Poor Gordon (Peter Mullan). He's tired. Sitting in his work truck in a truly universal pose, he sips his coffee, because his newborn baby, Emma, is not sleeping well. Compounding problems is his job: his hazmat crew needs one desperately; so a successful bid, at all costs, to remove the asbestos from Danvers Mental Hospital is of the highest priority. Of course, Phil (David Caruso), his crew captain, is going to remind him of that in his passive-aggressive, "if I were running things, things would be different" way. Danvers is old and looms large with an older history, but that's really not on Gordon's mind. However, Danvers is certainly thinking about Gordon's mind, as an ominous voice greets Gordon, while walking the halls of the old psycho ward. The supernatural meets the psychological in Brad Anderson's Session 9 (2001).

With a story that is at least as old as Henry James's The Turn of the Screw (1898) and a look and atmosphere influenced by Stanley Kubrick's The Shining (1980), Session 9 is a film that is both elegantly simple and simply elegant. Gordon's crew does get the gig to clean up Danvers, only after he seriously underbids to do the work in one week (and gives a slight sympathy plea) to the organizer. The one-week time frame creates the framework of the narrative, as each day increasingly becomes darker in both tone and visuals. After a short yet integral scene of Gordon arriving home to his baby girl and wife with flowers to celebrate, the film cuts to the first day, with the hum of the generator, as the crew begins work. Mike (Stephen Gevedon; also co-writer) is a law-school dropout, who secretly has an obsession with Danvers's dark past. Hank (Josh Lucas) is a lazy, smart-assed, wannabe gambler, who has stolen away Phil's girlfriend. Finally, there's young Jeff (Brendan Sexton III), sporting a serious mullet and not knowing a damn thing. 
After Phil tells the crew at lunch that the gig will last a week with a cash bonus for its on-time completion, Mike tells a story about some of the real "horrors" that went on in Danvers during its heyday. As the crew goes back to work, Danvers begins to work its spell upon them. Mike finds in the basement a box of old recordings of a patient's, Mary Hobbes, psychiatric sessions. Hobbes had a multiple-personality disorder, which manifests itself in three other personalities, beyond her own. Mike begins listening to the first session and over the course of the week, he takes every opportunity he gets to avoid working and listen to them. The sessions end with the titular tape: they are genuinely horrifying and engrossing, because the sessions come off as real. Hearing only the quiet and rational doctor attempt to counsel his patient, as he works through each session to get Mary to talk about, presumably, a childhood murder, is unnervingly creepy. Each of the personalities are revealed, and by the end of the film, the final personality not only draws the film together but kind of explains the goings on. The session tapes are a second story within Session 9 that drives the main narrative, seamlessly.
Hank finds an old coin while roaming the basement catacombs, spraying the ducts with the "red slime." In fact, Hank finds several of them, coming from a endless fountain out of the wall (which is shown cleverly to have its origin in the morgue). One evening, in the film's only night scene, Hank returns to Danvers to loot his find. In Session 9's most traditional "haunted house" sequence, Anderson creates real tension and the film's few jump scares, as Hank is chased (?) through the corridors by a shadowy figure. Hank doesn't show up to work the following day, and Phil is not surprised. Phil and Hank do not like each other, but Gordon thinks something else is going on. The work at Danvers is becoming more stressful over the week, and Gordon is acting stranger. On Thursday, clueless Jeff climbs the stairs to find Hank, standing at the top, and the film perfectly escalates to its conclusion.
Session 9 is a character-driven film, and no character stands out more than the location, the Danvers Mental Institution. Like the Overlook Hotel in The Shining, the location has its own personality, and Anderson devotes the film's initial exposition to a long tour of the facility. Danvers is a genuinely real location, and it's authenticity is essential to Session 9's success. Anderson shoots his film wide, a la The Shining, with panning shots gliding from room to room or down a corridor. Anderson also makes good use of his montage imagery, filling them with random shots, which are all the more creepier, perhaps, because of their randomness. Peter Mullan as Gordon paints quite the portrait of his character: over the course of the film, Gordon's character shifts between sinister intensity and pathetic and crying, like a lost child. David Caruso's Phil is totally over-the-top, almost like a parody, but I can't imagine Caruso's acting in any other way. In any regard, Caruso's performance works as the whining Phil. Josh Lucas, as Hank, is perfectly annoying at times, but also his dialogue is often quite funny. Brendan Sexton's Jeff is just plain funny-looking. His character has a genuine fear of the dark, and in one of the film's best visual sequences, Jeff is literally being chased by the dark. Kudos, also to Sexton for his performance.
