La casa dalle finestre che ridono

Pupi Avati's 'The House With Laughing Windows' follows the character of Stefano, a painter who travels to a remote Italian village on a job to restore an unfinished painting depicting the persecution of St. Sebastian (who was a real Saint, by the way, only he was actually killed by arrows being shot into him, not by being stabbed with knives like the painting in the movie portrays). Upon arriving in the village, Stefano discovers that there is a lot more behind the mystery of the painting than he originally thought, and that someone will stop at nothing to make sure that Stefano does not complete the painting, further revealing the true mystery behind the town's bizarre secrets.

The movie opens with graphic, sepia toned imagery of a man being tortured in the exact same way as St. Sebastian is depicted in the painting. The genuinely creepy piano music that plays during the opening just further sets the unsettling mood for the mystery that lies ahead. The opening credits lead one to believe that the film is an all out blood bath, however, this is not the case. In fact, the most violently unsettling part of the film is the opening, that's not to say that the rest of the film doesn't contain violence, it just doesn't exist on the same level or extreme as the opening.

The rest of the film is a rather competent mystery done in true giallo fashion, and will keep you wondering what's going to happen next until the climactic finale. There are a few story elements in this movie that were either unexplained or not elaborated on, but I don't know if going as far as to call these incidents 'plot holes' would be completely correct. For instance, there is a girl Stefano is seeing at the beginning who just leaves town (disappears?) without a word. This had me thinking the whole movie that she was murdered and that her body would turn up at some point, when in fact you find out later in the film that she just simply left town, and was replaced by Stefano's next love interest, Francesca.

The movie is pretty tame in comparison to many giallo flicks like 'Tenebrae' or 'The New York Ripper', but the twists and turns should interest most fans of this sub-genre. Also, unlike most giallos, the film contains only a brief bit of nudity, but there is a scene where a woman is being forcefully molested that seems more exploitative than most scenes depicting nudity.

All in all I must say I was surprised at the quality of movie I saw. Not only was it a surprise that I haven't heard of this movie sooner, but it was also amongst some of the better plot driven giallo films I have personally seen. This movie was well paced, consisted of great camera-work and scenery, had great acting (to a non-speaker of Italian, anyway), and had a truly creepy and original plot. I recommend this film to anyone that is really into the Italian giallo sub-genre, as it may not hold the interest of the casual horror movie fan.

'No nudity and very little gore, and consequently, no suspense'. Quite apart from not knowing how commas work, the previous reviewer also appears to have been off sick from Idiot Film School the day they covered 'Suspense'.

This is a curiosity, sure, and won't be to everyone's taste, but I wouldn't dismiss it as a potboiler because it doesn't reach the dizzy artistic heights of Nightmare on Elm Street IV. The film effectively builds up a sense of dread through the central character's isolation and growing unease in a bleak village surrounded by featureless salt marshes. The supporting cast are thoroughly creepy from the garrulous dwarf mayor through to the pale beauty who mysteriously hooks up with the hero but who seems to know more than she is letting on. There are some touches of unsettling imagery that evoke David Lynch; the snails in the fridge, the blood red car and motorcycle and the house of the laughing windows itself. The camera-work adds to the whole, peering from darkened rooms and from behind creaking shutters - there is rarely a moment when you feel the hero is safe.

Sharing some of the mood of Don't Look Now (as indicated by Barry Norman below), the film also bears comparison with The Wicker Man, dealing with the same theme of an innocent slowly discovering the horrifying secrets of a community consumed by evil.

*Minor plot details, no actual spoilers*

Antonio, recently reacquainted with his friend Stefano who has come to renovate a fresco in the local church depicting the Martyrdom of St Sebastian, has discovered something he shouldn't. Something is rotten in the Italian backwater, but before he can divulge his suspicions he finds himself on the wrong side of a top floor window and plummets to his death while a shadow lurks behind the curtains. So far, so giallo. The gruesome work of art is apparently key to uncovering some secret harboured by the town's residents, so the bulk of the film is then devoted to delving into the bloody back-story of the deceased Artist and his two insane sisters. The main problem here is that the film finds the central mystery much more mysterious than it actually is, and doesn't seem to realise it's given most of the details away. As the Painter's story unfolds - murky as it is - the important stuff (that the gruesome acts depicted in the artist's work might be real) is either implied by the promotional blurb, the opening credits sequence or already anticipated by our over-active imaginations.

What the film sorely needs in the absence of any real action is some clarification as to what it is we're actually supposed to be intrigued by while we wait for the body count to rise. There is a throwaway line later in the film which goes a long way to informing the story as a whole, and cements in our minds the very real danger at hand, but it comes a bit late in the day. Used earlier it would have given Stefano's amateur sleuthing some much needed impetus (Antonio's is too mundane and isolated a death and seems forgotten almost immediately). What lies at the heart of the film then, once the back-story has been told (and after a lot of to-ing and fro-ing) is Stefano's failure to deduce the identity of the sisters and the consequences therein. So everything depends on the final reveal. These are obviously characters we've already met - that's how these things work - but a real rapport needed to be established between Stefano and the peripheral players to give the nature of the revelation (which has been sketchily sign-posted) a much greater emotional punch when it comes. As a result the effect is diluted. Ultimately the biggest mystery is why the town is keeping its secrets in the first place.

