Tracy Grant (Joanna Pacula)
mourns the recent death of her husband while maintaining her career as a book
editor. Meanwhile, a deranged man
(Francois Montagut) cuts up a series of victims, removes certain body parts,
and sends them to her. Intrepid
detective Mike (Tomas Arana) is on the case!
Lamberto Bava’s Body Puzzle (aka Misteria) is a late-cycle giallo which plays more like a Cinemax
erotic thriller (minus the eroticism) than a traditional giallo. Bava learned much from his father Mario, and,
if nothing else, the film is technically well-done. There are a variety of murders, but only one
of them is all that stylish or inventive.
Montagut spends the movie running around, knifing people practically in
full view of any number of witnesses, and staring blankly at the world around
him.
As the story begins, the killer
sits at a broken piano, fingering the dead keys to a recording we assume he
made well in the past. Like Don Music
the Muppet, he smashes his hands and head into the keys which no longer sing for
him like they used to. This is the first
indicator of the film’s dealing with the idea of the Self and the loss of
same. As the story unravels, we find out
that Tracy also had a brother named Rad (who also recently passed away), and
dead husband Abe and Rad may have known a certain unseemly character named
Tim. The removal of the victims’ body
parts is a way for the killer to reconstruct Abe, for himself and for Tracy. This becomes clear when it’s discovered that
Abe’s coffin and remains were mysteriously disinterred and absconded with. The killer’s physical identity is plain from
the outset. He doesn’t wear a black
trenchcoat and black gloves. If
anything, he disguises his face with a stocking, but not from the
audience. He is also without
personality, except in his murderous purpose.
The central question of the film is never “Who?” but “Why?” Clearly, the killer is hellbent on becoming
someone else to replace what he’s lost, but as a cinematic presence, he’s
simply some stabby guy.
The film also concerns itself
with the idea of the Observer and the Observed.
Bava makes stealthy and clever use of framing and reflections throughout
the film in this regard. As the killer
trails a potential victim through a mall, we see her stare into a number of
shop windows, her image reflected back at both she and us. At the same time, the camera frames any
number of mirrors and windows to show us the killer. She never catches sight of him, but we do,
and the way in which he is shown in these reflections (skewed, upside down,
etcetera) emphasizes his Otherness. Similarly,
Bava uses POV shots to provide a voyeuristic sense to the film. The killer watches Tracy at home through her
bedroom window and her glass front door.
Of course, the reverse angles of these shots portray his perspective. And yet, the POV is not always the
killer’s. Many of the tracking and
Steadicam shots are from his viewpoint, moving along behind bannisters or
clinging to the walls. These we
expect. The other type of POV shots are
his victims’. One example peers up at the
killer from underwater at a pool.
Another watches from inside a toilet as he lops a person’s hand off and
it drops into the water (okay, that’s not an actual person’s POV, but it
achieves the same effect). These are
shot from low angles, augmenting the killer as a figure in control and meant to
be feared. The undulating water distorts
his image, making a mundane-looking guy into an apparition. The director also wisely chooses to shoot
many of the reactions to these POV shots at odd angles, almost never straight
on. The Observed “feels” the eyes of the
Observer upon them, and the compositions reflect their unease.
There is also a hint of ideas
about class in Body Puzzle, and while
these are not central to the film, they do stand out the more one thinks about
them. Tracy comes from a moneyed
family. Mike is just a working class
cop, and, naturally, he finds himself attracted to her (her physical
desirability is matched by the wealth she possesses and doesn’t seem to pay
much mind to). Tracy can be seen as
either a free spirit who does what she wants in spite of her parents’ wishes or
because of them. In other words, she
“slums it” just to give them the finger, whether they know it or not. As she tells Mike, Abe was a sort of
gadabout. He could do most things he set
his hand to with some degree of facility, but he was not solid in the career
department. Further, Tracy’s father
disapproved of Abe, believing that he was only there for the money. Abe was a cocaine user, but, as his widow is
quick to point out, not a junkie, though he always knew where to score (and
note, she never states that she partakes herself). Abe’s past is delved into, revealing seedier,
lower class origins. He used to live in
a tiny portion of the flamboyantly gay Guy’s (Giovanni Lombardo Radice)
carriage house. After he married, he
would bring his flings, male and female, there.
The film posits Abe as both a product of the lower class and an
enthusiastic participant in it. The
stalking of the victims, the grimy, sweaty portrayal of the killer, and the way
he looks in at Tracy’s life signify that he is also of the lower class. He envies the Haves of the world, and this frustrates
him to murder. In that sense, his
activities are as much a method of revenge on the upper class as it is a desire
to enter or re-enter it. The gathering
of body parts is an offering as much as it’s an effigy, and it doesn’t quite
matter to him that he is simultaneously destroying that which he seems to desire
most.
For as slick as Body Puzzle is, it is equally
frustrating and tedious. The plot points
revolve around the killer stabbing someone and Tracy receiving a body
part. Mike takes some action which never
moves him any closer to catching the murderer.
The dialogue between the characters is lifeless and cliché, more like
small talk than anything progressing a narrative. There is one major twist toward the end which
is actually quite guileful in its revealing of how the audience has been
duped. Nonetheless, it also sends the
audience’s mind reeling back through the rest of the film to consider just how
sloppy and dimwitted the characters have all behaved up until this point. Granted, many gialli don’t have the most
coherent of solutions, but this one seems more brickheaded than the majority. By the obvious, facile climax, Mike barely
acknowledges Tracy’s presence (maybe he got all he wanted from her?), gets set
to move on to the next case, and waltzes off into the night to get some
much-needed sleep. Unfortunately, the
audience is already well ahead of him.
MVT: Bava’s technical
proficiency and what thoughtfulness he put into the film.
Make or Break: The classroom
scene. It’s a delightful standout in a film
that mostly sits down.
Score: 5/10