Autopsy (1975)

Mimsy Farmer plays Simona, a student of pathology, who begins to suspect that a string of recent suicides (blamed on sunspots by the media) may, in fact, be homicides. Matters take a downturn for Simona when she begins experiencing grotesque hallucinations which puts a strain on her future career as a pathologist as well as her relationship with her boyfriend, Edgar (Ray Lovelock). After her father’s plucky mistress, Betty (Gaby Wagner), turns up dead of an apparent suicide, she is convinced there is some kind of conspiracy. Betty’s brother, Father Paul (Barry Primus), joins Simona in her search for a killer that might not even exist.

Armando Crispino (The Dead are Alive) directs this tense, hallucinatory, and unsettling giallo. The tension and dread boil over in Autopsy and the viewer gets the sense that death is everywhere. The film is profoundly trashy (with hints of necrophilia and other various perversions) but with yet another brilliant score by Ennio Morricone and precise cinematography by Carlo Carlini (Virgin Terror, Seven Deaths in the Cat’s Eye), Autopsy is raised above its willingness to wallow in the muck.

Barry Primus gives the viewer their money’s worth with his wild portrayal of the rageaholic and epileptic Father Paul. Ray Lovelock of Let Sleeping Corpses Lie and Murder Rock is very cool as Edgar, Simona’s very understanding (he has a porn slide collection) boyfriend. Keep an eye out for Ernesto Colli (Torso) as the bewilderingly creepy morgue attendant, Ivo. The film may run a little long but it’s worth it, even if just for the scene where Farmer finally snaps on this guy.

Of course, the star of the show, Mimsy Farmer, gives us another of her grand, yet flawed, performances. Farmer is truly is an acquired taste and her trademarks (her shrillness, that darn pouty look) can get annoying. However, it’s easy to forgive (and even grow fondness for) Farmer, the perpetually braless staple of so many great Italian horror flicks: The Perfume of the Lady in Black, Four Flies on Grey Velvet, and Lucio Fulci’s The Black Cat, just to name a few.

Autopsy’s disarming credit sequence of the sun, heat, sounds of crying, moaning, and screaming leads right into an excellent montage of suicides utilizing various means (drowning, razor blades, submachine gun, etc.). I would be lying if I said the film keeps up this intensity throughout but how could it without being an endless stream of people offing themselves? Instead, the opening grabs the viewer’s attention and prepares you (somewhat) for a 100 minute stretch of weirdness. Unfortunately for splatter enthusiasts, even the bountiful gore in the first third of the film takes a backseat to the oppressive mood of Autopsy.

Autopsy is a film that delivers its brooding theme of death, insanity, and mystery with change to spare, making it easy for recommendation to giallo fans. Sure, the killer may not be wearing black gloves this time around but the film has its share of priestly malfeasance and crazy twists to make it a solid entry in the genre. Hell, there’s even a rushed and confusing explanation behind the killer’s motive which should make fans of the yellow films feel right at home.