IN THE FOLDS OF THE FLESH

As far as gialli go, Sergio Bergonzelli's 1970 effort, IN THE FOLDS OF THE FLESH, is true bottom of the barrel material. Limp-dicked and poorly written, with more nonsensical twists and turns than the entire genre combined, IN THE FOLDS OF THE FLESH is, hands down, the single most infuriating giallo ever made. One expects a certain degree of "what the fuckitude" from a giallo but this film pushes nonsense to a whole new level. The story is credited to three men - one of whom was the director - and it's easy to see that each of the three men wanted to make a completely different film. IN THE FOLDS OF THE FLESH is, in varying degrees, a slasher film, a tale of blackmail, a sex film, nazisploitation, a comedy, and a giallo. Hard to believe that with all that going for it, it still fails to be even remotely interesting.


Convoluted doesn't even begin to summarize the story here. I'm not going to even try and play this straight. Plot spoilers ahead.


Fernando Sancho in In The Folds Of The Flesh

We open with a shot of a decapitated corpse. The head on the floor belongs to Andre, the owner of the estate we're in as well as the leader of an organized blackmail ring. A convict on the run from the law stumbles across Lucille, the governess, burying the body in the garden just before he's nabbed by the cops. Years later, Lucille is still living in the estate with her son, Colin, and the dead man's daughter, Falesse, now the heir to his substantial wealth. Colin and Falesse are lovers, both permanently twisted by the events of that night. When an old acquaintance of Falesse's father shows up - proclaiming himself a "real Casanova" and pawing Falesse right from the get-go - everyone is naturally on edge. Except for Falesse. She screws him just a few hours later and then cuts his head off when he pulls off her wig. Lucille and Colin dissolve the body in acid. But then another friend of the family comes calling. Guess what happens to him.


In The Folds Of The Flesh

And as if things weren't busy enough at the house, the convict shows up, gun in hand, looking to blackmail Lucille for the murder committed years ago. He makes them dig up the entire garden but no remains of a body can be found - except for a dog that Colin strangled earlier. The convict shoots one of family pets - vultures, naturally - and rapes both the women. Lucille offs him using cyanide capsules and a warm bath - a trick she learned while watching her mother and friends die in a concentration camp shower decades ago.


Sergio Bergonzelli's In The Folds Of The Flesh

Wait! We're not done yet! ANOTHER MAN comes to visit the estate. This time the man claims to be Andre himself. The night of his supposed murder, he had narrowly escaped an assassination attempt and decided to go on the run. But if he's still alive who was killed that night 13 years ago? And if the giggly - but pretty damned cute - nutjob in the asylum is really his daughter then who is the girl living in the house? And what happened to Lucille's daughter, Esther? Thankfully, there's a shrink around to sort it all out. But even after the dead man's identity is revealed and the truth about Falesse and Esther comes out, there's still even more plot twists... and not a damned one of them makes any sense whatsoever.


Eleonora Rossi in In The Folds Of The Flesh

IN THE FOLDS OF THE FLESH is often referred to as "sleazy" but, unless your standards remain rooted in the 1960s, you're likely to be disappointed - both Fulci's THE NEW YORK RIPPER and Poiselli's DELIRIUM eat this for breakfast. The violence is all depicted offscreen and nudity remains sparce - except for all the full frontal shots in the concentration camp flashback. For a film that so desperately wants to be Eurotrash, to not even get that right is a head scratcher. What you're left with is 87 minutes of absolute nonsense that even the most die-hard giallo fan will find hard to swallow. This is not a good movie - unless you're idea of a "good movie" is really a "bad movie". If that's the case, it'll be right at home next to your copy of BURIAL GROUND.


Fucking terrible.