISTER IS A WEREWOLF (1985)? Or worse Italian fantasy films than THE PUMAMAN (1981)? Or that these two unenviable crowns could be worn by the very same title?! This is not to mention that the film in question (and under review) also dabbles in the Camorra, erotica and Satanism fields and makes a shambles of them all! One of the undeniable pleasures of listening to well-researched audio commentaries is when the film historian goes into detail about the actors' careers as a whole and singles out particular titles for whatever reason; this is just how I came to learn about this terminally goofy film when Tim Lucas mentioned it while speaking about Giorgio Ardisson's career during his audio commentary for Mario Bava's ERIK THE CONQUEROR (1961); luckily, even a movie as obscure and thankless as this can be tracked down by intrepid film buffs courtesy of other enterprising fans who are generous enough to share their inexhaustible collections with unknown and far-away members of their 'community'! Even so, the film was also dealt with (albeit very briefly) in the Italian TV programme "Stracult".The film's only two familiar faces – one wonders how they were persuaded to be involved – are Gordon Mitchell (prone to the most hideous overacting as the leader of the Satanists) and the afore-mentioned Ardisson (as a Mafia big-wig who hilariously lapses into English 3 times during his meeting with the local boss whom he addresses as "Don Raffaele of my balls!" in a fit of exasperation). Eddy Endolf is the star, writer, director, editor and special effects designer!; the werewolf make-up is limited to the hands and wrists, the top half of the face and, yes, his private parts – for whatever reason, whenever the change occurs, the man loses his clothing, only to magically regain them upon resuming human form! The first time this occurs he literally does a double-take at the fact that it is that time of the night, even if he had looked at a clock in his victim's house merely seconds before!; the second time it is when he is captured and being grilled by the gangsters…except that they just happen to exit the room at this instance, which leaves us to witness his transformation via a series of dissolves for nearly 5 minutes, the odd facial hair being applied with each successive cut! The film begins with a black mass, presided over by Mitchell, and involving several masked/naked men and women engaged in sexual activity; one of them is actually getting it on with a Swamp Thing-like demon! The latter, called Aborym, has actually been invoked during the ceremony and it transpires that one of his mistresses was the hero's mother (hence his monstrous legacy). However, when she tells her master/lover she wants out, he bursts in repeated cries of "Slut!" and inflates her body so much that it cracks open, unleashing much goo (for the record, the first werewolf victim and Mitchell's own unexplained demise are similarly grisly)! Incidentally, 20 years after the fact, Endolf resurrected this particular character in a 30-minute short entitled HERE'S ABORYM AGAIN! At the core of the film is a demented (and drawn-out) dream sequence made up of random snippets from earlier scenes – including that hilarious pre-transformation look of surprise upon the hero's face! The leading man is protected by the titular talisman – incidentally, the film was also released as TALISMAN in some quarters and had sequences dealing with the war in Bosnia included for Japanese screenings! – but early on it is stolen in a daylight street robbery (the culprits being motorcycle-riding junkies whom we had just seen shooting up by the sea, with Mitchell himself doubling as the pusher!). The protagonist's many attempts to retrieve it land him in a disco (cue bad music and worse dancing) where he even gets one hell of a beating; deposited outside the establishment, he is found and nursed back to health by a young woman. During the fracas in the mobsters' lair, he learns that the priceless artifact has been donated by Don Raffaele to a lady friend (when Ardisson had made him contact her but he is unable to get through, the latter spits: "What's this bitch doing – humping the phone?"); when the hero finally locates her, she proves to be a horny fortune teller (an old woman he asked for directions tells him: "If she's a lady, I'm the Madonna!") who, not currently having what he wanted at her disposal, suggests they pass the time in bed. Endolf obliges, having no choice but, predictably, at midnight (not the rising of the moon, mind you!) he turns into a monster yet again: the ecstatic woman is oblivious to the change but, even though starting to foam at the mouth, he keeps at it! Ultimately, he is yet again saved, in the typically disorientated state after each metamorphosis, by the girl he loves and the two go to the Vatican to give thanks (I kid you not!).The music is by Paolo Rustichelli, son of esteemed composer and Bava regular Carlo. The copy I watched was culled from an Italian TV broadcast (though the channel name has been digitally erased) which suffered from audio glitches during the aftermath-of-the-robbery sequence. In the end, all one can do here is surmise that a lot of thought must have gone into concocting such a bizarrely improbable concept, and just as much to rally a conglomeration of non-talents to execute it!

