Sergio Martino's Morte sospetta di una minorenne (Suspected Death of a Minor) (1975)

It was the time when lots of films of the action/poliziesco genre were produced in Italy. I already had several big successes with my films, e.g. Violent Professionals. And after a short break during which I shot some movies of other genres I shot this film whose original title was "Milano violenta." "Milano violenta"--when was the film shot?--in 1976, 1977 or was it 1975?--the genre was nothing new anymore and it was my very last poliziesco. Before it was released, however, the distributor Titanus changed its title from "Milano violenta" to "Morte sospetta di una minorenne," because they feared that the film, since the genre was already past its peak wouldn't be very successful. But that was a huge mistake because only a short time later, a film was released that was called Roma violenta or Violent Rome and which was a big hit. That shows the intuition of the distributors wasn't always the best...The title was misleading because with "Morte sospetta di una minorenne" the audience expected an erotic touch, which just wasn't there, since it wasn't an erotic film. I think the attempt to attract the audience with a title that deviated from the poliziesco genre, led to a lesser success...Consequently, the movie lured people into the cinema who actually didn't want to see it.

"Now take your hands off my butt, asshole, and bring me to the exit." The hands from this line belong to Paolo (Claudio Cassinelli), and the butt belongs to Marisa (Patrizia Castaldi); and they are a dancing couple. Paolo is flirting with pretty Marisa and asks for a dance; and Marisa reluctantly agrees, because she is scared of the mirrored-sunglassed party guest who has taken an intense infatuation with her. Marisa bolts from the party, knocking Paolo's eyeglasses from his head, and rushes to safety within a seedy boardinghouse. She is killed, and after the police discover her corpse, two police officers chat about the case outside of a cafe. Paolo, playing a game of pinball, overhears the two police officers and decides to begin an investigation, himself, of Marisa's murder.Since there was a lack of actors those days who represented the poliziesco genre except for Giuliano Gemma, Franco Nero and few others maybe--I had the idea to cast Claudio Cassinelli who had shot several movies to that date but no poliziescos. He was an actor who didn't fit the current beau ideal but who embodied a certain sympathy and who was very believable. Claudio was a very versatile and good actor who, in my opinion fit himself into the role very well. I remember that he was in great shape, and when I watch the film today I can't see any failing in his performance or a non-identification with his character. In the following years, we shot several films of other genres together and therefore I consider him as a friend who became very dear to my heart--unfortunately he passed away--and who I hold in high regard especially from a human factor standpoint and because of his delicacy of feeling.Cassinelli as Paolo is the biggest attraction of Morte sospetta di una minorenne (1975). In a representative sequence of events, Paolo arranges a meeting with a young prostitute (Barbara Magnolfi) at a hotel in order to uncover the source of the prostitution racket. Paolo plays it cool, but she's even cooler and blows him off. With the help of his young associate, Cassinelli's Paolo is able to follow the young woman through the city to a dilapidated tenement across town. In a bolder move, Paolo walks directly through its front door and is forced into a violent confrontation with its inhabitant. The confrontation does not go well, but Paolo regains his composure and patiently waits at the building. His patience is rewarded with a big score and huge lead in his investigation. The sequence of the narrative events are familiar, yet its Cassinelli who is unique. His character lacks the complete tough-guy quality of the typical poliziesco and also the obsession of the amateur sleuth of any giallo. There is a lot more humility to his character. Martino has Paolo wear eyeglasses in Morte sospetta di una minorenne, and they become his signature. Whenever Paolo gets into an intense situation or when a character remarks upon his eyeglasses, these motifs are subtle symbols of Paolo. Cassinelli's performance follows suit: his character is certainly unorthodox and quirky but very sympathetic. Despite a strong narrative (another well-written script by Martino and Ernesto Gastaldi) in Morte sospetta di una minorenne, it is Cassinelli's performance which stands out.Adrian Luther-Smith, author of Blood and Black Lace: The Definitive Guide to Italian Sex and Horror Movies, writes:

