GL84 Moving into a new apartment building, a pair of models find themselves becoming the object of a strange killer searching the tenants of the building and as the rampage continues they find themselves at the center of the killers' target and must try to stop him before they kill again.This was quite an intriguing and enjoyable enough Giallo. Like the majority of the films in the genre, this one really gets quite a lot to like here from the opening half which definitely starts off with the typical introduction of the suspects for the case. As much of the opening act is concerned with the strained relationship with the ex-husband detailing flashbacks to their kinky sex-life with orgies and free-love galore modeled around the few select stalking scenes within the apartment and the concurrent investigation that brings the girls into the building makes for a great set-up in this particular genre. Due to the different photography sessions and the murders usually conducted in the bathrooms the nudity present as well certainly helps move this one along rather nicely with these more traditional elements introduced in the police officer investigating the crimes on the outskirts of their lives. Those are just as much fun with the different strikes coming off incredibly well, with the opening murder in the elevator being effective and startling at the beginning of the film, an attack in a victim's darkened apartment knowing there's somebody in there with them is quite effective while the stand-out sequence of an attack in the middle of a crowded shopping center while passersby are so wrapped up in their own lives they fail to notice the death in the first place is a real show-stopper. Later scenes of the stalking in the cars' junkyard which turns into the big battle in the abandoned factory that's really enjoyable, while the main confrontation at the end which uses the twist-ending and brawl with the killer that's rather nice and enjoyable, ending this one a fine note. While these make for a nice enough Giallo, it does have a few flaws to it. The main issue is the fact that the film decides to pile on a series of red-herrings into the plot that it really doesn't make much sense at all. Simply trying to get as many plot-points as this one maneuvers through into action manages to downplay the action into a crawl for a long stretch of time trying to get everything out to set-up it's red herrings moving the story along. It really doesn't generate the kind of proper structure here maintaining all these obscure characters and useless tangents looking at the other features that manage to hold the middle section into a veritable loop of rather bland moments which really slows it down, quite the opposite of what's really needed at that point in the film. Likewise, the other facet of this manifests itself in the fact that the killer is quite easy to guess and really doesn't come as that much of a surprise when it's revealed, leading to a slightly unimpressive finale because all the time has been spent on these other areas that it just feels quite lackluster. These here are the film's issues.Rated Unrated/R: Graphic Violence, Nudity, Language and mild sexual scenes.

kapelusznik18 ***SPOILERS*** Italian bloody Giallo film with a bit of bite to it in the killers reasons for doing in his victims for both personal as well as family concerns. There's also the police chief Commissor Enci who's more interested in his stamp collection then in finding the killer who seems to be a tenant of a high rise building where the first two murders in the movie were committed. It's Jennifer who seems to be the target of the killer who's ex-husband Adam was the head of this sex cult that she was a member of. Adam for his part after trying to bring his ex-wife back into the cult is himself murdered by the masked killer who also goes so far as murdering Jennifer's room-mate Marilyn-while not wearing his mask-in broad daylight in front of dozens of people without anyone being able to see or recognize him.It's now up to the building architect the fainting at the sight of blood Andrea Barto who for some reason is the #1 suspect in these bloody murders-with the exception of that of lady wrestle Mizar who was drowned in her bathtub-who's not only on the run from the police but determined to find the real killer in order to exonerate himself of the crimes.****SPOILERS****Wild life and death struggle at the top of a 20 floor staircase between Barto and the killer with a terrified Jennifer whom the killer was really after looking on and unable to help. The deranged killer by now completely losing it, that his both grasp of the situation as well as the stair rail, ends up falling to his death in spectacular fashion. Meanwhile Barto ends up not only exonerated of the killer's slew of murders but also seemed to have, through shock treatment, overcome his fear of blood phobia. P.S Among the crazy cast of characters in the movie is Arthur the Woody Allen like photographer who only seems to be in this gory film for needed comedy relief but in that by him stealing every scene he's in almost makes you forget about the murders committed in the movie.