capkronos What an overly-complicated mess! Undoubtedly one of the worst werewolf films of all time. It may also be one of the worst romances, one of the worst crime flicks, one of the worst action movies and one of the worst occult thrillers ever created. Why? Because it tries to be all these things at once and fails miserably at all of them! Director Mario Antonio Andolfi, who also edited the picture and did the "special" effects, takes on more jobs than he should have since he obviously has little talent in any of the above areas. He also decided it was a good idea to cast himself (using the name "Eddy Endolf") in the lead role. In addition, he also provided the screenplay, so it's no surprise that the females in the cast keep fawning over how "good looking" and "cute" he is. One of the ladies even says "I've always dreamed of meeting a man like you." A-hem. Now Andolfi really isn't a terrible looking guy and he obviously likes to keep in shape, but it's hard to watch a film as lame and cheap as this one without rolling your eyes over how ridiculously narcissistic the whole thing is. As someone already pointed out here, it's basically a silly vanity production and one of those movies that was conceived by someone wanting to showcase how multi-talented and appealing they assume they are. When these things don't work out, there's a certain smugness to them that's pretty irritating. Technical incompetence and horn tooting aside, what really turns this movie into a headache-inducing bore is how overly-complicated, unfocused and talky it is.The film opens with Gordon Mitchell presiding over a red-lit black mass ceremony where he keeps chanting about Aborin while people in silly S&M attire and black harnesses roll around on the floor, a topless woman is whipped and some fat old guy in a thong keeps rubbing up against a woman. Meanwhile, successful banker Marco Sartori (guess who?) has just arrived at a train station in Naples on an invite from his cousin Carmella, who he's never met. As she starts showing him around the city, Mitchell's character appears on a beach where a heroin deal is taking place. He gets those junkies to steal Marco's precious silver cross necklace with multi-colored jewels. Marco flips out. He needs to get back the necklace because it prevents him from transforming into a werewolf. Marco discovers that the woman who claimed to be his cousin actually was an impostor who set him up. He follows clues back to a nightclub. There he meets a prostitute/drug dealer named Maria (HOUSE ON THE EDGE OF THE PARK's Annie Belle), who became trapped in a life of crime after her parents were killed but now wants out. Marco ends up tied to a chair where a bunch of thugs rough him up because they want him to give him the names of all his millionaire customers. After escaping that situation, Marco ends up confronting a black market dealer, whose head ends up melting after he's pushed against a wall (?) Marco and Maria naturally fall in love, and she accompanies him around to different Italian cities in his frantic search for the necklace. On occasion, the beast comes out and he has no control over his actions. And what a beast it is! More of that to come...The plot line gets ridiculously overstuffed before long. Marco ends up smack in the middle of this huge Italian crime ring that specializes in drug trafficking and various other crimes. There's talk of Camorra bosses, Moroccon coke connections, political corruption, truth serums, terrorism and all kinds of other stuff that isn't the least bit interesting. Even more time is wasted with a clichéd, boring police investigation that serves no purpose whatsoever. And if that's not enough, there's a long nightmare sequence that shows repeat footage of stuff we've already seen cut in with flash-forwards of stuff we haven't seen yet but are about to. One scene is a flashback to how Marco acquired the necklace as a toddler. Apparently, his mother gave it to him before a Chewbacca-look ape monster made her stomach explode before disappearing into thin air (!?) The same oversexed demon ape creature thing also makes an appearance at Mitchell's Satanic hoe-down, where it has sex with a topless blonde cultist. By the way, all of these black mass scenes seem completely disconnected from the rest of the film and have no relevance to the rest of the story. None of the characters appear together on screen at any time. It's as if they were tacked on a later date solely to provide additional nudity.Ultimately, Marco learns that his necklace has fallen into the hands of medium and occult science expert Madame Amnesia. And when he shows up to get it, she starts her psychic session dressed in lingerie. This leads to a gratuitous rape sequence. Yep, werewolf psychic rape complete with foamy drool. Not as good as it sounds folks. And I haven't even mentioned that this has what could easily be the worst werewolf "costume" ever created. It consists of long hair that covers the top part of the head only, some furry gloves and a small codpiece so Marco doesn't show his junk. Otherwise, he basically runs around bare-assed clawing, biting and throwing people around. Again, not nearly as good as it sounds. The transformation scenes use time lapse photography. The dubbed dialogue is awkward as hell. When's the last time someone woke you up saying, "End of sleeping period." And when's the last time a growling crime ring leader gritted his teeth to call you a "damned little fat head!" Fans of horrible, cheap, trashy, inept movies should like this one.

