L'île de l'épouvante

An industrialist invites some of his friends to his island retreat in order to persuade a chemist (William Berger better known as Django}to sell them his new secret formula for an industrial resin. Of course he doesn't want to sell at any price and this leads to resentment and veiled threats which leads to all on the island being killed off one by one, in this "Ten little Indians" type thriller and of course there is a storm brewing and the phones are down, I think you get the picture….Now how do I review a Bava film without mentioning "Stylish" or "Superb use of Colour"…. I don't think I can really,but I will try…..This films theme is reminiscent of Bava's more famous work Bay of Blood, with its high body count….it has a funky little score too, very 60's…..the film at times tends towards black comedy with the body bags swinging in the freezer, I have to say it made me laugh and as with all Bava films the women are quite nice to look at…in particular Edwige Fenech a lady I have heard a lot about and I can see why….all in all an enjoyable little thriller, not Bava's best work but certainly worth a look

The late Italian director Mario Bava (1913-1980) made a handful of genuinely great films, like Black Sunday, Lisa and the Devil, and Blood and Black Lace, along with many that almost transcend kitsch, i.e. Diabolik and Black Sabbath, and some that are simply wonderful kitsch. Of the third category, this may be the best example.

A group of rich, decadent swingers in the most tasteless fashions of the time (the year is 1970) cavort about on an island owned by one of them. One guest is a scientist with a formula that could be worth a fortune. When he refuses to sell the formula, everybody on the island starts dying one by one (a la Agatha Christie's Ten Little Indians,) the bodies literally piling up in the meat locker, just one example of the hilariously dark humor Bava brings to this dubious premise.

Bava made no bones about this movie being a paycheck job, or of his shame for it - the script was atrocious, the producer refused to let him have any say in the casting, or let Bava use most of his usual crew, and budget cuts forced the director to have almost every murder take place offscreen. But Bava's films always had a misanthropic wit(except Black Sunday, with its clear-cut good versus evil scenario,) and in the case of "Five Dolls For An August Moon," it almost seems like the director's contempt for the project actually made the end result funnier and more brazen than expected. Bava had a technical facility that most money-burning present day directors would kill for, and a complete lack of pretensions to being anything other than a hard-working director for hire. When the chemistry was just right, it could create a glorious bauble (or, less often, something even better.)

Is it good? Well, as the saying goes, how could something so right be so wrong?

One of the few films directed by Italian horror maestro Mario Bava that I hadn't seen, as well as a film starring my latest object of cinematic lust, Edwige Fenech, 1970's "Five Dolls for an August Moon" was one that I eagerly popped into my DVD player at home. And it turns out that it was well worth the wait. In this very interesting giallo, a group of businessmen convenes, with their wives, at an ultramodern beach house on what looks to be a lonely Mediterranean island, with the purpose of convincing a scientist to sell them the formula for his new industrial resin. Before long, though, "Ten Little Indians" style, the group's members start to be killed off one by one, and, in a nice, eerie touch, are kept hanging in plastic wrap in the house's meat locker. The plot here is complex enough without being ultimately impossible to understand or swallow, although one or two points do not withstand logical consideration after the movie is done. Still, Bava's direction is typically stylish, with some memorable set pieces (dig those bouncing marbles!); a chic, jazzy score by Piero Umiliani aids immeasurably in moving things along (what a terrific soundtrack CD this film could have!); and the picture, though not as graphically violent as, say, Bava's "Twitch of the Death Nerve" (1971), still provides some grisly moments. And Edwige? Well, whether doing a frenzied dance number in gold lame bell-bottoms and matching brassiere or strutting around in various states of undress, this luscious Eurobabe does not disappoint. She is easily the hottest of the "five dolls" here; whotta knockout! My thanks to Image Entertainment for this great-looking DVD of a film never released theatrically here in the U.S.

George Stark (Teodoro Corrà), a wealthy industrialist, invites several business friends and their partners to his island retreat for the weekend, with the intention of convincing scientist Gerry Farrell (William Berger) to sell his secret formula for a new industrial resin. Philanthropist Gerry isn't interested in making a deal, intending instead to make his invention public, a fact that forces one or more of the guests to turn to murder.

The general consensus seems to be that this is one of director Mario Bava's weakest efforts (even Bava himself was reportedly not fond of the film, being contractually obliged to direct); I can't really comment much on that since I've seen too few of his films to compare, but what I can say is that, even though I found the twists and turns of this Italian variation of Agatha Christie's Ten little Indians virtually impossible to fathom (especially the twist ending), there were still enough positives to make it worth a go.

As with many a giallo, the female cast are very easy on the eye, with genre regular Edwige Fenech stripping off whenever possible as always. There are numerous murders, and although they all occur off-screen (we get to see just the aftermath), the hanging up of the steadily growing number bodies in a meat locker is wonderfully macabre and darkly amusing. The jazzy score is super cool, perfectly complementing the wonderful '60s/'70s architecture and decor of the island's house. And despite Bava's purported disinterest, there is still an unmistakable sense of style, with effective uses of whip-pans and rapid zooms, and at least one stunning scene worthy of a genius, wherein a display of glass balls roll down a spiral staircase, along the floor, and into a bathtub where a woman has committed suicide.

All said and done, if this is his worst, I really must check out his best.