Celluloid Sounds - Street Law (1974)

The 1974 ‘Euro-crime’ film Street Law is one of my personal favourites of the cycle. I took a risk on it when I imported Blue Underground’s DVD release of the film back in 2006. But I’ve always found that particular distributor to be very reliable in terms of quality and interest. The film was my entry point into the violent, exciting, reactionary, and uncompromising world of the Italian ‘Euro-crime’ cycle and for this I owe the film a debt of gratitude. The director of the film was Enzo G. Castellari who was no stranger to the various cycles that constituted popular cinema in Italy in the 1960’s and 1970’s. Castellari’s early westerns were rather drab and predictable affairs, singularly unmemorable, and offered little promise of the films to come. The first hint of Castellari’s capabilities came in the war film Eagles over London (1969). He followed this with the dour and lacklustre giallo Cold Eyes of Fear (1971), which unsurprisingly remained his only entry in this cycle.  For the next few years Castellari concentrated on crime pictures, creating an impressive and consistent body of work which included High Crime (1973), The Big Racket (1976), The Heroin Busters (1977), and Day of the Cobra (1980).

Soundtrack Gallery - The Films of Dario Argento

The Bird with the Crystal Plumage - Capitol Records US LP Cover (1970)

 Cerberus US LP Cover (1981)

 Cinevox CD Cover (1998)

Cinevox CD Cover - Expanded Edition (2008) 
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 The Cat O' Nine Tails  - Dagored LP/CD Cover (1971/2000)

Celluloid Sounds - The Blood on Satan's Claw (1970)

From a purely personal perspective, the Tigon production of The Blood on Satan’s Claw (1970) represents the pinnacle of the British horror film. Of course an objectively dispassionate and critical eye is able to discern a myriad of plot deficiencies and narrative weaknesses, and one or two performances diminish the overall effect, but for me this is an insidiously perverse, eerie, and troubling piece of work, which evocatively renders the fears and superstitions of a rural 17th century community. In addition to its censor baiting visuals, and its various concessions to generic cinema, it is also a beautiful film about the English countryside. It is incredibly earthy, overflows with a rich autumnal palette, and possesses such a sense of pastoral isolation that at times the narrative takes on the mythical persona of a folk tale. The gorgeous Oxfordshire and Buckinghamshire countryside was strikingly shot by cinematographer Dick Bush, and the natural lighting brings an exquisite rustic charm to its tale of a village’s children succumbing to the influence of Satan. Like the best examples of film art The Blood on Satan’s Claw works on an allegorical level, and its dramatic clash between a group of children realising and celebrating their freedom and sexuality, and the forces of patriarchal adulthood that seek to contain it offers a prescient message for the age of permissiveness.

Celluloid Sounds - The Long Good Friday (1980)

A few years back I was asked by a fellow academic to decide upon my favourite British film of all time, and then write an appreciation of it, for a book that unfortunately never saw the light of day. I chose The Long Good Friday and as I think about it now, several years on, my decision would probably remain the same. My interest in British genre cinema goes far beyond horror; indeed at one time I had a greater interest in home-grown gangster, noir, and science-fiction films than I did with a lot of generically retrograde horror pictures. The challenge of a genre film is in providing something innovative and new within a restrictive narrative and iconographic environment; this is made even more challenging when that genre then has to be adjusted to the meta-narratives and cultural concerns of a national cinema. In some genres, such as the western, this is impossible. But the syntactic concerns of the American gangster film seem to fit the gritty social realism that marked large swathes of British cinema like a glove. The Long Good Friday is an innovative gangster picture that isn’t concerned with the rise of the criminal, but instead completely focuses on his fall, and it is a fall that is made supremely entertaining by Bob Hoskins’ apoplectic and bemused rage.

The Alternative Jukebox

For some time now I've been wanting to share my music library, so I recently decided to create a channel on Youtube dedicated to my weird and wonderful collection. The Alternative Jukebox thus exists as a document of this diverse range of music. I have quite a lot of film soundtracks, between 2-300 at the last count, and these would figure prominently on the channel. But my music tastes are wide and varied and for this project I didn't want to piegon hole myself exclusively to the realm of cinema. Hence the fact that I haven't decided to call it Celluloid...something or other! Included in this post is a preview post and a link to the channel. If you're feeling particularly supportive I'd be very happy to welcome you as a subscriber. And if you're feeling particularly generous you might like to share the channel with others who may be interested. Thanks in advance!

