The House with Laughing Windows (Pupi Avati, 1976)
Contrary to the belief of some giallo film experts, the genre’s golden era had long passed by the time Dario Argento released his seminal film Deep Red (1975). There was no revival of the giallo genre as his classic debut The Bird with the Crystal Plumage (1971) had achieved. Similarly, when the director returned to the genre after several years with his masterpiece Tenebrae (1982), that also failed to reignite the genre as it had mostly been absorbed across the Atlantic with the slasher film. In your humble host’s opinion, the quality of giallo films produced between this period was a nadir for the genre. Gone were the jet-set locations, the glamorous women and the stylish ‘70s fashions.
These were succeeded by some of the genre’s most notorious and poorly made films. Examples include The Bloodsucker Leads the Dance (1975), The Sister of Ursula (1978) and the infamous Giallo in Venice (1979). They exemplified the sleaze and ineptitude that became the norm for the genre. However, there were notable exceptions. The House with the Laughing Windows (1976), directed by the unfortunately named Pupi Avati, is perhaps the greatest standout and one of the best in the genre.
Art restorer Stefano (Lino Capolicchio) is commissioned by Solmi (Bob Tonelli), the diminutive mayor of a provincial village, to repair and complete an unfinished church fresco. The artwork was commissioned by the long-serving parish priest Don Orsi (Eugene Walter) to depict the Martyrdom of St Sebastian. Buono Legnani (Tonino Corazzari), a revered and eccentric local artist would be the person appointed the task of painting the fresco. Unfortunately, the painter had mysteriously passed away before completing it. Mayor Solmi believes the completion and restoration of it will bring much-needed tourism to the area and help boost its economy. Upon seeing the fresco, Stefan becomes instantly obsessed with it and working immediately,
The village has endured significant hardship since World War II. Its lagoon remains polluted decades after the conflict. Don Orsi’s church was also severely affected. It was converted into a SS barracks during the war and subsequently used as a makeshift morgue. The trauma of war continues to have a profound impact on the community. The village appears to be frozen in time, with few motor vehicles and residents wearing vintage clothing. Above all, they are fearful of the past.
Upon checking into the local hotel, Stefano receives a threatening phone call instructing him to abandon his work on the fresco and leave the village. He dismisses the threat as a prank. He is enjoying the advances of the local schoolteacher, who also happens to be the village bike. Stefano briefly meets Antonio Mazza (Giulio Pizzirani), an old friend who has also relocated to the village and is assisting with the lagoon’s clean-up. Mazza had recommended Stefano to Mayor Solmi to restore the church fresco. However, he now regrets bringing his friend to the village after learning more about Legnani’s depraved past and horrific inspirations in creating his paintings. With prying eyes and eavesdroppers, it is difficult for Mazza to disclose everything he can to his friend.
After being invited to restaurant owner Poppi’s (Andrea Matteuzzi) house, Stefano sees an entire room’s worth of Legnani’s paintings. This only makes the our protagonist even more fascinated by the insane artist’s life. While there, Mazza calls Stefano urging him to come and see him. He wants to tell Stefano everything. Outside Mazza’s apartment, Stefano witnesses his friend fall to his death. A silhouetted figure can be seen from Mazza’s room.
Stefano’s hotel concierge overhears the latest prank call to him and becomes alarmed. She fabricates a story about needing Stefano’s room for another guest. Fortunately, Don Orsi has arranged accommodation for the young man in a large villa owned by an elderly paraplegic woman who lives alone. It is rumoured she was made an invalid from a venereal disease. Don Orsi’s mouse-eating assistant Lidio (Pietro Brambilla) guides Stefano to the villa. Laura (Pina Borione), the lonely woman, is delighted to have another person in her home. In the attic of the villa, Stefano discovers an old tape recorder. The tape plays Legnani’s insane ramblings which are heard over the sepia-toned opening sequence of the film, where an unnamed man is hung by his arms and brutally stabbed multiple times.
"The colours, my colours, flow in my veins. They are sweet, my colours, sweet as Autumn, hot as blood, pure as syphilis, and enter into the eyes, infecting all." — Buono Legnani.
Evidently, Stefano seems to have gotten over Mazza’s death (murder?) and seems unfazed from the disturbing tape recording relatively quickly, as he’s already making a late night booty call with the school teacher. To his surprise, the beautiful young brunette woman, who he briefly met on the ferry when he first arrived at the village, opens the front door. Francesca (Francesca Marciano) tells the randy art restorer that the school teacher he came to visit had been transferred, and that she is her replacement, Not sure which is more troubling about Francesca: her inviting a horny stranger into her home in the wee late hours, or her having a refrigerator filled with snails crawling about in it. She cheekily asks Stefano if he knows how to cook them. The newcomers develop a romantic relationship. Out with the old; in with the new.
This is an appropriate point to conclude the plot of the film without delving into spoilers. While The House with Laughing Windows is half a century old, it’s still a relatively obscurity today; and therefore, a new discovery for many. Its cult status has begun growing in recent years, however. Not only ought it be considered amongst the best gialli ever produced, but it merits the attention of serious cinephiles as an important film in '70s Italian cinema. Therefore, Don Orsi would concur, spoilers would indeed be a cardinal sin.
Pupi Avati’s thriller may adhere to some conventions of the giallo genre, but it also shares significant similarities with the folk-horror sub-genre; specifically Robin Hardy’s British horror classic The Wicker Man (1973). For instance, Capolicchio’s character Stefano falls into a similar spiralling trap as Woodward’s Sergeant Howie as a stranger in a strange land. Both films featuring an isolated community populated by eccentric individuals is another shared characteristic. There is also the daylight horror aspect to both; which are achieved rather masterfully.
The palpable sense of dread in The House with Laughing Windows is undoubtedly its greatest strength. This is achieved through Avati’s increasingly unnerving plot juxtaposed with our protagonists becoming increasingly frightened along the way. The atmosphere becomes electric. Amedeo Tommassi’s haunting piano score further enhances the fear factor; particularly during the third act where events become increasingly sinister.
The term ‘slow-burn’ may have negative connotations when describing the pacing of film’s today, but The House with Laughing Windows justifiably earns this label as Avati’s atmosphere wouldn’t have been so successful without its gradual pacing and respecting the audience to soak in the atmosphere.
Overall, The House with Laughing Windows has consistently been one of the giallo genre’s most underappreciated films. This may have been due to the absence of an English dub and accurately translated subtitles; unlike the vast majority of the more popular titles. Thankfully, that’s a problem of the fast as more widely available today.
The House with Laughing Windows is now available in 4K UHD (and no longer another wish list item) in the US via Arrow Video and is also available in the same format via Shameless Films.
Highly recommended for anyone with an interest in giallo, folk-horror or creepy mystery thrillers.
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