On the plus side, coupled with the brooding atmospherics, it is lovely to look at. The camera work isn't overly elaborate but understated works in the film's favour. There are some nice shots - one in particular where Stefano walks round the side of a house with his back to it, so we discover, a moment before he does, that the title isn't simply a metaphor. A palette of greys and smoky blues blends with the thin winter light, with sparing splashes of crimson and orange ochre (emulating the look of Hitchcock's Frenzy). The artist's monologue which accompanies a retrospective sepia-tinged slaughter during the opening credits and used again later on is effectively lurid (you'll need a shower afterwards, followed by dinner and flowers) and the full extent of one haunted local's involvement with the murderous trio some thirty-odd years earlier lends the film some much needed emotional resonance. Most of all Avati deserves credit for the St Sebastian reference. It seems a pretty innocuous stylistic choice, but there is a significance here which, though not essential, provides one of the true, subtle revelations of the entire film. Provided you put two and two together and know your saints.

The House with Laughing Windows was for so long the 'lost giallo' and consequently it seems a bit of giallo envy has bolstered its reputation as a forgotten masterpiece. In terms of pure film-making that's short of the mark. There are too many uneven moments. Characters disappear ominously, then reappear without acknowledgement. Things go bump in the night which we discover second hand rather than getting to witness, and there's a curious did they/didn't they? (have it off) tryst between Stefano and the town's departing school teacher (if they did he apparently likes to keep not only his socks on but his entire dapper three-piece). That isn't to say it's a total bomb by any means either. It depends how invested you find yourself in the Painter's story, and to some extent how prepared you are to suspend disbelief. If you approach with expectations suitably tempered it'll probably do the business. Just sit back and soak up the quietly unsettling atmosphere without thinking too much, but be warned, a great time is not assured.

"The House With Laughing Windows" is a very European film. Unlike the gialli of, say, Argento, this film is not 'Americanized' at all. It reminds me more of films like "Don't Torture a Duckling" in that it takes place out in a small town in the Italian countryside. It adds to the ambiance and I really like that.

The plot is very slow-moving. I'm not even sure if I'd call this film a giallo, but reading other reviews on here, it seems that it is in fact classified as such. It was hard for me to watch this for the first hour or so. I was wondering when it was going to pick up. Not many people get killed. But, I stuck with it and I recommend doing so. If you can stick with it, the ending is freakin' awesome. I was shocked by it; it really delivers. And it gets nice and bloody too. I had no idea who the killer was, and by the time I found out, my head was spinning from the progression of the final few scenes. It ends abruptly and it feels great. It more than made up for the sluggishness of the first 2/3 of the film. It's not unlike many of the newer Asian films in that regard: it moves very slow but the last few minutes are like a twisting train wreck.

In short, I recommend this film to those of you who have patience and enjoy Italian horror.

8 out of 10, kids.

Right from the opening credits we know that we are in for something a bit different. An ensnared man is repeatedly stabbed by unknown assailants. The scene is shot in a series of close-ups in a fuzzy monochrome. Simultaneously, a male voice narrates weird musings about his 'colours' and how they run through his veins. It's a standout opening that promises something a bit odd.

Directly after this, we are introduced to the central character, Stefano an art restorer, who is travelling by boat to a remote south Italian community. He is met at the quayside by the mayor Solmi, a midget who resembles a squashed John Saxon. The inhabitants of this community seem to be a bit strange. Stefano is taken to the local chapel where he is shown a recently discovered fresco that he has been tasked with restoring. It's a disturbingly graphic depiction of the sacrifice of St. Sebastian, painted 40 or so years earlier by the mysterious local painter Legnani, known as the 'painter of agony' such was his predilection for capturing images of death. Stefano subsequently receives a number of anonymous threatening phone calls suggesting that he should abandon his work and leave. His friend, the local doctor, takes him aside and warns him that he has discovered something ominous about the community, centring on a 'house with laughing windows' but before he is able to elaborate further he is interrupted. His friend is murdered shortly afterwards in mysterious circumstances. Stefano is eventually driven away from the local hotel and winds up staying in a remote house with a retarded odd job boy from the chapel and a bed-ridden old woman. He also finds an old tape-recording that contains the very sinister narration from the opening credits. I won't spoil the fun by revealing more.

The title and release date of this movie suggests that it will be a typical giallo. But this simply is not the case. Despite adopting some of the conventions of the genre – the mystery maniac and tragic back-story – this is not a body-count movie and there is no black-gloved assassin. The horror is more subtle but, crucially, a lot more frightening than the average giallo. This really is a scary movie. It fuses the aforementioned giallo elements with the weird rural community horror seen in films like The Wicker Man. Although the inhabitants are less weird here, the setting does have a similarly unsettling feel. It's the menacing atmosphere of the film that really sets it apart from most. It's the little details that make the difference, for example, the haunting tape-recording is particularly well used.

The photography is fine and really maximises the locations, which themselves are very well selected, the interior of the mysterious house where Stefano lodges is very effectively used. The music is particularly good, especially the brooding piano piece that accompanies the suspense scenes. The acting, too, is a notch above the average Italian horror. And the gore is kept to a minimum but, as a result, when it does show up it has a stronger effect. I would go so far as to say that this relatively unheralded film is one of the best Italian horror movies. It's an essential DVD for any Euro horror collection.