Theatre of the absurd

Argento protégé Michele Soavi’s directorial debut remains a visually inventive and gory misfire, but the fascinating extras on this new restoration almost make up for the film’s shortcomings

Stage Fright

Dir Michele Soavi, Italy 1987

Shameless Films, Blu-ray, £17.99

The debut feature from Dario Argento’s one-time protégé Michele Soavi, Stage Fright could have been the beginning of a new era for Italian horror cinema. Argento’s powers were starting to show signs of waning – 1985’s

Phenomena was especially poorly received – and the genre needed someone to step into the great man’s shoes. Soavi was an assistant director on that film and its predecessor Tenebrae; in an interview on this Blu-ray release he states that being an AD for the great man was what he’d always wanted to do. However, for

Stage Fright Soavi was contacted by Aristide Massacessi (aka, among many other names, Joe D’Amato), the prolific director of Italian horror and porn films that can most kindly be described as workmanlike, who suggested Soavi direct a feature with Massacessi producing. Another Italian genre legend Luigi Montefiori (aka, among many other names, George Eastman) came up with a story idea and a script and shooting began.

Although Soavi went on to make some excellent horror films ( The Church, The Sect and, best of all, Dellamorte Dellamore), his first feature is a disappointment. Clearly in thrall to Argento’s style, Soavi apes the camerawork, the

A new and experimental musical looks like a Hot Gossip video

coloured lighting, the pounding synth rock score, the lack of plot and reliance on visuals, and the gruesome set piece kills. They could have stuck Argento’s name on it and no one would have been any the wiser.

The story, such as it is, concerns a group of young dancers and actors who are rehearsing a new and experimental musical that, judging by what we see, is something like a Hot Gossip music video. The single-minded director Peter (played by Irish actor David Brandon, a veteran – or should I say survivor – of several Massacessi flicks, including the notorious Caligula from 1982) will do anything to make a success of his production and behaves much as directors have always done in cinema, especially towards sensitive leading lady Alicia (Barbara Cupisti).

Rehearsals are taking place in a large and dilapidated theatre in the middle of nowhere but – quite coincidentally, you understand – only a short drive from a psychiatric hospital. It is from this hospital that sadistic serial killer Irving Wallace has just escaped and he makes his way to the nearest available place that offers plenty of victims and a surprisingly large array of weaponry: that’s right, the rehearsal studio!

Killing the seamstress Betty to gain access to the building, Irving then hides himself away, biding his time. Naturally, when Betty’s body is discovered the police become involved; despite the whole place being a crime scene with a known madman on the loose, everyone is allowed to stay, with just two policemen detailed to guard the premises. The pair are played by Soavi himself and an unsung but hugely important figure in Italian cinema, Mickey Knox. Knox had been involved in pictures since the late Forties, but found himself on the wrong end of the McCarthy witch-hunt and moved to Europe in search of work. He found it, too, not only acting but also adapting hundreds of English-language pictures into Italian and working as a voice coach.

I digress. Director Peter decides to turn this terrible event to his advantage and incorporate the murder into his production. The cast are shocked, but when Peter impresses upon them that the musical represents their last shot at fame and fortune they go along with his idea. They keep going, long into the night, which is Irving’s cue to start going about his business, which he does with gusto, wearing an owl head. There are stabbings, drillings, chainsawings, axings, a full body burn, cuttings-in-half and decapitations. Something for everyone there, I think.

But while there’s plenty to keep gorehounds happy – and there’s nothing wrong with that – anyone wanting something a little more challenging, inventive, or sophisticated is going to be sorely disappointed. Soavi, perhaps under pressure from pretty conservative and moneyminded producers, doesn’t stray far from the basic Argento model, but his film really does resemble the worst of latter-day Dario. He ditches Goblin in favour of composer Simon Boswell, but all Boswell can deliver is a proggy, synthy, utterly anonymous score that is frankly a chore to sit through. At one point, as Alicia searches for the key she needs to exit the studio, the scene is accompanied by what sounds like James Brown’s “Funky Drummer’ break. All very odd.

Soavi displays a similar level of interest in the performances of his cast as Argento did in most of his films, which is to say not very much. As visual storytellers, Soavi and Argento didn’t need actors to propel the plot forward or exhibit emotion. David Brandon says, during a fascinating interview on the Blu-ray, that he tried his best, but when the killings start and all everyone does is scream, then there’s not much acting required. In the absence of much direction or indeed any interesting dialogue to deliver from the script, some of the cast are way OTT and some are way too passive. Only Brandon makes any impression.

So, not great, then; but Stage Fright does hold an interest for its production history, its place in the development of Italian horror, and its undoubted panache in delivering the gory goods. The 4K restoration is decent enough, but the darks are very grainy, and for a horror flick, that’s not helpful. There are only three extras, totalling about an hour and a half, but they are good ones: separate interviews with Soavi, Brandon and Giovanni Lombardo Radice – a fan favourite from more Italian genre pictures than you can shake a stick at – who provides a colourful and unguarded series of recollections about his time working on the film and the larger than life figures of the Italian film industry. ★★★