Click here for THE ALTERNATIVE JUKEBOX

Celluloid Sounds - Thief (1981)

As The Celluloid Highway appears to be undertaking something of a mini Michael Mann retrospective (and I stress the word mini, Mann has done little that has interested me after Manhunter [1986]) I thought it only appropriate to return to his debut picture Thief, and the contribution to it, of the German progressive electronic group Tangerine Dream. At this point in the bands history they were relative novices to the world of soundtrack composition. Their first soundtrack was for William Friedkin’s haunting and often beautiful, but ultimately misguided, remake of Clouzot’s Wages of Fear (1955) which went under the name Sorcerer (1977). Without a doubt the textured soundscapes of Tangerine Dream were a major creative highlight of the troubled production. In these early formative soundtrack years for the band their type of cosmic electronica was often used as a counterpoint to the unfolding narrative. Their cold and clinical tones would seem wholly inappropriate for the sweat and dirt of a poverty stricken area of South America, but time and again the music saves Sorcerer from becoming little more than a mild distraction.

Celluloid Sounds - Zombi 2 (1979)

This edition of the ever popular and world famous Celluloid Sounds will investigate the musical contribution of Fabio Frizzi and Giorgio Cascio to Lucio Fulci’s gore soaked zombie opus Zombie 2 (aka too many different names to list). For pure entertainment I don’t think Fulci ever eclipsed this film, and it remains a firm favourite of mine. Intellectually I find myself gravitating to more nuanced and layered productions such as Don’t Torture a Duckling (1972) or A Lizard in a Woman’s Skin (1971), but for sheer enjoyment then look no further than this wonderful film. Crucially it lacks the dream like and hallucinatory feel of his later horror films, and is subsequently able to tell its story with efficiency and economy. I often find that adjectives such as ‘dream like’ or ‘hallucinatory’ are normally used in Fulci’s cinema to explain away the terrible and shoddy lack of continuity, and to ultimately forgive incompetently plotted screenplays.



Zombi 2 is wonderfully free of such barriers, and it is also wonderfully free of the adolescent social commentary that so blighted George A. Romero’s infantile zombie pictures. Like the best horror films the primal terrors are created through music. Frizzi had contributed musical offerings (along with his frequent collaborators Franco Bixio and Vince Tempera) to several earlier Fulci productions, including Four of the Apocalypse (1975), Seven Black Notes (1977) and Silver Saddle (1978). Although Cascio gets a credit on Zombi 2 I’m not certain as to the extent of his contribution. I shall open this out to my tremendously knowledgeable readership, and hopefully someone can leave a comment telling us more about this man. Easily the most successful composition to grace the film is the eerie primal shuffle of the main title theme. The slow and plodding nature of this piece resonates with the laborious progress of resurrected corpses. It was clearly impressive enough to function not only as the title theme, but as a leitmotif whenever the zombie hordes appear.

One of the stylistic elements that binds a great number of the films outlawed in the United Kingdom as ‘Video Nasties’ is their use of electronic music. Undoubtedly this was partly attributable to the low budget nature of the production. But the use of synthetic instrumentation in so many of these films was a serendipitous side effect of a forced economy, and the results were often more impressive than the films themselves. The stark and clinical sounds only added to a sense of dislocation and alienation; a sense of the unnatural invading the natural world. One of the pleasures of Zombi 2 is its unabashed embracement of the voodoo culture upon which the myths of the zombie were born. This had become increasingly unpopular in the post 1968 Night of the Living Dead conception of the zombie. But Fulci and his collaborators were seemingly uninterested in using the zombie motif as an allegorical or metaphorical device. This is represented in musical terms by the deft combination of electronica and tribal drums.

