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Lisa and the Devil (1974). This entry from horror maestro Mario Bava was a discombobulated nightmare, lush and awkward. Radiant colors commingle with an overzealous cacophony of shot composure, leading astray the viewer's capacity to see that this story is really going nowhere. Maybe that's the horror of it, lives ambling through a loosely structured sense of being, bumbling all the way in their transport through absurdity, the end as horrible as the beginning. Telly Savalas steals the show as a creepy, puppet-carrying menace whose toxic smile and groping dialog portend a grim reality. The rest of the cast here are perfectly immaterial as their characters are as shallow as their intelligence. Though it drags a time or two, with a few scenes that could have happily diced, the result is still a wonderful experience, much like viewing a painting so beautiful that its dreadful meaning goes unnoticed. Merci beaucoup.
Genruk
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Fate is my mistress, mother of the cruel abomination that is hope.
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