GIALLO SUNDAY: The Night Evelyn Came Out of the Grave

Feeling very much like a companion piece to ‘The Red Queen Kills Seven Times’, made a year later, ‘The Night Evelyn Came Out of the Grave’ also inhabits a world of aristocratic characters, gothic castles, madness and dark family secrets. Also like ‘TRQKST’, ‘TNECOotG’ flirts with the suggestion of supernatural goings on before settling down into a more traditional giallo format.

The first half of the film depicts the insular lifestyle of British nobleman Lord Alan Cunningham (Anthony Steffen), alone and undergoing an emotional breakdown in the sprawling family estate after the death of his flame-haired wife, the Evelyn of the title. Plagued by thought that Evelyn had been unfaithful to him, Lord Al integrates with the grieving process by way of picking up red-heads at strip clubs and other insalubrious venues, taking them back to his place and torturing and murdering them.

His personal physician Dr Timberlane (Giacomo Rossi-Stuart), who realizes that Lord Al is having “episodes” (but not to what extent!) warns him off red-heads but advises him to marry again. Which is kind of like advising an alcoholic to stay off the whisky but to keep his eye out in Oddbins for any decent offers on vodka.

When he’s not cruising for women, consulting with his doctor, hanging out with his cousin George (Enzo Tarascio) or paying off his groundsman Albert (Roberto Maldera) – who is also Evelyn’s brother – to keep quiet about his nocturnal activities, Lord Al is tormented by visions of his dead wife. At a séance, he spirit seems to appear but he faints clean away before things can progress.



Thus the first third or so of the film. Then Lord Al meets the voluptuous Gladys (Marina Malfatti) who is not a red-head (she’s blonde) and therefore avoids a nasty fate back at the castle. Quite the contrary, actually: Lord Al proposes to her. And so we come to the next part of the film, wherein his lordship decides to restore the castle, his helpful Aunt Agatha (Joan C. Davies) – yes, he has an aunt Agatha; by this point I was expecting Jeeves to put in an appearance and say something like, “I took the liberty, my lord, of putting the J&B on ice” – hires some staff, and he and Gladys move in together. Cue dead bodies, the disappearance of Evelyn’s corpse from the crypt, increasingly aggressive behaviour from Albert, and deeply suspicious behaviour from just about everybody else.

‘TNECOotG’ tests the patience a bit in its early stages, mainly because Lord Alan’s such an unlikeable character; also, there’s very little in the way of suspense. However, Miraglia exploits the longueurs of this section by sneakily seeding character traits and motivations inimical to the latter stage of the proceedings. And when he’s finally able to cut loose with the tense set-pieces, hellish storms and burgeoning body count, rest assured that it’s good, sick, cynical fun all the way. Red herrings, scheming relatives, and a welter of murders (including death by foxes, death by snakebite and death by poisoned champagne) – it’s like Agatha Christie on hallucinogenic substances.

The film is beautifully shot and the score’s decent. The ending is fairly guessable, even if the mechanics of it are worked out differently to what you might expect, and the last-reel exposition is kept mercifully succinct. Miraglia plays fair: all the clues are there and he doesn’t fob the audience off with something completely arbitrary (I’m looking at you, ‘Case of the Bloody Iris’). Where it loses points is in the performances: Steffen’s is one-note and that note wears thin very quickly; Tarascio and Rossi-Stuart are average; and all Malfatti’s given to do is flounce around in a series of diaphanous and cleavage-revealing outfits.




Arguably the best turn comes from Erika Blanc; unfortunately the script stashes her away for most of the running time.

Taken as something of a trial run for ‘TRQKST’, ‘TNECOotG’ is worth watching. As part of that small sub-set of gialli set in England, it’s arguably in the same league as ‘What Have You Done to Solange?’ and ‘All the Colors of the Dark’, even if it doesn’t quite hit the heights of, say, ‘A Lizard in a Woman’s Skin’.

All the Colours of the Dark

Posted as part of Operation 101010
Category: gialli / In category: 1 of 10 / Overall: 4 of 100


Check out the image above. Off-kilter composition, bottle of J&B, Edwige Fenech. Yup, we’re in giallo territory.

‘All the Colours of the Dark’ is one of five terrific gialli Sergio Martino directed between 1971 and 1973, following on from (and reuniting the stars of) ‘The Strange Vice of Mrs Wardh’ and the magnificently titled ‘Your Vice is a Locked Room and Only I Have the Key’.

