I can't guarantee you'll make it all the way through Giallo a Venezia; not because it's a haunted movie like Ringu and watching is dangerous for the spectator, but rather because it is so nasty you'll learn your lesson maybe halfway through, and that'll be enough. After all, there's no law that says you have to watch the entirety of a movie, or a season of a TV show, or even finish a book, right?
And not seeing the whole doesn't necessarily mean you don't profit from the experience, correct? Remember the first episode of Black Mirror, the one with the pig? I realised it was a test, that the showrunners were saying to me, are you really going to sit there and actually watch an act of bestiality? Are you such a slave? So I turned it off. Turning it off before the end was the correct response to it. In the case of this giallo picture, one may learn quite enough before the credits roll, and in any case, the movie alerts you to the married couple's fate from early on. So why wait?
Personally, I don't think this film exists purely to satisfy a scopophilic desire to watch acts of sexual exploitation and sadistic violence. Such things can be shown in a way that is entirely for titilation. Giallo a Venezia allows you to watch the sex games of a couple accelerate towards calamity, and it allows you see acts of murder be performed so as to generate greater levels of fear and suffering. The sexual violence becomes uglier and uglier, and the murderous activities of the killer more horrendous. And the question arises, why am I watching these things when they are horrible? And the impulse to put a cap on the experience, as indeed on one's dark dreams of wish fulfilment need to be capped voluntarily.
What I am saying is that it is too easy to write-off a movie like this as sick an exploitative and thus of no value. It does have a value. It shows that violent acts are repulsive, more than they are arousing. That a human instinct towards competition, upping the ante, can spin out of control, and that its better when we impose our own limits, rather than have them imposed upon us.
Or maybe I'm wrong and its just a shabby little shocker.
Leonora Fani sure is a portrait of youthful beauty, destined for corruption, for such is life's doing. Alas for us.
And not seeing the whole doesn't necessarily mean you don't profit from the experience, correct? Remember the first episode of Black Mirror, the one with the pig? I realised it was a test, that the showrunners were saying to me, are you really going to sit there and actually watch an act of bestiality? Are you such a slave? So I turned it off. Turning it off before the end was the correct response to it. In the case of this giallo picture, one may learn quite enough before the credits roll, and in any case, the movie alerts you to the married couple's fate from early on. So why wait?
Personally, I don't think this film exists purely to satisfy a scopophilic desire to watch acts of sexual exploitation and sadistic violence. Such things can be shown in a way that is entirely for titilation. Giallo a Venezia allows you to watch the sex games of a couple accelerate towards calamity, and it allows you see acts of murder be performed so as to generate greater levels of fear and suffering. The sexual violence becomes uglier and uglier, and the murderous activities of the killer more horrendous. And the question arises, why am I watching these things when they are horrible? And the impulse to put a cap on the experience, as indeed on one's dark dreams of wish fulfilment need to be capped voluntarily.
What I am saying is that it is too easy to write-off a movie like this as sick an exploitative and thus of no value. It does have a value. It shows that violent acts are repulsive, more than they are arousing. That a human instinct towards competition, upping the ante, can spin out of control, and that its better when we impose our own limits, rather than have them imposed upon us.
Or maybe I'm wrong and its just a shabby little shocker.
Leonora Fani sure is a portrait of youthful beauty, destined for corruption, for such is life's doing. Alas for us.