Joe D'Amato's Caligola: La storia mai raccontata (1982)

"[Why did you make] your subsequent film Caligola: La storia mai raccontata?" asks an interviewer to Joe D'Amato in Spaghetti Nightmares. To this question, D'Amato tersely and succinctly responds, "That was commercial exploitation of the successful film by Tinto Brass."As such, only a cursory knowledge by the viewer of the history of Roman emperor Caligula is required, and perhaps more importantly, at least in terms of cinematic exploitation, the viewer gets treated to a depiction within Caligola: La storia mai raccontata (1982) of the traditional traits associated with the emperor's reign: egomania-cum-insanity, sexual deviancy, and indulgence. Caligola is a conduit film, leading its viewer to a long, indulgent orgy sequence in its middle from which its exposition inevitably leads. The orgy sequence buttresses the film, as D'Amato circuits Caligola's beginning and final act with a thin revenge plot line against the titular ruler.

Caligula (David Brandon) is having nightmares about his assassination. Domitius (Michele Soavi) attempts to murder him while the emperor is sleeping. Caligula's killing is thwarted by his bodyguard, Ulmar (Sasha D'Arc). While horseback-riding on the beach one day with Messala (Luciano Bartoli), Caligula sees a group of young people at the shore, one of whom is beautiful Livia (Fabiola Toledo). Livia belongs to a religious cult who do not worship the divine emperor as god. Caligula and Messala ambush Livia and her lover, and during Caligula's rape of Livia, she kills herself with a dagger. Caligula summons the senators, later, and tells them of his new architectural plans, so fitting for an emperor-cum-god. Unfortunately, Caligula does not have the funds to construct his opulent design, so an orgy is planned to raise the capital. Miriam (Laura Gemser), fellow cult member and friend of Livia, sees the orgy as an opportunity to avenge Livia's death so she decides to infiltrate. "What about the Caligula movie that you did?" asks an interviewer (from Flesh and Blood, Number Six, FAB Press, 1996). "I mean, half that movie is hardcore..." D'Amato responds [as to whether D'Amato shoots the hardcore inserts within some of his films]: "Yeah. Sure, sure, but Caligola was done like this--there are two versions, one soft version and one hardcore version...Yeah, I shot the hardcore version. In Caligola, yes. [note--The hardcore version, running at approximately one hundred and twenty five minutes is the version of the film here under review.]" While Caligola is not composed of half hardcore footage, the film certainly appears that way, as the viewer is led to its focal, middle orgy sequence by the emperor's violent and sexually deviant acts (and led out of the orgy sequence into another series of the same). Brandon's Caligula presides over D'Amato's most meticulous sequence: excessive wine-drinking and gluttonous eating are only the beginning. The sex acts begin with laughter, teasing, and fondling. A juggler walks in with fire batons. D'Amato heats the sequence up as the orgy truly begins. Two fighters enter and begin a fight to the death on the floor, donning spiked gloves. As the two punch and beat on each other, the blood sprays on the party guests. D'Amato relishes the close-up shots of the guests wiping the blood off of their faces to continue eating and drinking, as if the spraying blood was a minor party foul and totally expected. After one warrior dies at the fists of the other, after Caligula giving the thumbs-down sign, a horse and a woman are escorted in. "Watch this," says Caligula to Miriam. "It's a wonderful performance." It's an offensive scene. D'Amato finishes the sequence with his hardcore footage (Mark Shannon's inclusion is unsurprising here). A completely repellent and unerotic sequence.The commercial success of Tinto Brass's Caligola (1979) created a temporary market for films made in its wake, hoping to seduce more viewers by providing (and pushing the limits) of the sensational elements of the original. D'Amato's Caligola appears exactly that way--almost as if it's a temporary film awaiting completion, with a better narrative or more powerful compositions and visuals. To his credit, save the weaponry (which obviously look like costume props), the detail to the historic look of the film feels genuine. The costumes, the sets, and the armor, for example, all appear credible. D'Amato's own cinematography is professional and competent and sees little flare (save the middle sequence). Caligula's relationship with Soavi's Domitius is an engaging side plot and one of the more interesting touches of the film, as it really the most representative of Caligula's insane cruelty. (Soavi would cast Brandon as an ego-maniacal and somewhat cruel theatre director in his excellent directorial debut, Stage