#or American face turn up in an Italian genre film‚ but the crossover with old British tv (my other one true love) is pretty minimal

[mariocki]

Spaghetti Western icon and international film star Frank Wolff inexplicably turns up as the villainous Jim Reston in The Saint: The Old Treasure Story (4.9, ITC, 1965)

[silverleafnightshade-blog]

The Eyes of Laura Mars

Released in 1978, The Eyes of Laura Mars is set in the glimmering yet gritty world of NYC haute couture fashion. Mad Magazine parodied the film as “The Eyes of Lurid Mess” and rightly so, for it definitely has plot issues and some grade-A-Virginia-ham overacting. However, director Irvin Kershner managed to capture a whiff of the cultural crossover as the NYC scene shifted from disco to punk. Often touted as the first American giallo film, The Eyes of Laura Mars tidily ticks off the boxes of the Italian genre: a mix of gorgeous and grimy settings, the gruesome murder of beautiful people, and many misdirections before the killer is finally revealed. Added to the mix is Ms. Virginia Ham herself (Faye Dunaway), a hairy Brad Dourif, and a preternaturally prehistoric Tommy Lee Jones. Dourif is only four years younger than TLJ in real life, but he looks like a bearded baby next to TLJ’s tire-treaded brow. Hell, TLJ is six years younger than Dunaway, but there’s not even a scratch of the cougar in their relationship.

Faye Dunaway of course plays the main character, a superstar high fashion photographer who begins to have disturbing visions of murder. Fun fact: the actual images of famous fashion photogs Rebecca Blake and the so-called “King of Kink” Helmut Newton were used in the film.

Speaking of kink, Barbra Streisand was offered the main role (it helped that she was dating producer Jon Peters at the time) but turned it down because she thought the film’s violent, sexual content was too out-there for her image.

The film opens with a murderous sequence, which turns out to be one of Laura’s nightmares. She awakens in her rather spare and severe bedroom,

and then wanders out to her living room, aka The Neutral Zone. Beige and brown rule the day, as does that giant rooster sculpture. From kitchen kitsch to highbrow decor? Huh. And oof, so. Much. Carpeting!

Laura flips through some negatives and tries to put the nightmare behind her. Soon, driver Tommy (Brad Dourif) is ferrying Laura off to the gala reception for a new publication of her photos. It looks like maybe the exterior was shot at one of the Metropolitan Museum of Art’s side doors. The interior looks somewhat Studio 54-inspired, though.

Hiiiiiiyyyyyeeee! I’m just a photograph, don’tcha worry.

Laura meets cute-ish with Detective John Neville (TLJ), as cute as can be when one’s publisher has been horribly murdered with an ice pick. Neville came for the questioning, but he stayed for the hors d’oeuvres, or rather, he looks a bit hungry for a Mars Bar. Laura goes home and rings up her bestie, who happens to be dating Laura’s ex-husband Michael (a very slimy yet somehow sexy Raul Julia). Everyone calms each other down, and soon enough, Laura heads off for a shoot at Columbus Circle. The concept is a bit S&M, models in lingerie and furs fighting in front of the husks of burning cars...

The concept was inspired by photog Chris von Wangenheim, and so fitting in front of what my father once called “The Devil’s Arsehole” (don’t feel special, C.C., he said that about every Washington D.C. roundabout too). The intersection didn’t get the moniker until 1892, the 400th anniversary of Columbus’s “discovery” of the New World, when a giant statue of the old man was erected. From the invention of the car on, Columbus Circle was considered a hazardous spot for pedestrians. Given the circle’s bad rap for most of the 20th century, it seems quaint to remember that Olmsted intentionally designed the traffic circle as the grand entrance to Central Park in 1857. By 1978, Columbus Circle was “roundly” (oh ho ho) derided as a dangerous thoroughfare. In 1979, architecture critic Paul Goldberger said that the intersection was "a chaotic jumble of streets that can be crossed in about 50 different ways—all of them wrong." A redesign of the circle’s aesthetics and traffic flow began in 1991, and by the Naughty-Aughties, Columbus Circle had even won a few awards for landscape architecture and urban design.

