turkey twister.

Delirium: Photos Of Gioia (1987)
Dir: Lamberto Bava
Cast: Serena Grandi, Daria Nicolodi, Vanni Corbellini, Karl Zinny, Lino Salemme, Sabrina (yes the one that sang 'Boys -Summertime Love' and the Stock, Aitken and Waterman classic 'All Of Me') Salerno, David Brandon, Capucine and George 'The Body' Eastman.

''a woman's anger can be very bad''

Frighteningly large breasted Former whore, dodgy model and porn star, Gioia (Grandi, the big faced star of such quality movies as Anthropophagous: The Beast, Angelina: Lady of the Night and Frivolous Lola), has finally hit the big time with the publication of her cutting edge 'fashion' magazine, the aptly titled Pussycat.

To celebrate, Gioia has hired her hunky photographer brother Tony (Corbellini whom you may recognise from his star turn as Gualtiero Di San Casciano in the fantastic Teevee miniseries Black Arrow....or maybe not) and his camp as pants assistant, Roberto (Brandon from, um, Beyond Dark) to reshoot some of the risque images that made her famous but using a hot new model (in both senses of the word).

Your mum last Saturday night.

Everything goes swimmingly (and I must admit, quite sexily in a kinda eighties way) and the shoot wraps without a hitch. Unfortunately, shortly after leaving Gioia's villa little miss model (we'll call her Babs) is brutally (and not to mention bloodily) slain with a rusty pitch fork.

Ouch.

Luckily (for the police, not the model, obviously) this wicked act is witnessed by Gioia's wheelchair bound young neighbour (and part time stalker) Mark (Zinny, long faced star of Bava's Demons and Graveyard Disturbance) thru his telescope.

That he just happens to have had trained on the swimming pool all day.

Dirty wee sod.

Pout.

He immediately phones Gioia -rather than the police- with the news (tho' it's a surprise that he can find the telephone under the pile of crusty tissues in his room), but our busty heroine, thinking it's just another of Mark's pervy phonecalls (he doesn't get out much) hangs up on him.

Thinking nothing more of it Gioia goes back to work preparing the next big issue (of Pussycat magazine, not the paper that the homeless sell) and trying to contact Babs to offer her another job (this time advertising the cotton undies for the Lidl catalogue no doubt).

With her phone ringing out constantly and no-one having seen her for weeks, Gioia assumes that poor old Babs is on holiday, but this idea is cruelly shattered when her body turns up behind some bins and an envelope arrives at the 'Pussycat' office, containing photographs of the murdered model posed in front of a huge blow up piccie of our Gioia.

"Eye hen!"

From then on it's murder after murder as more and more models on the Pussycat books start turning up dead (and in poses that'd make a whore -or your mum- blush) and it's left to police inspector Corsi (Salemme, another refugee from Graveyard Disturbance and latterly a star of The Passion of the Christ) to find this mammary minded mentalist before it's too late.

For what I have no idea, but you have to admit it sounds good.

Corsi is convinced that the killer must be harboring a grudge against Gioia (no shit) and is probably someone very close.

But who?

Could it be mustachioed man-breasted Alex? (genre god Eastman in a small but perfectly formed cameo that involves him having soapy sex with Grandi in a bathtub) or is it kooky Evelyn? (Nicolodi, obviously slumming it to pay for Asia's new ballet shoes or something).

Possibly not, so how about Roberto who's been seen cruising around the streets at night looking for a nice bit of manarse (and we all know that homosexuality equals evilness) or is it Mark, driven insane by the constant night time visits by Mother Fist and her five beautiful young daughters?

And don't forget Gioia's bitchy lesbian publishing rival Flora (Capucine from Fellini's Satyricon) who's trying to get her boney old lady fingers into both Gioia's magazine and her silky undies.

Or is it someone else?

And, let's be honest here, do we really care?

Manly.

Once seen, never forgotten (and bit like when you catch your parents having sex) Lamberto Bava's Delirium plays out like some bastard beast-child that sprung from the (sweaty yet gloriously smooth and tanned) loins of Jackie Collins after a particularly heaving drink and drugs session with Lucio Fulci's pet dog.

Whose name I believe was Pascal.

Originally conceived as a star vehicle for one time 'sexiest woman in Italy' Serena Grandi (at that point more famous for her 39D boobs than any of her acting roles), Delirium was written to showcase her fantastic acting range as well as her pendulous breasts and peachy arse, therefore mixing emotional, heart felt drama with a bit of soft core nudity (and lots of blood).

Oh, that and the fact that the killer (due to some freaky medical condition that is never explained) sees all his victims as tho' they have huge paper mache comedy heads.

No, really.

For no reason (other than the joke shop next door to the studio was having a closing down sale) the murderer sees one of his victims with a giant cyclops face (and a nasty seventies bun hairstyle a wee bit like your gran) and, in a scene that will live in cinema as a perfect example of celluloid genius long after you and I have passed on, sees another as having a big furry bee head.

Oh and scarily pointed breasts, but I think those are real.

I don't know what's freakier,
the big bee head or the Snoopy shaped breast.

But it's these scenes of bloodletting, bizarro bonces and bouncing breasts that are the films saving grace, because if it wasn't for them breaking the arse numbing tedium of the movie every five minutes you'd have to concentrate on what passes as the plot.

You would (like you'd have a choice):
Brandi today.

If, however you manage to make it to the movies end then you'll be happy to know that it climaxes (oooerrr) with a dribbling man cutting off Grandi's flimsy garments whilst pervily whispering ''I want to see you in the nude, one last time''.

And after the amount of times she's flashed her (slightly soiled) wares during the proceeding ninety minutes the promise of no more nudity seems like a godsend.