Fright (1987), a D'Amato Filmirage production). Brandon gives a very over-the-top performance as the emperor. Caligula's dream sequences contain D'Amato's best visual work. The masked, helmeted assassin is effectively haunting. D'Amato's signature hand-held camerawork is brilliant, as Brandon's Caligula wanders from the seashore of the beach, around the littered bodies of dead senators, up to a dune to encounter his killer. Carlo Maria Cordio's score is beautiful.Woefully underused are Laura Gemser and especially Gabriele Tinti, as the senator Agrippa. Tinti has a wonderfully emotive face and is an extremely talented dramatic actor. Tinti appears in few scenes (with two notably offensive scenes near the end, one involving torture). Gemser has never been an exceptional actress but is very charismatic and often brings an alluring air to her roles, adding a flare which only she can spark. She is not given much to do but to carry the thin revenge plot line, while her sex scenes with Brandon are completely unerotic (surprising from Gemser). Again, Caligola feels temporary, as if D'Amato and company wanted to shock its viewers into the theatres quickly before they forgot about Brass's original. Well, D'Amato succeeded in creating a forgettable film, himself.

Riccardo Freda's Murder obsession (Follia omicida) (1981)

Michael (Stefano Patrizi) is acting in a scene with Beryl (Laura Gemser), and something within Michael takes over while he's strangling her. "You seemed as if you really wanted to murder her," says director Hans (Henri Garcin) to his leading man, after it takes half the crew to pull Michael's hands away from Beryl's throat. Michael cools out at his flat, strumming his guitar, when a sudden gush of wind blows through the window. This gush of wind prompts Michael to want to see his mother, Glenda (Anita Strindberg) after many years without. Michael and his girlfriend, Deborah (Silvia Dionisio) drive to Michael's childhood home, where they are greeted by the manservant, Oliver (John Richardson). Glenda's ill and has desperately missed her baby boy. Michael's going to scout some film locations around the villa's countryside, so Hans, Beryl, and Shirley (Martine Brochard) are invited to the villa for both business and pleasure.
Riccardo Freda's Murder obsession (Follia omicida) (1981) is a mess. Highly influenced by Dario Argento's previous films, such as Profondo Rosso (1975), Suspiria (1977), and Inferno (1980) in terms of themes, style, and atmosphere, Murder obsession lacks Argento's inimitable and singular style and atmosphere; and unfortunately for Freda, he's unable to direct a film that's an Argento-esque mess (a whole other level of sublime beauty). Murder obsession is bits and pieces of a lot of motifs and genres which escalates to a surprisingly focused ending; yet for all its ending's focus, it reaches the heights of incredulity. Black-gloved killers and sexual obsessions are side by side with psychic phenomena and the occult and a black mass, which are further indulged by hallucinatory dream imagery from dated Gothic horror and as much bloody gore and special effects that can be sculpted and then shot. Like Michael making an associational link between a gust of wind to calling his neglected mother of many years, Murder obsession works in the same way: completely irrational (and certainly supernatural), the film is a lot of guilty fun.
Patrizi's Michael is a complex and enigmatic character, only because Freda (and his co-writers Fabio Piccioni, Antonio Cesare Corti, and Simon Mizrahi) doesn't know in what direction to take his main character (or his film, for that matter). Michael's initial sequence on the set while strangling Beryl curiously hints to Michael having a psychological affliction or some supernatural possession. Freda plays to both. Michael's father was murdered when he was a child and he was present at his father's death, along with Strindberg's Glenda. Michael has grown up to become a dead ringer for his father. Apparently, Michael was quite fond of his mother as a child, and now as an adult and at the villa, he's rekindled a strong attraction to his mother (Strindberg, incidentally, looks the same age as Patrizi or only slightly older). Glenda is also taken with her grown son, and although bed-ridden and ill, she immediately begins her subtle seduction. Michael's somewhat Oedipal upbringing combined with his childhood trauma could be the source for his "murder obsession" that is blossoming. However, Freda's treatment, like the mysterious gust of wind, dreamy flashback sequences of Michael's childhood, and the over-dramatic use of music hint also that perhaps not only does Michael look like his dead father but might be literally becoming the dead man. (It's later revealed that Michael's hidden secret is related to his father being abusive to his mother.)
