BLOOD AND BLACK LACE
1964
Directed by Mario Bava

Though not director Bava’s first foray into giallo (the film genre he more or less pioneered with 1962’s The Girl Who Knew Too Much [aka The Evil Eye], Blood and Black Lace is probably the first important release in the genre (Italian for “yellow,” and named after the yellow cover on a popular series of dark, violent Italian suspense novels). Chalk it up as another trend the influential director helped start—he also played significant roles in launching the spaghetti western, the “body count” thriller and Italian filmdom’s horror resurgence in general. But on to B&BL …
Someone’s killing all the wimmens at swanky Chistian Haute Couture, in a story of blackmail, twisted love and dark secrets. And, of course, grisly murders. Mr. Bava has a field day casting his trademark brilliant color over an Italian high-fashion backdrop. Variously hued wire mannequins mark a stylish opening sequence, complete with bubbly cocktail music. But as good as the lighting and scene composition are—and they are often a treat—the film’s fierce murder scenes command the most attention. We’ve got death by strangulation; by long, hideous face-burning; by Medieval, iron-pronged torture mitt; and, in a particularly beautiful sequence, by drowning.
Eva Bartok and Cameron Mitchell star as Christine and Max, who co-own the fashion house and share a bed. When model Isabella (she’s the one whut gets strangulated) leaves behind a diary containing incriminating evidence, it sets off a killing spree that leaves most of the men surrounding the fashion house as murder suspects. Deceit follows more deceit, setting up a few surprise twists at the end.
It’s also interesting to note the anonymity of the killer (who wears a featureless, white mask, perhaps a forerunner of the likes of screen-slashers Jason and Michael Myers), a device that allows the director to throw viewers off the whodunit trail. At times a bit confusing (there are many characters and most of the models have little personality to speak of), B&BL nevertheless rewards repeated viewing with inklings into the director’s often under-appreciated craft.

–Undead Ned