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Stars: John Phillip Law, Brigitte Christensen, Gordon Mitchell, Olinka Hardiman | Written and Directed by Sergio Bergonzelli

Sergio Bergonzelli’s Blood Delirium is a pulpy and eccentric exploration of madness, obsession, and gothic horror tropes, blending the grotesque with the surreal in a manner that is uniquely European. Released in 1988, this Italian horror oddity operates at the intersection of exploitation cinema and psychological thriller, offering viewers a bizarre and unsettling experience that defies conventional narrative expectations.

Blood Delirium tells the story of a deranged artist named Saint Simon (played with unnerving intensity by John Philip Law) who, after the death of his wife, spirals into madness. Living in a decaying mansion with a demented servant named Herman (Gordon Mitchell), Saint Simon becomes obsessed with creating “perfect” art through increasingly macabre means. The arrival of a woman who resembles his late wife plunges the characters into a spiral of murder, manipulation, and hallucination.

September marks Marcello Mastroianni’s centennial, and the Criterion Channel pays respect with a retrospective that puts the expected alongside some lesser-knowns: Monicelli’s The Organizer, Jacques Demy’s A Slightly Pregnant Man, and two by Ettore Scola. There’s also the welcome return of “Adventures In Moviegoing” with Rachel Kushner’s formidable selections, among them Fassbinder’s Mother Küsters Goes to Heaven, Pialat’s L’enfance nue, and Jean Eustache’s Le cochon. In the lead-up to His Three Daughters, a four-film Azazel Jacobs program arrives.

Theme-wise, a set of courtroom dramas runs from 12 Angry Men and Anatomy of a Murder to My Cousin Vinny and Philadelphia; a look at ’30s female screenwriters includes Fritz Lang’s You and Me, McCarey’s Make Way for Tomorrow, and Cukor’s What Price Hollywood? There’s also a giallo series if you want to watch an Argento movie and ask yourself,...

Have you ever remembered a specific scene you watched long ago but not been able to recall what it was from? This happens to me quite a lot. After viewing thousands of horror films, certain scenes get separated from their title somewhere in the vast crevices of my brain. For a long while, I had vivid memories of watching some movie during my teen years where someone held up a foam-covered severed head while laughing manically. For years, I had no clue what the origin of this strange scene was until a year ago when I had the pleasure of viewing In the Folds of the Flesh. Though I vaguely recalled seeing this movie previously, when I saw the soapy head, a light bulb went off and the rest of the film came rushing back like an acid trip…which is very suitable for this psychotropic film!

Director Sergio Bergonzelli...

The term “giallo” initially referred to cheap yellow paperbacks (printed American mysteries from writers such as Agatha Christie), that were distributed in post-fascist Italy. Applied to cinema, the genre is comprised of equal parts early pulp thrillers, mystery novels, with a willingness to gleefully explore onscreen sex and violence in provocative, innovative ways. Giallos are strikingly different from American crime films: they value style and plot over characterization, and tend towards unapologetic displays of violence, sexual content, and taboo exploration. The genre is known for stylistic excess, characterized by unnatural yet intriguing lighting techniques, convoluted plots, red herrings, extended murder sequences, excessive bloodletting, stylish camerawork and unusual musical arrangements. Amidst the ‘creative kill’ set-pieces are thematic undercurrents along with a whodunit element, usually some sort of twist ending. Here is my list of the best giallo films – made strictly by Italian directors, so don’t expect Black Swan, Amer or...

There's something special about saucy European sleaze horror in the 70's.

That unique blend of morally bankrupt, American potboiler pulp noir attitude combined with a distinct haute couture informed Euro-sexuality and sensationally stylized level of graphic, phantasmagorical violence just speaks to me. I worship Dario Argento, swoon over Sergio Martino, bite my lip at the name Leon Klimovsky, click my heels over Antonio Bido, pump my fists at the mere mention of Lucio Fulci…yes, I love these men and the maniacal works of misbehaving, lush, junk-shock cinema they once slung (and in some cases, continue to sling).

I've seen and own so many fantastic Italian, Spanish and French genre films from this period that I consider myself something of a connoisseur, a man who knows and loves his Eurotrash and can differentiate between a really good lurid treat, a middling one and one that couldn't cut the mustard in...