Dom's B-Movie Round-Up Issue #3

Autopsy

My tastebuds have never slabbered for gialli. If you don't know what "gialli" are, then you probably aren't reading this right now. Since this review was written for the initiated, I won't bother defining geek-inclusive terminology. In any case, the only giallo that I can see myself watching again is "Don't Torture a Duckling." The subgenre just doesn't speak to me. I wasn't shocked when Armando Crispino's "Autopsy" bored the egg noodles out of me. It starts out on the right foot. A priest and a doctor investigate a string of suicides that are believed to be triggered by sunspots. Man, that sounds like a cool movie. That plot must belong to a different film altogether.

The first 15 minutes are gripping. We're treated to brutal violence, gratuitous nudity, and grisly hallucinations involving cadaver coition. The next 85 minutes...frankly, it's all a bit fuzzy. People have sex, people freak out, people have sex, people freak out, people have sex, I fall asleep, I wake up, people are still having sex and freaking out...what the hell happened here? There is a convoluted whodunit at play, but since none of the characters are empathetic, I eventually stopped trying to solve the puzzle. The actors are a no-show. The saucy love triangle closely resembles a dry lust oval. The dialogue is stilted. "Autopsy" is uninteresting from top to bottom.

This flick is applauded by giallo connoisseurs. Maybe that's my problem. If you dig on Italian murder mysteries, you may find "Autopsy" to be a pleasing affair.

The Brute Man