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Rating: A peculiar director, initiator of the giallo and modern thriller in Italy, both craftsman and visionary, creator of sublime atmosphere before grand guignol low blows, master in the use of colors, extraordinary cinematographer, while not being part of that extraordinary and unrepeatable elite of masters who, throughout the '60s, thrilled (or at least almost always, see the famous incident of the sensational boos at L'Avventura) and swept the major European festivals, bringing cinema to new avant-garde narrative and auteur levels, it has long been known that Mario Bava was one of the most original, influential, and interesting Italian filmmakers. But it is a paradox how he is still today a little-known name - or rather, not deeply explored - in Italy if not by the (not so vast) circle of enthusiasts; it is rather common to still hear him recognized simply as "the one whose film inspired Black Sabbath". Yet, always extremely underrated, Bava was "robbed" even by the most celebrated of our directors: it is famous the case of how Fellini took inspiration from the little girl (actually a boy) in Operazione Paura for his splendid and famous Toby Dammit.
On how much, then, even Dario Argento was an unacknowledged debtor to him, it is best to leave it unsaid.
I could list the various more memorable titles of Bava's filmography, but I want to talk about one of those less known which are, in truth, closer to my heart. Although there are other masterpieces by the San Remo director, Il Rosso Segno della Follia is undoubtedly his work that, over time (the first many years ago, the last yesterday after a recent home video reissue), I have often rewatched with more enjoyment on my part. Obviously, Bava (who, like his colleague Fulci, experimented with genres and genres, anyway) was a master of horror and, therefore, at a superficial glance, one might believe his prerogative was to create fear and unease. And he did, few films can be as unsettling as Operazione Paura, or as the magnificent La goccia d'acqua, the magnificent third episode of I Tre Volti della Paura (Black Sabbath, indeed). But the black humor he injected into his works was brilliant and abundant, in much of his production.
In this sense, Il Rosso Segno della Follia, before the seminal slasher of Reazione a Catena, represents almost the pinnacle of black comedy by the director of La Maschera del Demonio.
Particularly brilliant is the character of Laura Betti, the sadistic and unforgettable wife of the protagonist John Harrington, who even after he kills her, will not stop tormenting him in the form of a spirit as insidious as ever (first appearing and interacting with everyone but him, then only visible to her husband). The relationship between them is one of the most original ever remembered between husband and wife, victim and perpetrator.
The film is a sadistic and psychoanalytical game with turns now Buñuelian now Hitchcockian, and, despite the flaws probably due to the scarcity of resources, Bava's mastery is once again exceedingly evident. As is the brilliance of his self-irony, such as when he has the protagonist watch his I Tre Volti della Paura, only to then have him say he doesn't like horror cinema, because "reality is much scarier". Bava himself is having fun. Just as when he showed a sneering and mocking Boris Karloff in the "meta-cinematic" ending of the aforementioned '63 episodic film.
Even if, as I said, it cannot be counted among the director's absolute best films, Hatchet for the Honeymoon (the much more appropriate international title) is a small, genuine, and precious gem of underground cinema. And an example, setting aside the watered-down definition of b-movie, of what you might desire for spending less than ninety minutes of splendid entertainment.
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