La casa dalle finestre che ridono

Yesterday I watched one of the my favourite giallos of all time. The House with the laughing windows(1976) was directed by Pupi avati. I have to admit my ignorance of Pupi avati as a director. I only know he has directed some other cult movie called Zeder. Judging by this movie, he was destined for great things but that potential was never fulfilled.

The plot goes like this. Stefano is a restorer comes to an island in order to rescue the fresco depicting the suffering of St.Sebastian. The artist(now dead) was known to be a disturbed individual who painted scenes of death and suffering. He is somehow given a place to live by a somewhat mentally challenged individual. From this point onwards, he notices the sinister behaviour of the villagers. He doesn't understand it and decides to get to the bottom of the mystery that haunts the village.

This giallo is unique and quite different from other giallos because unlike other giallos, there is not much gratuitous violence or sex to keep the viewer interested. There are no scenes which would shock the viewer or anything like that. That is one reason why giallo aficionados might not appreciate this movie completely. It does not have the usual gimmicks and over the top acting performances that are generally expected from giallo actors and actresses. The leading man(Lino capollichio) is amazingly capable of carrying the whole movie on his shoulders with a restrained performance of a man who is puzzled and somewhat disturbed by the village and its environment.

The ending is one of best aspects of the film. It is the perfect payoff for patiently building the atmosphere throughout the movie. Another aspect is the creepy atmosphere throughout the movie. It is almost downright scary sometimes. In this aspect, this movie is similar to a movie like Don't look now or Japanese horror than generic giallo films or slashers.

The negative aspects that may turn off some giallo lovers is that it is quite slow but the slow buildup in fact increases the tension and that makes the ending all the more worthwhile. The best scene(according to me) is the scene in the dark room where the hero walks through the room slowly. There is absolute silence in the room which is very unlike other giallo films.

Final rating: 10/10. Yes, it may seem very high but it is worth the high rating. Anybody lucky enough to be able to get a copy of this movie should watch it.

*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.

After 35 years of anonymity, I want to state that I was asked by the director, Pupi Avati, and his brother Antonio to model for the painting. It took place one May day outside of Rome, and I was paid 35,000 lire (about $50) to have them photograph me for eventual conversion into a painting. I show up at the seven-second mark at the beginning of the film, and I know it's me, not only because I have two slides from the shoot, but because the scars on my knees were faithfully recreated by the (uncredited) artist.

I have been attempting to get listed in the credits here on IMDb and would appreciate any advice as to how I can move from an anonymous role to seeing my name in the cast list. It's not much...though it would go a long way to realizing my dream of being in the movies.

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.