Steve Nyland (Squonkamatic) Marco Antonio Andolfi is a man of many talents. He is an actor, a special effects craftsman, a script writer, a film editor, and probably a costume jewelry designer, since the cross mentioned in the title of this film is so prominently displayed one has to conclude that either he or his spouse created the damn thing.Mr. Andolfi's legendary erotic werewolf horror movie CROSS OF SEVEN JEWELS concerns the woes of Mario, an Italian chap with a bizarre haircut who grew up with the curse of lycanthropy that can only be kept in check by the effects of said cross, which he must wear at all times. If he does not, under the effects of the moon -- full, half full, or even hidden behind clouds -- he reverts to his primal inner monster of a masked naked man who can kill by inflicting the kind of heat gun melting effects seen in RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARK. He can also tear people limb from limb, and has a curious pastie patch that fits over his private parts to make sure the film doesn't get an X certificate.Mario travels to Milan to meet his long-lost second cousin, who turns out to be a dishy little sex bombshell in a revealingly tight pink top that was chosen for her wardrobe specifically because it serves to display her pert, perky, permanently erect nipples. I mention this because it was the most memorable positive aspect of the film, even more memorable than the fact that she isn't actually his cousin. Mario is so distracted by her delightful pert breasts that he falls victim to an improbably elaborate street crime involving youths on motorcycles -- inspired by a similar scene from FULL METAL JACKET -- who tear the cross from his chest and promptly turn it over to the city's big crime kingpin. A fence who looks like Groucho Marx and wears a corsage that looks like a squashed tomato.Meanwhile, Spaghetti Western and Hercules/Peplum star Gordon Mitchell is conducting blasphemous erotic satanic ceremonies down in someone's basement when not mugging for the camera from odd, upwards looking angles that highlight his somewhat sinister rough hewn facial features. Spaghetti Western and Euro Horror icon George Ardisson is dispatched by a corrupt local politician to find out wassap with that goofy cross, leading Mario to an energetic sexual encounter with a bikini clad fortune teller who is really a prostitute. This is some movie.Marco Antonio Andolfi must have been a very wealthy playboy type schnook with a lot of free time on his hands and access to film-making facilities. As my fellow commenter has pointed out, he is obviously a fan of Spain's Paul Naschy and his tragic erotic werewolf cartoons. Mr. Andolfi wanted to pay homage to Naschy (and every other movie he had seen in his life) and this was the result. It is a remarkable little vanity project, devoid of any sense of traditional cinematic craft other than the presence of Mr. Mitchell, Mr. Ardisson, and the girl with the amazing breasts. Even the werewolf transformation scenes have a sort of blasé artlessness about them that is made more poignant by noting that when he becomes a werewolf he is nude, but when reverting back to his old self his clothes are back, except for one instance at the very end that is supposed to be a love scene.Marco Antonio Andolfi's most visible talent lies with his haircut, which is so precise that it makes an almost perfect 90 degree angle where the sideburns meet the top of his hairline. He looks a lot like "Seinfeld"'s Kramer, though without that smoldering look of insanity just waiting to be unleashed. I almost feel bad writing some of this because it is quite obvious that Marco Antonio Andolfi poured his very heart & soul into this film, and yet it's most useful purpose is as a source of uproarious unintentional comedy. Are we supposed to take it seriously? I sincerely hope not, but something tells me otherwise and I would hate to hurt his feelings if he ever came upon my little review here.So I'd like to take a second to say: Marco, I loved your werewolf movie, though probably for reasons other than those you intended. It is one of the most amazing little movies ever made, filled with so many little wonderful gems -- like the tie that is always perfectly in place -- that a mere 1,000 words cannot begin to communicate it's value as an entertainment. Wherever you are and whatever you are doing now, the world is richer for having your werewolf movie as a testament to your desire to having wanted to see it for yourself, which is why people should make art in the first place. I hope you show it every day in your restaurant or whatever you do with yourself just to remind the everyday people who eat there that they are in the presence of a legend.4/10