My newfound role of “guy who writes about movies on the internet, sometimes in a choerent and reasonable manner, even” has, as it turns out, paid unexpected dividends. I’ve punched a dude in the face after being called a “blogger” one too many times; when I’m at a party and I tell people what I do, they fake interest for at least thirty seconds longer than they used to; and most relevantly, working on my reviews has made me quite accustomed to creating my own screencaps.
Now, I know what you’re thinking: “Victor, I’ve heard of ‘Sno-Caps’, but ‘screencaps’? What the heck are those?”
Well, let me tell you. Have you ever read an article about a movie and noticed that there are pictures from that movie included in the body of the text?
Well, my friend, in the industry, that’s what we refer to as a “screencap.”
(That concludes the educational portion of this article.)
In any case, because of my general tendency to do things to excess (hence the pointless preamble above), I always wind up taking more screenshots than I need, often for movies I wind up not reviewing for whatever reason.
So the photos stay in their folder, unknown and unused. It’s a lesser fate than they deserve. Cinematographers worked hard to create memorable images that never have the chance to be appreciated for themselves, as opposed to being absorbed as a mere component of a much larger entity (the movie itself).
So with that in mind, I’ve decided to take it upon myself to unearth these unsung heroes of the cinema, these wayward images.
I proudly present to you the first ever edition of “Victor’s Screencap Clearing House,” wherein I will wax philosophic about one of the many, many screencaps I’ve accumulated over the course of my time with Cinapse. I’ll explore why I took them, what they mean to me, how they represent the movie that spawned them in the first place.
Join me, won’t you?
For our first pick, I decided to choose an image from a movie that I couldn’t quite bring myself to do a full review of, but that contained several images that have stayed with me since I watched it many, many months ago, none moreso than this:
STRIP NUDE FOR YOUR KILLER
(Look, I don’t recall ever saying this was going to be a classy venture…)
Strip Nude For Your Killer is an Italian giallo from 1975. It’s directed by one Andrea Biachi, who I’m pretty sure is a dude, on account of how crazy sexist this movie is.
Seriously. You’ll probably be wind up disappointed if you’re expecting a movie called Strip Nude For Your Killer to be a stunning ode to female empowerment. However, if you were expecting the exact opposite of that, then rest assured the film does not disappoint.
I won’t go into any plot details, lest you want to check it out for yourself, but it’s safe to say that the main theme of this movie seems to be that everyone is awful, all of the time.
Which, come to think of it, is the theme of most giallos in general, but I digress…
This photo, for me, captures one of the aspects that I love about giallos, even when I am forced to concede that most of them aren’t actually very good.
I love a good mystery, but giallos in general, are not good mysteries, contingent as they are on absurd contrivances, improbable plot twists and last minute fake-outs.
They can be poorly paced, they’re generally awkwardly dubbed, and as I hinted before, they’re often more than a little… backwards… in their gender politics.
On the other hand, there’s really nothing else like them. They’re like artifacts of another place and time. Even the worst of them has this very specific sense of mood and atmosphere. The music is almost always funky. If you’re a turtleneck connoisseur, you’ll never find a better selection than in a giallo.
And you know, there’s usually a lot of boobs and graphic violence, if you’re into that sort of thing.
A movie like Strip Nude For Your Killer is clearly going to have all these things in spades. What it also has, and what it shares with some of the better films of this genre, is a sense of absurdity, which I think the picture I chose here represents pretty well.
Take away the naked dude doing the headstand, and this is as wonderfully seventies a room as you’d ever want to see. The awesome Levis poster with bare chested guy wearing a jean jacket; the framed painting of what I’m assuming is an album sleeve for a ‘Hawkwind’ LP; a bookshelf that I can only imagine is filled with the collected works of Betty Friedan (which I can assure you, neither the writer nor the director read); the potted plant that looks only slightly less real than the flowers on the sickly yellow wallpaper…it’s gloriously tasteless, and when you name your movie “Strip Nude For Your Killer“, can you do any less than that?
Which brings us to the presence of our ass-baring friend, who, it should be mentioned, is the hero of the film. Which in giallo terms, means he’s slightly less sleazy than the other dudes in the film, and that is a sliding scale if ever there was one.
I don’t know if I can articulate exactly why I find this so amusing, past the obvious, but maybe that’s all it takes.
I just like the idea that someone wrote this into a script:
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INT. RENT-CONTROLLED APARTMENT IN ROME — DAY
CARLO has just finished making love to LUCIA. LUCIA gets up, gets dressed. Heads over to the kitchen to make them both breakfast, which will inevitably consist of coffee mixed with a splash of J&B.
CARLO begins his morning ritual. He curls himself into a ball, places his hands on the bed, and kicks upward, bringing his feet to rest against the wall.
VIOLA! A perfect headstand!
Oh, also, he’s butt-ass naked.
(In case you were wondering…)
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
Alternately, it amuses me to think that this was improvised, something they came up with on the day of:
ADREA BIACHI: Okay, while she’s in the kitchen, giving her espository dialogue, what are you going to be doing?
(Nino Castanuovo thinks real hard.)
NINO CASTANUOVA: I can do a full headstand.
ANDREA BIACHI: Ha! I like it! I wonder, though…can you do it in the nude?
NINO CASTANUOVA: Ha ha ha! Of course, my friend! Indeed, I don’t know any other way! Ha ha!
(That whole exchange is a lot funnier if you picture them speaking in the prototypical “dubbed Italian” movie voice.)
My point, and I can’t say to a certainty that I actually have one, is that it’s these bits of color, these weird little moments you can’t anticipate…those are the things that stay with you. I watched a movie called ‘Strip Nude For Your Killer’, and this is the image that I took away from it.
Well, okay, yes. I did take some screenshots of all the boobs. But those are for Victor.
Only for Victor…
