Strip Nude for Your Killer [1975]

It's safe to say that all works of fiction have an internal logic that puts the plot in motion and guides it through its various twists, leading the story to its conclusion. Granted, the type of logic can vary drastically--there's Dream Logic, Kid Logic ("Batman can shoot lasers out of his fingertips, and Spiderman totally drives a racecar and has a robot sidekick"), and Retard Logic ("let's split up and investigate these woods where the murders have been taking place, armed only with flashlights!"). Every once in a while, however, a movie dances across my eyeballs that defies my attempts to apply any known system of logic to the goings-on. Andrea Bianchi's "Strip Nude for Your Killer" is one such movie.

To put this in context, 1975 was the year that gave us both Dario Argento's sublime "Profondo Rosso" (marking a deliberate break from his earlier "Animal Trilogy) and the absurd "Strip Nude for Your Killer." The giallo had been milked almost dry and filmmakers were trying to extract as much from the genre as possible. The golden years of the giallo had past, and the intricate elements of these stories (perverse sexuality, the cruelties of modern life, dark psychology) began to get eclipsed by an emphasis on profuse nudity and gore. NOT that there's no love for nudity and gore in the Empire, mind you--but this viewer finds herself pining for the complex character studies of some of the earlier entries while watching most post-1972 gialli.

9 out of 10 black-gloved killers prefer the taste of J&B

"Strip Nude for Your Killer" is a shameless attempt to cash in on the Blood 'n' Boobs craze, and as such, you can't really hate it too much. It does, indeed, give us nudity and killing in plentiful doses. It also works in some really unwelcome comedy and has little of the visual flair that characterizes the best of the giallo breed. The plot is fairly straight-forward: the employees of a fashion photography firm are being stalked and killed by a black-leather-clad assassin. A horrible secret from the past unites them and has marked them for death. All is revealed at the end in typical WTF style--there's no priest to blame, so the scriptwriter had to go for the next best shocking thing.

Sweetie, I couldn't have said it better myself.

Nino Castelnuovo, having Hit The Wall face-first at top speed sometime between playing the elegant male lead in 1969's "Camille 2000" and "SNfYK," plays Carlo Bianchi, a fashion photographer so oily and misogynistic that I found myself wondering if he was any relation to Hillside Strangler Kenneth Bianchi. Carlo is over-the-top even by giallo antihero standards, with his inclinations towards rapeyness, buttcheek-baring Speedos, and general air of hirsute dissipation. It's all the more perplexing that fellow fashion photographer Magda Cortis, played by Euro-Super-Babe Edwige Fenech, throws herself at Carlo in a darkroom seduction scene featuring a totally AWESOME garter belt that this viewer feels is entirely wasted on its intended target.

But--what about those murders? They're taking place somewhere, yes? Well--yes. But the movie feels like two different films up until about a third of the way in, when the police appear to begin investigating these murders. Italian detective work FOR THE WIN once again! The murders each involve some sort of genital mutilation, which points to a sexual motive for the crimes. Of course, since every character in the film is a pervert or strumpet of some stripe, this only serves to expand the scope of the investigation. Everybody's got something to hide, and Carlo decides to launch his own investigation with Magda (as you do).

Back to the logic that drives this film--simply put, it's entirely alien, even for a giallo. People just DO STUFF because it drives the plot, not because it is in keeping with their (admittedly flat) character motivations or because it makes anything approaching sense. The scene in which I finally tapped out of even attempting to understand the plot occured when one of the fashion models is essentially kidnapped by the owner of the agency (who happens to be a morbidly obese sex addict)...

...almost falls victim to a rape attempt...

...then agrees to sex...

...then comforts the agency owner when he cannot Do The Deed...

...and ultimately refuses payment for her services. This all goes down over the course of two minutes of screen time and just makes the mind reel. Better yet--it has no function in terms of plot and is played as a comedic interlude. This occassioned the fifth time during the course of the movie in which I felt the pressing need to shower off a thin layer of slime.

I won't mention the fact that the movie ends on a freeze-frame of Carlo and Magda after Carlo has threatened Magda with anal rape. Those wacky kids and their forced sodomy hijinx!

This apartment was designed by the folks who brought you "The Yellow Wallpaper"

The mise-en-scene in this film is absolutely apeshit as well. It's a wonderland of Levi's and J&B product placement devised, I can only imagine, by competing companies who wished to slander the good names of these companies. The interiors are made up of so many competing patterns it's like sombody put on three teevees playing three different episodes of "the Brady Bunch," peered through a prism, and slapped the results on-screen. I also like the fact that if you're running a successful ad agency, you'd find the need to decorate your apartment entirely in those advertising mirrors you'd win at playing flip-a-frog at a carnival. Astonishing stuff, and surely the product of a deranged mind.

Your film has SERIOUS issues when this dude's boobs get almost as much screen time as Edwige's boobs

"SNfYK" is a sleazy mess that borders on parody, playing like the twisted love child of a "Love Boat" entry and an antediluvian episode of "Silk Stalkings." For giallo completists and fans of Edwige's boobs, it's not unwatchable--all others should view at their own risk!

The classy, sophisticated Flickr gallery of stills from "Strip Nude for Your Killer" resides here.