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Roberto (Brandon), a drummer in a rock band, keeps receiving mysterious phone calls and is constantly followed by a strange man. One night he manages to catch his stalker and tries to get him to talk but in the ensuing struggle he accidentally stabs him. He runs away, but his troubles have just begun. The following day he receives an envelope with photos of him killing the man. Someone starts killing all his friends and trying to frame him for the murders. |
Following the marvellous ' Bird with the Crystal Plumage ' (1969) and the overlong but intermittently brilliant ' Cat O'Nine Tails ' (1970), FOUR FLIES ON GREY VELVET (1971), the concluding chapter in Argento's so-called "Animal Trilogy," must come as something of a disappointment. That is not to say that the film is without merit. Far from it. Yet, as will become apparent, the film does suffer from some crippling inadequacies that mark it as the weakest of Argento's first three films.
The setup is a familiar one, but Argento introduces individual details that give the story new vitality. Roberto's mounting paranoia, as he is blackmailed by a witness to the killing who disguises himself with a creepy doll mask (assistant director Luigi Cozzi dons the mask), insures a certain degree of tension, and Argento does not miss an opportunity of milking the various suspense scenes for all they are worth. Amid all the chaos, Roberto finds little solace in the arms of his frigid wife, Nina (Mimsy Farmer), and so he turns to a patented gallery of Argento eccentrics for relief. Notable among these are a philosophical derelict named Godfrey ("God," for short, played by Spaghetti Western mainstay Bud Spencer) and a homosexual private eye named Arosio (Jean Pierre Marielle), whom Roberto assigns to track down the blackmailer. When the film comes to concentrate on these supporting characters, one could quibble that the narrative is slowing down in its tracks, just so the director can indulge in his love for cartoonish caricatures. Yet this criticism is invalidated by the material that surrounds it. Were it not for these supporting characters (who are caricature-ish, but never cartoonish), FOUR FLIES would be a very dreary film indeed. |
| The fact that Michael Brandon never seems totally connected to his role is the film's chief deficiency. Admittedly, Brandon was not Argento's first choice for the part (Michael York, John Lennon and Terence Stamp were all approached, and there are rumours of performers as diverse as Ringo Starr and James Taylor being seriously considered), but the simple fact of the matter is that Brandon IS the actor in the film, and he does little to assist Argento's efforts. Argento authority Maitland McDonagh has suggested that the presence of Brandon (who bears a striking -- albeit more conventionally handsome -- resemblance to Argento) explains why the director does not make one of his customary cameo appearances. |
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| As noted above, it is Luigi Cozzi who plays the masked killer. It is therefore tempting to hypothesize that Argento felt represented enough on screen by Brandon to "take it easy," so to speak. Yet, it seems doubtful that Argento could have identified too strongly with such a dull, lethargic presence -- granted, the director -- with his notorious disdain for actors -- does claim to have kept in touch with Brandon, so feel free to draw your own conclusions. In fairness, it is difficult to detect whether the lack of sympathy aroused for Roberto Tobias is entirely Brandon's fault. Italian horror films are notoriously sketchy with characterization (this is a positive strength in Mario Bava's wickedly amoral gialli), so perhaps Argento the writer is somewhat to blame here. Yet, such an argument does not bear close scrutiny. After all, in his previous films the characters of Sam Dalmas (Tony Musante) and Franco Arno (Karl Malden) are anything but flat and unsympathetic, and the same is true of, for example, David Hemmings as Marc Daly in ' Deep Red '. Then again, it is also true to say that the actors noted above have much more presence and personality than Brandon, so one again the viewer is left to draw their own conclusions. |
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In any event, regardless of blame, Roberto Tobias is a singularly dull protagonist. Alas, he is also at the centre of the narrative, making Argento's job that much harder. Cast in the role of Roberto's (seemingly) mousy wife, Mimsy Farmer is consigned to spending most of the film standing with an anxious look on her face. Only at the end of the film, when her role as the murderer is revealed, does she register strongly as a character. Twitchy and seething with rage, Nina unexpectedly turns on her husband, shooting him in the arm (an act recorded in ultra-slow-motion, a la the later Stendhal Syndrome, (1996), and telling him how she cannot wait to kill him. |