Too Young To Die [English title for Morte sospetta di una minorenne] is an odd combination: part police thriller, part giallo, and part comedy. Its cynical central theme--teenage girls being sexually exploited by [spoilers edited]--was a background motif for several gialli. But rather than merely providing the basis for a number of sleaze scenes (some brief nudity) and violent deaths (two of which are gratifyingly nasty), the exploitative elements are intertwined with the unorthodox enquiries being undertaken by Cassinelli [spoilers edited]. Had the film remained a cop/giallo thriller hybrid it might have found an audience but because Gastaldi's script audaciously attempts to incorporate humour it fails to satisfy fans of any individual genre. The comedy works well during a high-speed car chase but seems out of place elsewhere. Thankfully, it's dispensed with in the later scenes which include a gun battle on a rollercoaster, the penultimate rooftop encounter between [spoilers edited]. When providing lightweight accompaniment to the comic episodes, [Luciano] Michelini's score imitates Gaslini's Deep Red opus. (p. 120, Stray Cat Publishing Ltd., England, 1999.)

It is really Cassinelli's performance and character within Morte sospetta di una minorenne which does not fit within either strictly a poliziesco or a giallo. There are giallo elements within the film, primarily the murder scenes: these are not prominent yet are very evocative of Argento's Profondo rosso (1975) (the scenes are also less intricate and orchestrated). During Marisa's murder, the viewer gets treated to a loving shot of the killer holding his knife, and Martino shows the blade in close-up (with the Argento signature "flash" of the blade). Another murder in the film is eerily similar to a famous one with in Profondo rosso. Sergio Martino in his interview included as a supplement on the Region 2 DVD from Sazuma (from where the first paragraph and third paragraph are taken and are direct quotes) never refers to his film as a giallo and always as a poliziesco (and offers his alternative theory to Luther-Smith as to why the film did not find a strong audience base). I agree with Martino that it is a poliziesco (and placing it in a specific category, however, is not really necessary in my opinion). Morte sospetta di una minorenne is an obscure film but really shows Martino's talent again and showcases how fine of an actor that Cassinelli truly was. Like most of Martino's cinema, it is irreverent and satisfying for those seeking something different from the traditional.

Sergio Martino's Torso (I corpi presentano tracce di violenza carnale) (1973)