Finally, Brad Anderson did a splendid job directing Session 9, which he also co-wrote and edited. He shows a real artistic visual eye, which he's developed further with little-seen and wrongfully ignored The Machinist (2004) and Transsiberian (2008). He makes great use of audio with music by Climax Golden Twins, which is kind-of experimental and eccentric combined with traditional music, while odd screeches and humming tones fill the transitional sequences. Perhaps his best achievement in Session 9 are the session tapes: it really says something in a visual medium, when the artist is able to capture dread, through only the sound of characters' voices.
If I were to list the best horror films of this decade, today, then Session 9 would be a serious contender for number one. On that note, if you haven't seen this film, then make seeing Session 9 priority one.

"My colors, my colors...they run hot in my veins" are the opening lines by an unknown narrator, spoken over a blurry, brown-hued opening sequence, where a bound man is being stabbed by two, dressed in white. The film cuts to the view from a ferry, where young Stefano (
The village is quiet, as are the residents. Stefano goes to the local hotel, where he receives a strange and threatening phone call telling him to leave. Stefano meets an old friend, Antonio (Giulio Pizzirani), at the town's only restaurant. Antonio has discovered "the strangest story ever" about a "house with laughing windows." Antonio promises to tell Stefano all that he has learned, but he never gets the chance. One evening, frantically Antonio calls Stefano and asks to meet him in Stefano's hotel room. As Stefano arrives, Antonio is seen falling from the window, where behind the curtains, the shadow of someone lingers. With his friend's death and the mysterious circumstances around the church's fresco and its artist, Stefano is finally motivated to uncover the mystery at all costs.
Pupi Avati is by no means an Italian genre director, but The House of the Laughing Windows has quite a cult following by genre fans. Also with Zeder (1983) and Arcane Sorcerer (1996), Avati proves himself to be an extremely adept film maker in regards to creating an engrossing and intriguing mystery; an atmosphere of dread and foreboding; and visuals, both beautiful and horrifyingly mesmerizing. For example, subsequent to Antonio's death, Stefano must leave the hotel, because an important guest is arriving and that guest takes Stefano's room (which is revealed later to be untrue). Stefano is gratefully housed somewhere else, a villa in the countryside, where a decrepit, dying woman resides alone. Avati treats the viewer to a brilliant tracking sequence from Stefano's P.O.V. through an overgrown trail, and as the leaves scrape of the side of the camera, the villa is revealed in the daylight tinged in darkness and decay. The villa is also covered with bizarre and haunting frescoes, and at night, shadows make noises and unwelcome visitors come and go. The details of the remaining mystery should remain hidden, although I will say that it does end unpredictably and is quite satisfying.
Avati also proves himself to be quite adept at creating drama. The blossoming romance between Francesca and Stefano is a welcome addition, and the scenes between the two actors seem real and natural. One of the best characters to develop throughout The House of the Laughing Windows is Coppola, the driver for the mayor. At the onset of the film, I thought that he would be another peripheral character in the village; however, his character becomes increasingly important to the plot and to the drama. Gianni Cavina gives an excellent performance as Coppola (he also co-wrote the screenplay). Cavina conveys a lot of the sadness and emotion in the film, especially in an interesting scene, where he tells Stefano about his initial meeting with Legnani. Lino Capolicchio carries The House of the Laughing Windows very well, as he is able to perform with both a youthful innocence and a reckless, impulsive abandon. Francesca Marciano, as Francesca, is always captivating on screen. She is absolutely beautiful and her performance is pitch-perfect.
Pupi Avati's The House of the Laughing Windows, in my opinion, is equal to the best work of Mario Bava and Dario Argento in terms of cinematography (by
The Hard Way opens after the credit sequence and 

Henry Silva is no stranger to Italian cinema nor to playing a bad mofo on screen. Silva goes from stoic to intensely animated in a split-second. He's a fantastic villain with other notable like roles in Fernando di Leo's Manhunt (1972), Umberto Lenzi's Free Hand for a Tough Cop (1976), and Fabrizio de Angelis's Man Hunt (1984), for example. Handsome Miles O'Keeffe began as Tarzan in John Derek's Tarzan, the Ape Man (1981). No stranger to Italian cinema, like Silva, O'Keeffe appeared as Ator in the fantasy films, Joe D'Amato's Ator the Invincible (1982) and Ator the Invincible 2 (1984) and Alfonso Brescia's Iron Warrior (1987). He also appeared in Ruggero Deodato's post-apocalyptic The Lone Runner (1986) and Stelvio Massi's actioner, Hell's Heroes (1987), alongside Fred Williamson. O'Keeffe's true talent is also his career hindrance: his uncanny likeness to a young Clint Eastwood, from his look to his demeanor to his delivery. This likeness was okay for the Italian 80s films, but when he plays Count Dracula, for example, in Anthony Hickox's Waxwork (1988), his limited range is really shown. Nonetheless, O'Keeffe is a perfect hero in The Hard Way with one of his best performances. 
