Il rosso segno della follia

It's sort of like Psycho, only not, and it's sort of like any number of other serial-killer movies, except you know who the bad guy is from literally the first scene. But we don't watch Mario Bava movies for the intricate plots or, as in this case, for the strong acting. We watch them for the grisly visuals! Man's a maestro of mayhem when it comes to presenting blood. Very stylish movie, very well shot. Forsyth is positively wooden, though.

Interesting, complex look at a man who must kill young brides in order to unlock the secret of who killed his own mother. With each hacked bride, the main character of Harrington sees more and more of his terrible childhood memory when he saw his own mother axed. The acting in this film is nothing terribly special, nor is the story, but Bava'a direction is a visual treasure to behold. As always, he makes the most he can with the camera lens. Some of the shots are inspiring as Bava directs our attention through small orifices sometimes like a small window. His use of a room with mannequins is very effective too. Bava even has fun with his little joke of having Harrington watching Bava's own Black Sabbath on television when having just killed his wife he is visited by the police. Style and visual artistry ripen all around only to be harvested by Bava's gluttonous camera lens. The plot, although missing huge pieces of coherence and logic, is fairly well-crafted. The acting is adequate. I particularly liked the actress that played Harrington's vitriolic wife and the character of the police inspector.The sense of the sixties and fanciful colours pervade almost every scene, and the soundtrack is very suitable to this material. For some horror fans, the film may seem somewhat slow, but it kept my interest throughout.

John Harrington runs a model agency specialising in bride gowns. He likes model railways and occasionally dressing up as a bride. The latter means he's in killer mode doing what he must do or, as he puts it, 'continue to wield the cleaver' until his 'issues' are resolved. The title suggests a similarity to Leonard Kastle's The Honeymoon Killers but in reality the films are far apart. Kastle's film is gritty, almost documentary-like and contains the massive presence of Shirley Stoler, while Bava opts for a style flamboyant even by giallo standards and has a handsome cast to match.

The spirit of Psycho looms large, though Bava's lightness of touch offsets the potentially gruesome subject matter - there's a very funny scene in a kitsch disco (with terrific music) where the cleaver wielder is thrown out for suggesting a threesome involving one of the dancers and his dead wife. It's true to say that it's style over substance, but that's the point

A note: Was this movie ever called in English HATCHET FOR A HONEYMOON, rather than the awkward HATCHET FOR THE HONEYMOON? I seem to recall this from a Leonard Maltin book circa 1978. Or am I as cracked as Bava's protagonist?

For my money, this is primo vintage Bava--which is to say Dario Argento in top hat and tails, Jess Franco with a finishing-school diploma, or, to look at the glass as half empty, Richard Lester after three hits of dirty windowpane acid.

To top this voiceover narration, you'd have to go either to BARRY LYNDON or, on the other hand, MASSACRE MAFIA STYLE: "My name is John Harrington. I'm thirty years old. I am a paranoiac. Paranoiac! What a marvellous world. So delicate. And full of possibilities. The fact is, I'm completely mad." And so is Bava's odyssey through the crazy-straw-shaped brain of J. Harrington, Esq., a hunky sociopath whose sexual fires are only stoked by burying a hatchet in the flesh of virginal-looking brides in their white-veiled drag--and, when they have the ill fortune to be there, their bridegrooms.

The hyper-lusciosity of Bava's style suggests a Bertolucci blissfully unconcerned with agrarian collectivism. Mate that rococo with Nicolas Roeg's brand of kaleidoscopus maximus and you have an inkling of what Signior Mario is up to. Note to Greil Marcus: as a sequel to "Lipstick Traces," how about a book tracing the parallel histories of canonical surrealism (Bunuel-Dali-Aragon-Bataille) and Italian horror of the seventies?

Mario Bava giallo about a guy who runs a wedding dress design and manufacturing company in Paris - whilst having a sideline in murdering young brides whilst they're wearing their wedding dresses. That's not a spoiler; unlike most gialli, in this one we know who the killer is right from the start. The mystery is more involved with his motivation. We know that each killing helps him piece together some long-forgotten childhood trauma, and that he's compelled to keep killing until he's got the whole picture - but exactly what that trauma is we don't know until the end. Canadian actor Stephen Forsyth plays the killer, who in character feels like a cross between Norman Bates and Patrick Bateman, whilst looking like a cross between Clint Eastwood and Timothy Dalton (Forsyth only made 10 movies for some reason, of which this was his last). It's a bit lighter on blood than you'd expect from the title, and there aren't too many onscreen kills. But it does have a real switch-up halfway through when it becomes a ghost story! It's not as gripping as some of Bava's stuff, but it's still fun. 6.5/10.