I corpi presentano tracce di violenza carnale (Torso) (1973), directed by Sergio Martino, contains some bold artistic choices by its creative collaborators.
First, who is the main character? There are only two characters within Torso who give a persuasive answer to this question: Jane, portrayed by Suzy Kendall, and Dani, played by Tina Aumont. For the viewer who has seen Torso subsequent to viewing slasher films, such as John Carpenter's Halloween (1978) and its progeny, then intuitively, Jane is the main character. She holds a very iconic position within the third act. However, if Torso is viewed as a mystery or more specifically, a giallo (which its first half certainly appears to be), then Dani is the main character. Dani is the one character who has seen the mysterious killer within the film, and the killer knows it. Hence, the viewer intuitively knows that Dani is the next prospective victim for the killer. In the most uninteresting way, minutes on screen can determine who is the main character, and even a by a few seconds, the viewer can determine its protagonist. Even if Torso does not have a main character, it is not a film driven by an ensemble cast. Some characters are red herrings for the mystery, some are eye candy, and some serve plot devices, such as a victim for a brutal killing, for example. By and far, Torso is a plot-driven film, rendered creatively in sequences with different characters, like a collage.
One of the boldest and most creative moves by Martino and company within Torso occurs at the halfway mark in its violent shift in setting. The expansive setting within the city, which houses the university where Jane and Dani attend, is removed to a villa secluded atop a hill, overlooking a small village below. This one change in setting completely fractures the narrative of the film. The isolated villa with Dani and her two friends, Ursula (Carla Brait) and Katia (Angela Covello), kills any of the mystery within Torso. The narrative becomes focused on this small group of characters at the setting, and the viewer knows as these characters unwind and relax (the narrative also unwinds and relaxes), the more likely they are to become victims of the killer. To be fair, it is fairly obvious to identify the killer by deduction right before the beginning of the third act, so it did not seem that Martino nor his co-screenwriter, Ernesto Gastaldi, really saw this fracture in the narrative as a deficiency in their plot. By the way, when the killer's identity is revealed and in the classic moment where the killer reveals his/her motive, it is truly irrelevant to whom the killer is revealing.Torso has an interesting history. Adrian Luther Smith, author of Blood and Black Lace: The Definitive Guide to Italian Sex and Horror Movies, writes: "The American release proved to be extremely popular on the drive-in circuit and along with Bava's A Bay of Blood probably had a significant part to play in the development of the stalk 'n' slash genre." (p.120, Stray Cat Publishing Ltd., England, 1999.) Craig Ledbetter, editor of European Trash Cinema, writes, "Like most Americans, I first saw this on the lower half of a double-bill with The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. While the former went on to fame and fortune, poor Torso still gets no respect. The ironical thing is that "Society" would have you believe that TCM was the goriest of the two, NOT!" (European Trash Cinema, Vol. 2, No. 6, Kingwood, TX, 1992.) The authors of Violent Italy, Daniel Dellamorte and Tobias Petterson, write: "His [Martino's] last giallo, Torso, is mostly remembered for its brutality. None of the previous leading actors [from his previous gialli] take part in this film and it is obvious that Martino had lost interest in the genre at this point. The film lacks the flair and visual style that is so evident in his previous films, and he left the genre for other projects." (p.43, Tamara Press, Malmo, Sweden, 2002.) (Interestingly, the Violent Italy authors note that the giallo peaked in 1972 with twenty two released in theatres in Italy (p.39). According to the IMDb, Torso was released in Italy during the first week of 1973.)
If Torso is truly influential upon the subsequent slasher genre, then it is not solely because of its brutality but also its boldness and creativity. As to whether its boldness and creativity was borne from hearing the death knell of a dying genre and attempting to be as shocking and provocative as possible to draw in the genre's last viewers is unknown. Torso is, however, a terrific film and like a lot of Martino's cinema, it is beautifully and elegantly photographed (by Giancarlo Ferrando) and populated with beautiful people. By far not a shy film, Torso is very provocative and very playful. In a wonderfully lurid sequence, Carol, friend and classmate to Jane and Dani, portrayed by Conchita Airoldi, upon hearing of the murder of her friend, becomes overwhelmed with both fear and grief. She takes a ride from the open-air piazza at the university with two friends to a dingy den somewhere in the city to get high. Carol wants some comfort; her two friends want to sleep with her; and Martino has a beautiful and scantily-clad woman dancing alone in the center of the den. After a fairly bold composition of the woman dancing, Carol tires of her two friends' fondling and she bolts from the den. Martino gets a laugh from the viewer when one of Carol's shunned suitors stupidly crashes his motorbike into the mud. Poor Carol, both dejected and disoriented, continues into the ash-colored and mud-soaked forest alone, where Martino delivers one of his most effective atmospheric sequences. It becomes quite brutal as well. Like most of Torso, there is no consistency in tone to the sequence, but this lack of consistency is not borne from carelessness but playfulness. Torso is daring, perhaps in its creative impetus but definitely in its execution. A personal favorite. Ernesto Gastaldi's contribution cannot be overstated: his screenplay is essential to Torso's success. Gastaldi's body of work is astounding, and he deserves wider praise in subsequent entries. The music by Guido and Maurizio De Angelis is an excellent accompaniment.

Sergio Martino's Silent Action (1975)

There is something nostalgic and almost ancient about relatively recent cinema involving police work, or in the case of Sergio Martino's Silent Action (1975), polizia work. Technology has grown rapidly in the thirty-four years since Silent Action, and cinema, especially television, has been quick to seize upon it in its depiction of "modern" police work: sophisticated evidence-gathering gadgets, cutting-edge medical and autopsy techniques, and the use (and often overuse) of large, internet-fuelled databanks. While culturally this depiction of police work might seem more credible and hence, more intriguing, I personally find it so cinematically unsatisfying. Perhaps I'm in the minority but I enjoy watching police officers use intuition as their primary tool; hit the street and gather clues in their polyester suits and turtlenecks; and make mistakes to get led astray and then get a break for a breakthrough in the case. Luc Merenda is from that class of police officers and he is on the case as Inspector Solmi in one of Sergio Martino's lesser-seen films.