Blake Peterson Stylish, alluring, and agreeable, "The Case of the Bloody Iris" is a straightforward giallo less notable for its dexterous offings and more for leading lady Edwige Fenech, the inarguable queen of the genre. While never reaching the orgasmic heights of other masterpieces of the era (most helmed by Dario Argento and Mario Bava, of course), "The Case of the Bloody Iris" is still a splendidly fun (albeit gory) murder mystery that embraces its ridiculousness and makes up for convoluted time with sophisticated design and worthy blood-soaked set pieces. It's an admirable time waster, a slasher dressed to the nines in pre-De Palma swank.As in all gialli, a gloved killer wrapped in sharp black is mercilessly butchering physically beautiful young women for kicks, this time in a luxurious high rise apartment. Days after two women are murdered in a twenty-four hour period, models Jennifer (Edwige Fenech) and Marilyn (Paola Quattrini) move into one of the victims' apartment, hardly worried about the room's sordid past. "Life goes on," Marilyn scoffs, as if wishing to jinx herself into murder mystery oblivion. But it doesn't take long for the pair to realize that such things can hardly be laughed off, especially when considering the building itself seems to contain a number of shady characters easily able to commit such heinous acts. Suspects include a stereotyped lesbian neighbor, a misogynistic old woman that lives with her disturbingly deformed son, and even Jennifer's love interest (George Hilton), an architect with a crippling phobia of blood. And it doesn't help that Jennifer's maniacal ex-husband (Ben Carra) enjoys spending his days stalking his former wife instead of making a living. In order to fully enjoy "The Case of the Bloody Iris", one must disregard the horrendous dubbing, the severely stiff performances, and the regularly asinine script — because this is a film about style and Edwige Fenech, not much else. (Those expecting the normal amount of generous giallo gore will be sorely disappointed.) The first murder is exquisitely shot — with hardly a word of dialogue to spare, it follows a comely blonde from a telephone booth to her apartment building's elevator, where she winds up slashed to death after the passengers depart one by one. Clearly inspiration for Angie Dickinson's gruesome offing in "Dressed to Kill" (which is miles better), the scene sets the tone of the film: absurd but competently suspenseful. Because much of the film is absurd — Jennifer's religious cult back-story is unneeded and contains a gratuitous orgy scene (hardly graphic) more laughable than tantalizing, and her bad habit of wandering away from safety in a time of danger is maddening — but, for the most part, "The Case of the Bloody Iris" classes it up while later '70s peers of the "Black Christmas" mindset didn't. It cares more about how it appears than how it builds intellectually, so thank God it looks like the chic second cousin of "Blowup" or some other mod infused character study.Best of all is Edwige Fenech: never have I seen her in one of her famous gialli (those were directed by Sergio Martino, and I'm still in the process of trying to find a copy to view), and this film gives an idea as to why she is an underground legend. With her cat eyes, voluptuous figure, and jet black hair, it's impossible not to stare at her, mouth agape and all. One can hardly call her a fine actress, but Fenech has presence, a characteristic hardly found in other giallo women like Barbara Bouchet or Ida Galli. The camera clings to her composure almost passively; she can turn a poorly executed scene into a work of art by merely acting as its center. Maybe her films with Martino are better, but "The Case of the Bloody Iris" is a giallo minor but palatable.