The Devil's Wedding Night opens with the camera chasing a young female through the forest at night. After taking a couple of twists and turns, she's toast for the unknown assailant. After a psychedelic credit sequence, the camera reveals bookish scholar, Karl Schiller (
The next sequence shows one of the Schillers on horseback, racing through the mountains. At a local inn in Transylvania, Franz arrives and requests a room. He asks about Castle Dracula and receives strange and quiet looks from the locals. The innkeeper's daughter shows Franz his room for the evening. As she is turning over his linens, she tells Franz that tomorrow night is the Night of the Virgin Moon. What's that? Every fifty years, after midsummer, five virgins are called to Castle Dracula. Franz shows the innkeeper's daughter his protective amulet and tells her not worry. Franz is such a kind fellow, he'll offer her some additional protection by taking care of her virginity for her. The following morning, Franz arrives at Castle Dracula and is greeted by the zombish Lara (
Oh, The Devil's Wedding Night goes on for the final two-thirds to be extremely predictable but also fun. Damon's Karl realizes that Franz has stole the amulet and comes to rescue him. Franz left the amulet at the inn, so he is totally vulnerable to the Countess's powers within the castle. The set-up with the legendary ring and the story of the five virgins on the Night of the Virgin Moon come to fruition. The Devil's Wedding Night's director, Luigi Batzella, is one of the true madmen of Italian genre cinema, alongside his cinematic brothers Rino di Silvestro (Red Light Girls (1974); Werewolf Woman (1976); and Hanna D (1984)) and Cesare Canevari (Mátalo (1970); The Nude Princess (1976); Gestapo's Last Orgy (1977); and Killing of the Flesh (1983)). Subsequent to The Devil's Wedding Night, Batzella would helm Blackmail (1974), a bizarre kidnapping tale about a hippie, played by Brigitte Skay, and, possibly his most well-known film, Nude for Satan (1974), before delivering his nasty, shower-inducing The Beast in Heat (1977). Batzella loves to fill his films with psychedelic and dream-like images, and Nude for Satan is representative and full of this type of imagery. Batzella also doesn't mind getting a little down and dirty. In The Devil's Wedding Night, Neri's the focus of a couple of dreamy sequences: in one she has the obligatory lesbian scene with Lara, who bathes her in blood, a la Bathory. In another with Karl, one sip of wine leads to uncontrollable laughter and the most bizarre audio and accompanying images. Needless to say, the Satanic finale is over the top and indulgent.
Finally, Mark Damon is a wonderful old-school American actor, who went abroad to work in Italy, like many others during the period. I first saw him in Roger Corman's The House of Usher (1960), alongside Vincent Price. He would appear as the titular character in the excellent western, Johnny Yuma, and give an over-the-top performance in Carlo Lizzani's Kill and Pray (1967). Today, Damon is a very successful Hollywood producer. Damon gives a terrific and campy performance alongside Neri.
The Devil's Wedding Night is the very definition of a guilty pleasure and it's a fun one to revisit every now and again. If anyone gets the chance to see it, forget it's about vampires and dive in and enjoy the mad silliness.

The film opens with title cards, introducing the viewer to Milan, June 1974, where a driver is on the freeway. He pumps the brakes a few times and realizes that they are not working and soon crashes. The media reports that the driver is an army major, who had an unfortunate accident. Rome, August, 1974: two thugs break into an office and assault an old man. They shoot him in the head and place the gun in the dead man's hand. The media reports that the old man was a colonel and the death was by suicide. Florence-Bologna Railway lines, September, 1974 shows unknown men place an incapacitated man on the railway tracks. In a brutal sequence, the train speeds by and decapitates him. The newspapers reveal the identity of the victim as an army general and a police inquiry is begun.
