Let me be honest: I didn't especially care for "The Fifth Cord"as a thriller. There's nothing bad about the movie, a 1971 giallo directed by Luigi Bazzoni. The standard elements of a better giallo are there: the emotionally wounded protagonist, the negative impact of contemporary culture on the psyche and interpersonal relationships, and elaborate murders that link together a twisty plot capped by an out-of-left-field solution. In spite of boasting Franco Nero in the lead role and an un-terrible script, this film never connected with me.
Andrea Bild (Nero) is an alcoholic reporter involved in tempestuous relationships with his former wife and his current girlfriend. When people in his social circle are killed in a series of murders--connected by the presence of gloves with increasing numbers of fingers lopped off found at the scene of each crime--investigators focus on Andrea as the prime suspect. In order to clear his name, Andrea delves deeper into the mystery, bringing himself and his family into danger in the process.
There's little of the fantastique or psychedelic in "The Fifth Cord." Sure, the murders appear to have a link to astrology, but there are no mediums, cults or other Age of Aquarius trappings. The characters are far more measured and nuanced than the kind of leering fashion photographers, predatory bisexuals, and dissociative-disordered clerics that populate similar films. This is an upper middle class melodrama with murders; a well-executed one at that, but neither as insane nor as lurid as the kind of Italo-thriller I prefer.
However, if I view "The Fifth Cord" as ninety-minute fashion spread produced to highlight the clothing, accessories, and hairstyles, it's got an undeniable appeal. The art direction and cinematography are absolutely beautiful and complement the grounded-in-reality storyline. Just take a look at the following images--they could have been taken from an eyewear catalog published this Fall:
Maybe what I'm struggling with is the fact that "The Fifth Cord" is a classier beast than what agrees with my taste. It's an undeniably grown-up movie, opting for stylish tension over throat-grabbing gruesomeness. Sophisticates--and fashion photographers looking for inspiration for new campaigns--would be well-served by seeking this one out.
6 comments:
That second still looks like it's from an architectural design magazine. It's pretty awesome. Giallos certainly aren't about substance, so style is a fair substitute. Your description of this makes me wonder what kind of giallo John Updike might have written.
And where can I get the eye glass catalog to order those styles?
Completely agree: it's a well-made film, everything fits together nicely, but it's hard to get terribly excited about it. The score is really flat, which is a big part of it for me. It's Mill Creek Box good, or late night can't sleep good, but it's pretty subdued and nothing ever really goes off the rails in an interesting way. Good work on a tough film to review!
I think what's missing from this compared to other giallos is that it's not "operatic."
On the plus side: J&B straight from the bottle.
It doesn't help that Vittorio Storaro laminates the film with his lustrous polarized shadows like the surface of black coffee in a white cup in a room full of fluorescent lights. This adds a certain remoteness to the proceedings, like the mildly curious men observing the young couple having sex. Those guys weren't perverts; they were lab assistants! Storaro is a brilliant DP, but probably mismatched for this story. Having said that, I can't imagine a sexier couple than Franco Nero and Silvia Monti, even if Nero does kiss as if he's trying to screw his head into her mouth.
One more thing: for those of you wishing to measure up your viewing experience with T. Kate's fabulous review, this film is currently available as a decent stream through Netflix (if you can suffer through the weird herky jerky pans that seem to afflict their ass-tacular Silverlight player). I hope that's kosher to say, Kate, leading your readers into the belly of the beast. Also, I forgot that Storaro shot The Bird with the Crystal Plumage, so perhaps he's not always mismatched with the flashy mayhem of giallo! Sorry for the two-in-a-row...
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