MARIO GAUCI Before 2000, which is when I effectively joined the Internet generation, there were only two names in the prolific directory of Italian genre film-makers that I respected (if not exactly admired), namely Dario Argento and Mario Bava. Then, once I had joined one of the many movie-related discussion forums that proliferate online to this day and started keeping abreast of new and upcoming DVD releases, I became a casual fan of the maligned but popular Giallo genre; the point-of-no-return (as it were) for me was catching up with several of them and meeting some of the film-makers responsible at the 61st Venice Film Festival in September 2004! Curiously enough, genre stalwart Edwige Fenech attended the Festival – being one of the producers of, appropriately enough, THE MERCHANT OF VENICE starring Al Pacino and Jeremy Irons – but she was nowhere to be seen during the midnight screenings and afternoon press conferences honoring her heritage!Actually, the sultry presence of Fenech in this Italian brand of vicious horror-thriller hybrid was one of the reasons I had looked down on them for so long since, to my mind, she was simply the uninhibited object of desire in countless lowbrow comedies that most Maltese male adolescents of my generation grew up with and could hardly be expected to appear in anything worthy of serious critical consideration (as opposed to effortless hormonal titillation) and, indeed, I do recall once coming across the very film under review one late night on Italian TV in my childhood days and bursting out in laughter when the obtuse title card – literally translating to WHY THOSE STRANGE DROPS OF BLOOD ON JENNIFER'S BODY? – came on, realizing immediately that it was going to be one of those unrewarding efforts and summarily aborting the viewing! So, it was not with a little incredulity that I learned that Anchor Bay were including it in their much-heralded but disappointingly obscure and barebones Box Set entitled "The Giallo Collection"; although I did not spring for it at the time, in the interim I have acquired three of the four titles therein with the resolutely elusive WHO SAW HER DIE? (1972) still being the odd one out after all these years!Anyway, while the end result is no classic even within the modest confines of its prototype, it is certainly an agreeably thrilling, enjoyably sleazy and surprisingly amusing addition to the fold. The simplistic plot deals with a series of murders occurring in a block of apartments that immediately points the finger of suspicion to one of the inhabitants (Fenech or her goofy girlfriend whom she shares the apartment with; violinist Georges Rigaud and his lesbian daughter; or a bespectacled elderly woman who happens to be an avid reader of pulp thrillers and her belatedly-introduced deformed son), proprietors (architect George Hilton) or friends of same (gay photographer Oreste Lionello, a Woody Allen-lookalike!). Even from this threadbare dramatis personae of mine, it is not too hard to guess the would-be moralistic identity of the fedora-sporting, black-gloved and fully-masked assailant that probably owes its look to the defining film within the genre, Mario Bava's BLOOD AND BLACK LACE (1964). Fenech is a publicity model that is persecuted by jilted 'husband' Ben Carra' who, after sharing her so many times with his cronies in their free-loving, orgiastic commune, suddenly realizes he cannot live without her when she decides to quit and keeps tormenting her with his night-time visits accompanied by the titular calling card of the iris; this incident links the film to two earlier and superior Gialli equally starring Fenech and scripted by Ernesto Gastaldi, namely THE STRANGE VICE OF MRS. WARDH (1971; also featuring Hilton) and ALL THE COLORS OF THE DARK (1972). Hilton soon has his eye and hands on her once a prospective model – who works as a wrestling stripper(!) in Luciano Pigozzi's dive – gets drowned in the proverbial bath-tub (another nod to the above-mentioned Bava masterpiece). The body count keeps rising with Fenech's idiotic friend Paola Quattrini getting knifed in the chest in broad daylight (with Hilton getting the blame, naturally), Carra' being found murdered in Fenech's closet, Rigaud's daughter Annabella Incontrera getting scalded in the face amidst the apartment's subterranean plumbing tubes, the deformed son getting his after having helped the killer dispose of a body and the latter himself meeting his doom by getting thrown off the staircase in the nick-of-time climactic fisticuff with Hilton!While nothing of what is described above makes THE CASE OF THE BLOODY IRIS one of the more memorable outings of its kind, I have to admit to being consistently entertained throughout – from the slutty publicity sessions overseen by the gay cameramen to the campily erotic cabaret routine and from Quattrini's gallows humor (that is usually met with a sneer from Fenech or a slap from Hilton!) to the improbable antics of the eccentric old lady. Two major supporting characters that I have not mentioned yet are the investigating duo of hard-boiled Commissioner Giampiero Alberi and his bumbling curly-haired underling Franco Agostini. For what it is worth, most of the female characters here have foreign names but the film is clearly set in Italy and director Carnimeo (billed under his familiar Americanized moniker of Anthony Ascott even on the Italian-language print I watched) was a Spaghetti Western veteran – including seemingly half-a-dozen SARTANAs and the underrated Jeffrey Hunter oater, FIND A PLACE TO DIE (1968) – here making a largely successful solitary foray into a diverse playing field.