Gemser's Beryl, Brochard's Shirley, and Garcin's Hans appear in Murder obsession, seemingly, to provide a body count or a red herring. Gemser's character is not developed at all and has really no depth. She wakes frightened from a sound (or a dream) to have Brochard's Shirley suggest that she take a bath. While in the bathtub, a black-gloved killer hides in the shadows and attacks her. Gemser's Beryl survives the attack only then to be placed in a giallo signature voyeuristic scene with Michael. Michael emerges from the woods with knife in hand to encounter the contemplative Beryl at lakeside. Michael pockets the knife, and without words, the two embrace and have sex. The two sleep after lovemaking to only have one wake up. Brochard's Shirley has even less depth than Gemser's character, although Freda and company intimate in a few scenes that Shirley and Brochard are having an intimate relationship (only hinted at, again, and never developed). Garcin's Hans, revealed in a long dialogue sequence with Strindberg's Glenda absent from the English-language print of Murder obsession, is not only a film director but also quite interested and knowledgeable about the occult. Hans has several strong beliefs about reincarnation and death. Foreshadowing? No. Hans and the occult do not commingle again in the film. When chainsaw appears, however, innocuously in the hands of Richardson's Oliver cutting wood, it does make an appearance again...as a murder weapon. Score one for Freda.
Among a cast of actors (all of whom have made notable appearances in European cult cinema), Silvia Dionisio stands above all as Deborah with her performance. (Dionisio's performance, like Strindberg, appears to be one of her last.) Deborah is a great character, and if Freda could have found some focus and development to match Dionisio's talent and enthusiasm, Murder obsession might be more well-known (and subsequently appreciated). When Michael first introduces Deborah, it is to Oliver as his "girlfriend." However, when Deborah meets Strindberg's Glenda, Michael introduces her as "his secretary." Dionisio's Deborah immediately and intuitively picks up on Glenda's jealousy, and the two become rivals for Michael's affection. The few scenes that the two have together are charged and tension-filled (Strindberg gives a fantastic performance, as well). Deborah's both sweet and smart: she knows that something is wrong with Michael, and despite his attempts to push her away, she's still affectionate and caring towards him. The best sequence of Murder obsession (and also Freda's most indulgent) comes with a very long dramatization of Deborah's nightmare that she tells Michael upon waking. Dionisio's Deborah descends into the deep, dark Gothic catacombs of the villa where she is being chased by a caked-face figure in a shroud. She spies a beautiful, Eden-like garden on the outside, only to have her path blocked by a giant rubber spider and its web. Through a foggy, sinister thorn forest, she ends in the hands of two dark figures in the midst of a black mass. Real snakes and a motorized spider lay in front of the bound Deborah, as the dark duo prepare their sacrifice. Utterly amazing. Dionisio carries the sequence, despite the laughable effects and ridiculous settings. Wide-eyed and frightened, most actresses would be unable to conjure as much credible emotion as Dionisio. All of her scenes within the film are welcomed. Sensuous and beautiful, it's hard for me to take my eyes off of her.
Included on the Raro release of Murder obsession is the longer Italian-language cut of the film without the options of English subtitles. An English language audio track is included, and for the scenes cut out of the English-language version, English subtitles are provided for the Italian audio. A short scene is included from the English print, absent from the Italian, less than thirty seconds, dark and murky of just really Gemser splashing in the bathtub. The highlight, and only other extra is an interview with Sergio Stivaletti, who worked (uncredited) on Murder obsession's special effects with Angelo Mattei. Mattei, according to Stivaletti, had previously worked with Dario Argento (apparently created the corpses for the underwater scene in Inferno.) Stivaletti describes Murder obsession as his first break, working with Mattei and Freda, and anecdotes about the production. The film is presented non-anamorphic and letterboxed. It doesn't have the sharpest picture or most clear audio, but I found it more than acceptable (considering the title's obscurity).