After a brutal and attention-grabbing opening murder, this movie settles into a predictable rut. Riccardo Freda seems content to borrow the conventions of the giallo genre--such as giving the killer a recognizable trait like a limp, and then having half the characters in the film limp in various scenes--but manages to suck the life out of them, leaving a rather slow-moving film. Freda is considered a top-notch Italian director but it's hard to see why, especially since his protege had outclassed him and positively defined the genre the year before. Still, it's done with enough care to have (apparently) taught Brian DePalma a thing or two when it came to "Dressed to Kill," and the finale has a jaw-dropping viciousness to it that has to be seen to be believed, involving a nude 16 year-old, an old woman and a completely berserk black-gloved killer. It's just a shame that the scenes between the violent ones aren't more involving and interesting.
Review of The Iguana with the Tongue of Fire
