When the man responsible for some of the best giallos ever made directs a movie simply titled Giallo, then I suppose one might reasonably expect him to fully embrace the conventions of the genre (many of which he was instrumental in establishing). Instead, Argento only loosely follows the giallo format, the grimy approach he adopts being more akin to the recent US 'torture porn' trend, a fact that has unsurprisingly caused something of a critical backlash from fans of Italian horror.
But although Giallo clearly doesn't warrant its title, and, devoid of his usual visual flair and labyrinthine storytelling, is far from the director's best work, neither is it totally deserving of the drubbing it has received.
The film moves along briskly enough, switching regularly between crime and police procedure to ensure that boredom never sets in; the hero cop-with-a-dark-past, Enzo Avolfi, is played with conviction by Adrien Brody; Emmanuelle Seigner makes for a decent enough side-kick; the rather lovely Elsa Pataky is required only to look scared and beautiful, but does so convincingly; and the strangely familiar killer is delightfully daft—an ugly, dummy-sucking, bandana-wearing taxi-driver with yellow skin (caused by a dose of Hepatitis C, inherited from his junkie mother) and a hatred of all things beautiful.
Argento also finds time for a few seriously nasty moments, including a graphic hammer to the skull scene, a nasty bit of finger pruning (resulting in plenty of pumping blood), and a wince-inducing moment involving shards of broken glass.
Whilst it is true that Argento's typical sense of style might be lacking on this occasion, there is still enough to enjoy about this film to make it worth a go—after all, even Argento at his worst is better than many other directors at their best.