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 (Mel Ferrer) are assigned to the case. The crime scene yields little in the way of clues: long brown hair is found on a brush in the bathroom (obviously, says Solmi, a woman was here), and the police take Quirotie's personal book of phone numbers. The caretaker of the villa reveals that a woman was seen leaving the home on the night that Quirotie was murdered. Quirotie was a bachelor, who worked in "gadgets, like a master electrician." Solmi finds the number for a high-class madame in Quirotie's book, and he visits her at her bordello. Going from room to room, Solmi threatens to shut her operation down, unless she gives the name of the prostitute who visited Quirotie. The madame confesses and names the prostitute: La Polisina. Solmi and his partner arrive at the prostitute's apartment and ring the doorbell. The door explodes (!), as toxic gas flies out of the room. La Polisina, ne Juliana, lies on the floor of the kitchen, unconscious with her wrists slit.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 (Delia Boccardo) on a pile of melons, Gallagher-style. Solmi cannot discern Juliana having a clear motive for Quirotie's murder and believes that this case is about something much deeper. Merenda's Solmi is quite correct as one of the most intricate and well-structured plots plays out. I scribbled nearly eight pages of notes while viewing Silent Action, keeping tabs on all the characters who are introduced and the various twists and turns that take place. 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, Massimo Felisatti, Fabio Pittorru, Gianfranco Couyoumdjian, and Martino contributed to the mix of crime and giallo. Felisatti had previously penned Emilio Miraglia's The Night Evelyn Came Out of the Grave (1972) and the spectacular and nasty, young thugs crime flick Violence for Kicks (1975), which he also co-directed with Sergio Grieco. Felisatti would also contribute to the script for Andrea Bianchi's Strip Nude for Your Killer and another excellent crime/giallo hybrid, Mario Caiano's The Maniac Responsible, both released in 1975. Fabio Pittorru collaborated with Felisatti on The Night Evelyn Came Out of the Grave and The Maniac Responsible. Prior to Silent Action, Pittorru contributed to the screenplay of Emilio Miraglia's The Red Queen Kills 7 Times (1972) and Ruggero Deodato's Wave of Lust (1975). Silent Action was Gianfranco Couydoumdjian's first screenplay. He would later become notable as a producer. As each screenwriter had his hand in often both, or multiple genres, it was inevitable that there would be a conscious or subconscious crossover. Italian genre cinema was going through a transitional period, and in some ways, Silent Action is representative of the transition.

In a break-in sequence during Silent Action, Martino films it from the intruder's subjective P.O.V., reminiscent of his previous gialli films, especially Torso. A fairly intense car chase also occurs, where a cop on a motorcycle stops Solmi and his suspect and fires his gun, killing the suspect and setting off the chase. The pacing of Silent Action is fantastic: the script has little filler. The film moves with Solmi and his police cohorts as they move through the investigation towards the end. Merenda's not one of the greatest actors, but he's occasionally animated and quite often focused in Silent Action with his stoic presence. Tomas Milian gives a typical, yet very good, brooding and quiet performance in a small but integral role. Ferrer and Boccardo give good performances, also, in their supporting roles. Overall, Silent Action is a tight mystery, occasionally punctuated by some intense action sequences, and very much well worth seeing for genre fans.

Other notable giallo/crime hybrids are Massimo Dallamano's What Have They Done To Your Daughters (1974), The Maniac Responsible, Martino's The Suspicious Death of a Minor (1975), and Alberto de Martino's Blazing Magnum (1976). While Silent Action probably won't satisfy pure fans of polizia films nor pure giallo fans, it will be intriguing and interesting for fans, like me, who absolutely love genre cinema made in Italy during the 70s.

Sergio Martino's Beyond Kilimanjaro, Across the River of Blood (1990)

Richard Hatch is Tony La Palma and he's hiding out in Africa. He doesn't like the ivory poachers and helps a young boy who's been orphaned after his parents die of leprosy. He's also sleeping with casino-lounge singer, Giulia (Eleonora Brigliadori), another expatriate, who loves La Palma, although she doesn't know much about his past. That is until baddie David Brandon as Jagger appears on the scene--he knows about La Palma's past and is about to disrupt the party.With more continent hopping than Crocodile Dundee (1986), the legendary Sergio Martino delivers a film with a terrific title, Beyond Kilimanjaro, Across the River of Blood (1990).Other than that, this one's terrible.