| The psychological motivation once again harkens back to the Freudian "primal trauma" disorder: as a child, Nina was abused by her father, who wanted a son. Unfortunately for Nina, the father died before she could get revenge. And so, seeing in Roberto a distinct resemblance to the dead man (Argento here introduced suggestions of incest, similar to the Terzi-Anna relationship in ' Cat O'Nine Tails '), she decided to marry him and make his life a living hell. In this final scene, Farmer finally comes to life, proving what a fine actress she can be -- would that Argento have given her more to do! |
| Of course, the final showdown between Roberto and his psychotic wife calls to mind not only ' Bird with the Crystal Plumage ', but ' Deep Red ', as well. It is tempting to draw a parallel to Mario Bava's seminal giallo, 'La Ragazza che Sapeva Troppo' (1962, aka Evil Eye), which concludes with a similar set piece (the maddened killer, a female, confronts the amateur sleuth and indulges in psychological torture), and has been cited by Luigi Cozzi as a major influence on ' Bird with the Crystal Plumage '. That said, it is the supporting characters that make this film click. Francine Racette, cast as Roberto's cousin Dalia, with whom he has a brief affair while Nina is away, is positively radiant, and her bathtub love scene with Roberto is one of the sweetest, yet erotic, images in the Argento canon. Bud Spencer does fine work as the slovenly "God" ("If you're gonna call me god, at least call me God almighty!"), who dispenses words of wisdom and ultimately rescues Roberto from Nina's clutches. However, it is Jean Pierre Marielle, as Arosio, who provides the film's heart and soul. Though stereo typically gay ("You think this fairy is going to jump on the desk and scream bloody murder when he sees a mouse?"), he achieves a degree of humanity that recalls Karl Malden's Arno in ' Cat O'Nine Tails ', and relatively few Argento characters thereafter. The scenes of him picking of Roberto's homophobia are deliciously written and performed (Yes -- even Brandon comes to life in these scenes!), and prove conclusively that Argento is capable of creating believable characters and dialogue when he feels like it. Alas, Arosio falls victim to the murderer about 3/4 of the way through, thus shifting the narrative back onto Brandon's stooped shoulders. |
| On the technical front, the film has its share of pleasures. Ennio Morricone contributes a good score, not up to the standards of his best work, perhaps, but fine just the same. The widescreen photography is up to Argento's usual impeccable standards, and there are some truly bizarre insert shots (a child blowing confetti onto Calisti's sunglasses, Roberto smashing a fly with his cymbals, a point of view shot with a cigarette projecting ominously into frame, etc.). Keeping with his usual practice of disposing of his murderers in an innovative fashion, Argento devises a spectacular demise for Nina -- she crashes into the back of a lorry while speeding, and literally loses her head -- all in slow motion. Amusingly, this final scene required the destruction of about a dozen cars before the desired effect was achieved! |
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| In the end, FOUR FLIES can be considered medium-scale Argento, but even medium Argento is better than most anything else in the thriller scene, so it's a must see. Alas, the film is one of the hardest to find Argento titles on video. Though released by Paramount Pictures (on a double bill with Robert Aldrich's 'Ulzana's Raid', a western with Burt Lancaster), the studio seems to have lost all interest in the film. However, they also appear to still be in possession of the video rights, which explains why an official release has been so long in coming. On the grey market video scene, various dupes of varying quality have appeared, none of which do the film much credit. These vary from a French release (very badly dubbed into English by a canny video distributor, with the help of two VCRs) which is letterboxed at approximately 1.85 to a splicy, dark, but perfectly letterboxed 16mm transfer. At the very least, the former video preserves the nudity in the Roberto/Dalia love scene (trimmed for US theatrical release), as well as the Morricone chorale that accompanies Roberto's greeting of "God" ("Hallejuliah!"). Until Paramount opts to either lease the film to a smaller company like Anchor Bay, or to properly release the film on video, it is likely to remain the most obscure of Argento's gialli. |
| credits |
| cast: |
Michael Brandon, Mimsy Farmer, Jean-Pierre Marielle, Bud Spencer, Aldo Bufi Landi, Calisto Calisti, Marisa Fabbri, Oreste Lionello, Fabrizio Moroni |
| director: |
Dario Argento |
| producer: |
Salvatore Argento |
| screenplay: |
Dario Argento, Luigi Cozzi, Mario Foglietti |
| cinematography: |
Franco Di Giacomo |
| music: |
Ennio Morricone |
| sfx: |
Cataldo Galliano |
| technical information |
| negative: |
35mm |
| print: |
35mm |
| aspect ratio: |
2.35:1 |
| format: |
Techniscope |
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