Neville shows up again at Laura’s set at Chelsea Piers. This is my favorite set in the movie, with the fabulous Sterling St. Jacques dancing around and a lot of blown-out color and drama going on.

It’s also one of our last scenes with poor Lulu and Michelle, alas. I actually quite like both of their characters, so silly and yet so sassy. They have the best outgoing answering machine message, and it made me feel so nostalgic for both answering machines, answering machine messages, and that kind of close relationship you’d have with a roommate. That is the kind of relationship that can only be built after hearing all your messages, and knowing all your secrets, unvarnished and unedited by a brunch re-telling. Sigh.

Laura’s studio is amazing - it’s enormous with tons of old windows, stunning harbor views, and some convenient soft spots that are perfect for sexy times with Neville.

Donald (René motherfucking Murat Auberjonois) is such a great character. He’s Laura’s long-suffering agent, and although at times walking the stereotypical line, he is quite comfortably un-closeted. Whenever someone tries to throw homophobic shade his way, he shines a light right up their asses. I do not love the character’s decor choices, though - a bit too Italianate for me, although who can resist a red damask wallpaper and this goddamn face? Not me, friends.

Speaking of Italian classics, Frank Adonis makes an appearance as Sal, Neville’s slightly unhinged partner. I like this shot of him surveying Laura’s apartment with a “mmm, not bad,” expression.

Frank just shuffled off this mortal coil in late 2018, R.I.P. Weird fact: although he’s the Italian guy you recognize from everything, his Wiki page is in French.

SPOILERS, sort of: Neville goes to see Tommy at his spectacularly depressing apartment, and the visit quickly takes a turn for the worse. Tommy stabs a patrolman while escaping arrest, but the Sal the psycho just opens fire on what appears to be the entire East Village, and Tommy est la morte. Neville rings up Laura to tell her the killer has been caught, and pack your bag, baybeee, they are going away! Laura begins to select some careful neutrals to coordinate with the lady Derringer gifted by Neville, when she is suddenly struck by another vision.

Poor Michael gets ‘picked in the elevator of Laura’s building, and the killer is en route to her apartment! Laura manages to lock the front door just in time. Neville soon comes crashing through the balcony window, and this is where the ending gets super giallo: as he begins babbling about Tommy’s terrible upbringing, Neville accidentally reveals that it is he, Neville, who is the killer. But it’s not really Neville! No, it’s his other personality that did the killing. That personality is also apparently responsible for how nicely Neville fills out a black turtleneck, as well as for finishing Neville’s dissertation and keeping the bills paid. The real Neville struggles back to the surface; to protect his true love, he basically shoots himself using Laura’s gun (and trigger finger, as she is holding said gun at the time). The final shot is of Laura calling the cops, and her final line? “I’m Laura Mars.” If there is any shred of happy ending to this story, it might be that she has to rip out that fucking bloodstained carpet. Maybe there’s a nice parquet floor under there? I know that hating on carpeting is low-pile fruit, but there is just no way for mere mortals to keep wall-to-wall carpeting from getting disgusting.

Interesting fact: John Carpenter wrote the spec script for this film, but Kershner’s finished product took some hot turns in the rewrite. Carpenter was still credited despite his protests, but luckily the mixed reviews didn’t affect the success of his next project, Halloween. It’s been nice to revisit some giallo, although I think I’m going to go back to the real-deal Italian giallo next month. I might also be leaving this platform, as sad as that makes me. Tumblr has been doing some bullshit flagging of posts that are very LGBTQ-unfriendly, and well, they are also buggy as hell. I had this post written a week ago but the site kept crashing as I was trying to update. At any rate, stay tuned for any updates, or as I likely know all three of you reading this, I’ll let you know if there’s a new site.