ALL THE COLORS OF THE DARK (1972)
I chose a fanciful image for this capsule, but I wouldn't want to cozen you with misleading information. This is not a vampire film. The man you see is simply fuck-witted. Sergio Martino's All the Colors of the Dark follows a girl recovering from a tragic car crash. It's tragic because she lost her unborn child, and ever since the hatchback ditchwipe (I don't even), she has had increasingly startling nightmares. After trying pills and hypnosis, she opts for the next obvious remedial treatment...a black mass! And it doesn't take much to convince her. She isn't, how you say, smart. None of the characters are particularly brainy. Or engaging.
An Italian/Spanish co-production, Colors is dressed up like a giallo, so I should have expected sterile cast profiles. With the partial exception of lead sex peach Edwige Fenech, it doesn't seem as though any of the actors want to be there. Their faces never move. The visuals are surreal, but dapper dream sequences are meaningless if you don't connect with the protagonist(s). I would suggest passing on this urbane stickler. Then again, I'm not big on Martino. Maybe you are. Maybe I don't know how to end this canvass of scrutiny. Maybe I should stop typing.
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