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| A haunted Sylvia (Mimsy Farber) graces the elegant and very weird The Perfume of the Lady in Black (1974) |
Italian giallos are some of my favorite types of horror films, especially if they are centered on a female protagonist lurking around an incredibly stylish set. They've often been accused of being more style than substance, and frequently seen as an incoherent mess of red herrings, but there's something so intangibly cool about these (mostly) 1970's thrillers, that none of those complaints make any difference to me--especially in regards to the gorgeous, and undeniably wacky,
The Perfume of the Lady in Black (1974). Even though director Francesco Barilli wrote
Who Saw Her Die (1972) and later directed
Hotel Fear (1977), he's not really that known for his giallo offerings. I wish he would have had a chance to dabble in the subgenre some more, because this 1974 film is completely, and utterly, unique.
Perfume introduces us to Sylvia Hacherman (Mimsy Farber), a career woman working at a perfume factory, with a smooth boyfriend, Roberto (Maurizio Bonuglia), and an elegant neighbor, Francesca (Donna Jordan). She lives in an apartment complex with some very nosy neighbors, such as hippo-obsessed Signor Rosetti (Mario Scaccia), and a mysterious black cat named Chopin. Sylvia
seems successful and assured, albeit a little quiet, but this facade hides a roiling mind, troubled by her absent father and a trauma connected to her dead mother. In typical giallo style, the film provides clues to Sylvia's puzzling past, but also throws in enough ominous little moments to make viewers suspicious of everyone--especially Andy (Jho Jenkins), a black man who talks about occult practices and ritual sacrifice at dinner parties. While playing tennis with Andy, she cuts her hand on a nail that happens to be jutting out of her racket, and Andy seductively sucks on the wound in a truly unsettling manner. He and Roberto are pals, but they seem to exchange frequent odd gazes when Sylvia's back is turned. I give some credit to Roberto in a love scene which is exclusively about her pleasure--nice. Yet, for the most part, you can't trust this guy. He's shifty and far too smooth. Unsurprisingly, the narrative hinges on whether Sylvia is mentally disturbed, or whether her friends and neighbors are deliberately trying to drive her there.
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| Sylvia is haunted by visions of her mother, handling perfume while wearing black |
In many ways, Sylvia is a classic haunted heroine, jumping at shadows and seeing people only she can see. As the film unfolds, she becomes increasingly unstable: she flashes back to her mother having sex with someone other than her father, and sees Mom in all sorts of places. In one version of events, Sylvia stabs her mother's lover, indicating an early penchant for violence. She repeatedly visits her mother's grave, until she violently smashes her mother's image on her gravestone with a hammer. In another scene, she's using scissors to cut all the men out of her mother's photographs. She becomes enamored with a vase she sees in a store, but when she goes to purchase it, it's no longer there. Shortly thereafter, it shows up as a gift at her door, as if someone is watching her, or can see inside her mind. She starts to see a younger, child version of herself hanging around her apartment, until the girl declares "I've come to live with you." Little Sylvia gives "the bad seed" a run for her money. Things escalate, and soon Sylvia's getting really handsy with a cleaver, and setting up her own macabre tea party after
obviously reading
Alice in Wonderland.
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| Grown Sylvia and Little Sylvia bound together over a mysterious shared trauma |
Still, there's more going on in this film than Sylvia merely losing her mind because she's haunted by a trauma from her past, and viewers are given glimpses in order to suggest some gaslighting is underway. Sylvia is blown off by Roberto for one evening, but as she hangs up, the camera cuts to Roberto climbing into his car with both Andy and Francesca by his side (Andy's supposed to be on a date with Francesca that evening too). Soon, the gang are joining a whole bunch of other people, dressed in black trenchcoats, and hanging around an ominous warehouse space. The next day, the neighbors are whispering over the tragic death of Francesca, who somehow fell to her death the previous night. How??? After the memorial service/cremation, the camera cuts to Signor Rosetti, painting some hippos (yes, I'm not kidding) and feeding his cats some bloody looking meat. A close-up reveals there's a finger in that mess! What??? They even have a seance with a blind psychic, because...creepy. The film isn't remotely as entertaining if you insist on these random things making any sense.
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| A blind psychic creeps out Sylvia in a random seance they happen to have |
Often a film's ending is what really solidifies the narrative's drive, or may give the audience a false impression, only to perform a killer twist in the end. For instance, in Wes Craven's
A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984), we ostensibly believe that Nancy has successfully banished Freddy just by virtue of turning her back on him, even after a rather violent climactic battle. Yet, that film's
actual ending turns everything upside down in a "what just happened??" way.
The Perfume of the Lady in Black performs a similar feint. By film's end, we're pretty convinced that Sylvia has lost her mind, and turned to violence once again. But then...the gory ending makes you feel like you're watching some
other film, even though most of the cast of characters left standing are from earlier moments--at her apartment building, at the perfume plant, and even from the local antique store.
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| Francesca's pad just gives you a sense of the outre style and visual flair of the film |
I'm very deliberately NOT giving away the ending of the film, so I recommend checking the film out--it's available on Amazon Prime for as little as a couple of bucks, and well worth your time. The film is bold, visually rich, and gloriously demented.
