The Case of the Bloody Iris - original title: Perché quelle strane gocce di sangue sul corpo di Jennifer? (translation: “What Are Those Strange Drops of Blood Doing on Jennifer’s Body?”) – is a 1972 Italian ‘giallo’ horror thriller film. In the UK, sexploitation specialist distributors Border Films released the film in a BBFC butchered version as Erotic Blue to appeal to the ‘raincoat crowd‘ just as they did with another Italian giallo import, which they retitled Excite Me.
An attractive young woman is slashed to death by a mysterious killer in the lift of a high-rise block. An exotic black dancer — whose act involves subjugating her male audience — discovers the victim’s body and soon becomes a victim herself. Having become friends with Andrea, the building’s architect, two models, Jennifer and Marilyn, move into the deceased dancer’s former apartment. The bumbling police (aren’t they always ?) are suspicious that Andrea may be the killer. Meanwhile, Jennifer is being harassed by Adam, her former partner.
After being attacked in her bedroom by the masked murderer, Jennifer seeks refuge in her neighbour’s apartment. The seemingly-’good’ samaritan, who lives with her violin playing father, turns out to be a stereotypically predatory lesbian with sexual designs on her good-looking neighbour. Returning to Jennifer’s apartment, the increasingly frantic young women discover a bloodstained orchid and Adam’s body. Later, Marylin is stabbed to death in a busy street. Andrea, who happens to be at the scene of the homicide, becomes smeared in her blood and so goes into hiding from the police. Meanwhile, Jennifer is suspicious of her neighbour, a sour-faced woman named Mrs Moss, who is seen taking ’Killer Man’ comic books into her apartment…
By the early 70s, Italian gialli thrillers had become intrinsically linked with the horror genre. Here, the proverbial old dark house is replaced by a swanky new tower block but the essence of the terror-filled plot is still the same: murders a go-go and suspects a-plenty. There is also that other horror standby: a disfigured madman locked away from view. Producer Luciano Martino was adept at turning out slick, sexy thrillers (usually helmed in more brutal outings by his brother Sergio) and this vehicle for Edwige Fenech, his mistress at the time, is no exception.
For this urbane outing, the directorial reigns were given over to Giuliano Carnimeo – best known for his four Sartana westerns, commedia sexy all’italiana and Rat Man - and the resulting lush visuals are a testament to his eye for striking imagery. The rest of the production team’s talents ensures that this noteworthy killer feature possesses all the right components: wide-eyed victim to be Edwige Fenech and smoothy George Hilton revel in their roles; future director of trash gialli Stelvio Massi (Five Women for the Killer; Black Angel) competently handles the crisp photography; Eugenio Alabiso’s editing is perfectly gauged; while Morricone collaborator Bruno Nicolai’s jaunty score is one of the best easy listening giallo aural accompaniments. More importantly, Ernesto Gastaldi’s screenplay is a delightfully cliche-filled sub-Freudian synthesis of what gialli had become for their intended ‘knowing’ audience.
It’s a sly whodunit laced with copious amounts of nudity and intermittent violence, while the requisite red herrings include toad-like genre regular Luciano Pigozzi as the owner of a Pop Art nightclub, Oreste Lionello as a camp photographer; and Jennifer’s seemingly insane jealous ex-lover, who previously involved her in ‘free love’ orgies (with flashbacks that are an excuse for yet more naked flesh, of course).
Aside from the aforementioned camp cameraman, more mild humour is derived from the antics of the philatelist police inspector (at one point he exclaims out loud, having seemingly found an important clue, although it turns out to be merely a rare stamp instead). Even Jennifer’s flatmate Marilyn gets in on the self-referential playfulness when she jokingly pretends to have been drowned in the bath where the former tenant violently expired. Perhaps tasteless but typical of Italian ‘black’ humour? Ultimately, The Case of the Bloody Iris is a cheerfully, almost, tongue-in-cheek (or should that be blade-in-cheek ?) example of the smoother blend of the giallo genre.
Adrian J. Smith, Horrorpedia