Beyond Kilimanjaro, Across the River of Blood had its origin in a story by Sergio's brother, the legendary Luciano Martino, who produced not only many of Sergio's most notable films of 70s Italian genre cinema (The Strange Vice of Mrs. Wardh (1971); All the Colors of the Dark (1972); Your Vice Is a Locked Room and Only I Have the Key (1972); and Violent Professionals (1973)) but a number of other notable Italian genre films (Romolo Guerrieri's The Sweet Body of Deborah (1968); Umberto Lenzi's So Sweet... So Perverse (1969); Duccio Tessari's Tony Arzenta (1973); and Umberto Lenzi's Almost Human (1974)). Sergio had also directed a couple of wonderful 80s low-budget films, the post-apocalyptic 2019: After the Fall of New York (1983), with Michael Sopkiw, and Terminator-riff, Hands of Steel (1986), starring Daniel Greene, who also appears in Kilimanjaro.


The most apt word to describe this film is sputtering: Kilimanjaro starts up, makes a lot of noise, surges forward a little bit, dies, and then repeats. For example, Jagger blackmails Giulia for fifty-thousand dollars or he'll reveal La Palma's whereabouts to the wrong people. Giulia hooks up with another expatriate, an ex-gambler from Las Vegas hiding out in Africa, who works in the casino, and the two conspire and come up with the money. Giulia pays Jagger. Of course, Jagger doesn't go away and the small episode is only a segue way to another one, the flashback to La Palma's past.


Richard Hatch spent the majority of the 70s and 80s in American television, his most notable role being Captain Apollo in Battlestar Galactica. He bears a strong resemblence to Tim Matheson. Eleonora Brigliadori's and David Brandon's subsequent work to Kilimanjaro, for both, has been in European television. Brigliadori had made a previous appearance in Lucio Fulci's The New Gladiators (1984) and Brandon had previously appeared in Lamberto Bava's Until Death (1987) and Delirium (1987). He would make a very notable appearance as the scummy stage-director in Michele Soavi's wonderful Stagefright (1987). Hatch, Brigliadori, and Brandon give competent performances with the shallow script. There's no real character development, and it seemed as if each got into character on the morning of each day of shooting.La Palma's past is in the Mafia, and the film flies to New York to introduce James Mitchum, mafia-boss Frank, and a brief appearance from Luigi Pistilli. Mitchum, son of Robert, looks more like his father than his brother, Christopher, and Mitchum had previously shot-up the screen in Tonino Ricci's tons-of-fun, jungle-actioner Raiders of the Magic Ivory (1988). Pistilli is a familiar face in Italian genre cinema, highlights being roles in Mario Bava's Twitch of the Death Nerve (1971) and Your Vice Is a Locked Room and Only I Have the Key. La Palma escapes the mafia war on the streets of New York to Africa.
Cut to Rome. The mafia war ain't over. Frank can't do a whole lot for La Palma. Back to Africa and enter mafia hitman, Jake (Daniel Greene). Soft-spoken, muscle-bound Greene who tore up the screen in Hands of Steel can't save this one. Jake's entrance is about halfway through the film and like the rest of it, it heats up for a minute or two, especially the scenes with Greene, but it continues to fall flat. Greene made notable appearances in Pierluigi Ciriaci's Soldier of Fortune (1987) and the elusive Hammerhead (1987) by Enzo G. Castellari. His most recent work is small appearances in almost every Farrelly Brothers film. Go figure.A lot of talent lies dead in the water in this one. Beyond Kilimanjaro, Across the River of Blood lacks the cool sleazy 70s vibe and the ridiculous excessive 80s vibe of Italian genre cinema. Kilimanjaro doesn't know what it wants to be, where it wants to go, and what it wants the viewer to see. This one is obscure and, rarely, rightfully so.