Salvatore Quirotie is the fourth homicide of the film, found in his wealthy villa, from a blunt attack to the skull with an iron poker. Inspector Solmi (Merenda) and District Attorney Nanino (
Ferrer's Nanino is ready to indict Juliana, as her suicide attempt is a clear admission of guilt. Solmi thinks otherwise, as he believes a woman is incapable of generating enough power to bash a man's skull in. Solmi tests this theory with his quick-witted, sharp, and beautiful journalist girlfriend, Maria (
By the time Sergio Martino directed Silent Action, he had already filmed all of his gialli (The Strange Vice of Mrs. Wardh (1971); Case of the Scorpion's Tail (1971); All the Colors of the Dark (1972); Your Vice Is a Locked Room and Only I Have the Key (1972); and Torso (1973)), for which he is much admired and loved by genre fans. Although Dario Argento would release Deep Red (1975) in the same year, the giallo was pretty much dead as a genre. Argento would become really a genre unto himself, and Martino would move into other genres, especially two of the more popular: sex comedies and crime flicks. Martino previously filmed Violent Professionals (1973), also with Luc Merenda, which is really more representative of the period's crime cinema: its subject is organized crime, where the criminals are machine-gun toting badasses and the police officers prefer to instigate interrogation with the back of their right hand. Car and motorcycle chases are obligatory and expected. Silent Action doesn't fit neatly into that category, as it takes as its premise a homicide investigation, which is a subject suited better for amateur sleuths in the giallo. As such, Silent Action plays like a hybrid of the crime and giallo genre to excellent effect. 
Perhaps the background of Silent Action's talented screenwriters, 
Anyway, bad jokes aside, Top Line is about a writer, Ted Angelo (Franco Nero), who's destitute and drunk, living in Colombia. His publisher and ex-wife, Maureen De Havilland (
After the first act of Top Line, a lot of guests show up at the party: the CIA, the KGB, a cyborg, Angelo's ex-wife, and of course, aliens. Ted Angelo's not having a very good time while uncovering a vast world-wide conspiracy, but Franco Nero is obviously having a splendid time in his role. After exiting the cave, Angelo comes back to his hotel, where he is greeted by two unwelcome guests, who have just finished rummaging his room. An exciting foot-chase sequence plays out, with Kennedy's Holzmann leading the pursuit. Angelo barely escapes into the arms of Professor Kintero's assistant, June (

Encounters In The Deep begins with a voice-over and an image montage of natural disasters. The voice-over introduces the theme of UFOs and does not dispute their existence. The only issue of dispute is their origin: Earth or outer space? A chronicle of history is presented of unexplained disappearances, explosions, and sightings. The film cuts to a sequence presumably aboard a naval ship, where the sailors are talking about fear and bad dreams: there's something in these waters, and then all of the sudden, dreaded green light, bubbling up from out of the ocean, attacks the ship with accompanying throbbing audio. Encounters cuts once again to a lovely beach setting to introduce beautiful Mary (
Encounters In The Deep runs for eighty minutes and Ricci spends almost the first half of it with sputtering beginnings and set-up. The paint-by-numbers plot of Encounters becomes a Pollock painting of padding. Like The Shark's Cave, Ricci does not show any real enthusiasm through the exposition. It's the underwater scenes with the sharks and aliens where Ricci shines, but the viewer is going to have to wade quite a bit before getting to those scenes. Gianni Garko appears as Mike on the ship and he does a few tricks with his canine. This expedition still appears more like a pleasure cruise, as Ricci attempts to channel the camaraderie vibe of Shaw, Scheider, and Dreyfuss in Jaws. Peters, over dinner, relates his theory again, as a sort-of low-brow Lovecraft tale: aliens visited the Earth millions of years ago and never left. They went underwater and are responsible for a lot of the recent disappearances. How about the water, fellas? Want to strap on some of that scuba gear and play with the sharks?
Unfortunately, no. Andres Garcia is an extremely handsome man and looks like a runway model in his bikini briefs. Garko puts on a pair of dainty, black bikini briefs, but not even a nibble at the toes by the sharks at these two divers happens. The sharks must have been bored to tears, as well. Mike does mysteriously pass out under the water and comes back on board a little bit changed. Garko manages to stoically sleepwalk through the rest of the film. Peter, Scott, and Ronnie don the scuba gear and go down for an investigation. Who the eff is Ronnie? Ronnie is the auxiliary character who doesn't come back. Peters finds a rock below and says it's full of plutonium. He hands the rock to Garcia who 
Encounters goes on to have a relatively long