Fenech stars as Jane Harrison, the increasingly harassed and distressed partner of London-based pharmaceutical rep Richard Steele (George Hilton). Still plagued with nightmares about the murder of her mother many years previously, Jane is also recovering from the trauma of a car accident (an incident for which it seems Richard is blameworthy) which caused the miscarriage of her baby. Richard favours prescription drugs to treat her nervous condition, while her sister Barbara (Nieves Navarro, appearing under her Susan Scott pseudonym) is keen for Jane to enter therapy with the psychiatrist for whom Barbara works.



To make matters worse, the piercingly blue-eyed killer from her dreams – a man with rather phallic tendencies to knife-wielding – seems to have stepped living and breathing into the real world. Jane’s already fragile condition deteriorates as he begins stalking her, following her on the Underground, keeping sinister vigil outside her apartment building.

Martino establishes a ‘Rosemary’s Baby’-style atmosphere of mounting dread from the outset, probing his heroine’s borderline hysterical mental/emotional state as effectively and unremittingly as Polanski did in his classic of the macabre. The influence of ‘Rosemary’s Baby’ is writ large, but it’s to Martino’s credit that ‘All the Colours of the Dark’ comes across as more than just a knock-off or a cash-in.

Martino gets the ball rolling with a zonked-out dream sequence structured around quasi-Freudian imagery that mirrors Jane’s state of mind. Many more dream/fantasy/paranoia sequences will follow, Martino segueing between Jane’s inner world and the (supposedly) real one with such sneaky aplomb that, for much of the film’s hour and a half running time, he maintains ambiguity as to whether everything we see is simply a product of Jane’s troubled mind. (Lucio Fulci achieved a similar effect, albeit using a different cinematic bag of tricks, in ‘A Lizard in a Woman’s Skin’ made the year before.)

If proof of Jane’s mental turmoil were required, it’s provided by the scene on which the film entire hinges. Panicked after a perhaps-real-perhaps-imagined appearance of the stalker, Jane seeks solace from her alluring but mysterious neighbour Mary Weil (Marina Malfatti).



Jane: I'm sure someone is chasing me, someone coming very deep from my childhood. Do you believe in that sort of thing?
Mary: I believe in a lot more .. I had my problems, too. Not as serious as yours, but I got rid of them.
Jane: How?
Mary: Do you know what a black mass is?
Jane: You're scaring me.
Mary: It makes sense to be afraid sometimes. You have to find it and it'll disappear.

At this point, ‘All the Colours of the Dark’ could easily have lurched into the realms of the risible, the carefully established atmosphere and giallo tropes swamped by this explicitly horror/supernatural-themed narrative development. And, it has to be admitted, Martino’s staging of the black mass/orgy does come close to parody. Bruno Nicolai’s wordless vocal score is unintentionally hilarious while actor Julian Ugarte’s portrayal of the cult leader is less high priest than high camp.

Yet somehow Martino manages to fuse the disparate elements into a decently-paced and never less than entertaining hybrid. He makes good, non-touristy use of the London locations and conjures as many striking compositions and memorable set-pieces as you’d expect from a giallo, culminating in a vertiginous rooftop chase.

Fenech turns in a full-throttle performance as a woman in meltdown. Navarro and Malfatti add to the glamour quotient, even if their performances prove somewhat by-the-numbers. Hilton is dependable, but badly dubbed in the English language version. (Subject of which: the Shriek Show DVD release, while presenting a beautiful anamorphic transfer, suffers from murky sound that renders entire chunks of dialogue nearly indecipherable; fortunately, an Italian language/English subtitles option is available.)

‘All the Colours of the Dark’ arguably stops short of being one of the all-time great gialli, though. It flags a little towards the end. The fantasy vs. reality riff is recycled perhaps once too often. The eleventh hour inclusion of an exposition-spouting police inspector is arbitrary even by giallo standards. A just-as-eleventh-hour subplot involving an unexpected inheritance threatens to steer the mystery from the esoteric to the mundane. More annoyingly, a flashback to a crucial but initially overlooked clue requires a cheat on Martino’s part.

Still, these are relatively minor gripes and gialli often rely on endings that are abrupt, arbitrary or outright baffling (even such richly atmospheric, slow-burn entries as ‘Who Saw Her Die?’ and ‘The House with the Laughing Windows’ register high scores on the WTF-o-meter. ‘All the Colours of the Dark’ sees its prolific and versatile director on good form and gives the achingly gorgeous Fenech one of her best-remembered roles.