Celluloid Sounds - Midnight Express (1978)

One of the very first soundtracks I purchased was Giorgio Moroder’s pulsating score for Alan Parker’s controversial and brutal prison drama Midnight Express. Midnight Express was the Italian’s first soundtrack, and at the time he was heavily embroiled in the late 70’s disco scene. It was a musical trend particularly receptive to Moroder’s brand of repetitive synth based pop. In addition to being a capable musician, Moroder was also an accomplished song writer and producer. His most notable successes his collaborations with Donna Summer and his first electro album From Here To Eternity, which saw the light of day in 1977. Moroder then might not have seemed the most logical choice to score a film involving a harrowing and nightmarish descent into the sadism and brutality of a Turkish prison. The film itself has had to answer to charges of racism over the years. Its representations of the Turkish authorities is unremittingly negative, and at times borders on the farce of caricature. But Moroder’s musical contribution stands in isolation to those arguments. The most famous piece is the throbbing electronica of The Chase, used wonderfully in the film when Billy flees from the authorities through the markets of Istanbul. The plodding repetition of the main beat creating a tension, paranoia and remorselessness that indicates that Billy is unable to escape his tortured destiny. When reduced to a radio friendly edit The Chase became a major hit single in almost every territory it was released in.

The other notable piece is the more understated and subtle Love's Theme - a track which forms the backdrop to a cathartic homosexual encounter between Billy and another inmate. Here Moroder shows a deft touch which compliments the on screen events to such an extent that it becomes one of the most emotive and touching moments in the film. Somehow the crisp modernity of Moroder’s production techniques and the spacious clarity of the music creates an ironic counterpoint to the abysmal conditions of the prison. It hints at a life outside of the concrete that entombs Billy, and eventually offers a hope of escape. The soundtrack was originally released on LP in October 1978 on Casablanca Records. Its importance was recognised by it’s victory at the Academy Awards in early 1979. On the strength of his musical involvement with Midnight Express, Moroder would go on to compose a number of soundtracks in the 1980’s - other credits include American Gigolo (1980), Cat People (1982), Scarface (1983), Superman III (1983), Electric Dreams (1984), The NeverEnding Story (1984) and Metropolis (1984).

TRACK LISTING
01 Chase
02 Love's Theme
03 (Theme from) Midnight Express
04 Istanbul Blues - vocal
05 The Wheel
06 Istanbul Opening
07 Cacophoney
08 (Theme from) Midnight Express - vocal

Celluloid Sounds - Halloween III: Season of the Witch (1982)

The regeneration and resurrection of Halloween III: Season of the Witch (1982) has been something of a personal crusade for me. It was the first Halloween franchise film I ever watched (yes, even before Carpenters 1978 original) and its impression on me has remained undiminished in the intervening twenty years. While I would by no means argue it is the best film in the franchise, that honour does comfortably belong to the first film, I’m firm in my conviction that it is the second best. Halloween III is possessed of an attitude that is deeply pessimistic and cynical. It is perhaps the most unremittingly grim and paranoid mainstream American horror film of the 1980’s. It highlights the ease with which a force of evil can gain purchase within America, if it manages to tick all the right capitalist boxes. It illustrates the manner in which the media can be used as a tool of propaganda, and indicates how malleable the adult population is when confronted with the demands of children. The film does have a number of serious shortcomings, not least of which is a rushed finale, and uninspired direction. Much of the tension and atmosphere instead is derived from a chilling electronic score courtesy of Alan Howarth and John Carpenter. I even find the much maligned advertising jingle for Silver Shamrock a great piece of music. Its repetition in the film an intended strategy to irritate both the characters and the audience. It does my heart good to have read a number of positive reviews for Halloween III over the last few weeks, and I feel that slowly but surely, its critical standing is on the ascent in the horror community. This edition of Celluloid Sounds is a celebration of what I consider to be one of the finest horror soundtracks of the 1980’s.

Celluloid Sounds - Giallo Morricone [Part 1]

I make no apologies for the fact that the legendary Italian composer Ennio Morricone will figure prominently in the landscape of Celluloid Sounds. I have been a great admirer (who isn’t?) of Mr. Morricone’s film music for many years and am excited at the opportunity to pay fulsome tribute to him on The Celluloid Highway. In the first of this two part series I will be casting my eye and ear over Morricone’s often wonderful contributions to the Italian giallo cycle. In the 1960’s Morricone rose to international prominence with his unique and often imitated compositions for Sergio Leone’s trilogy of ‘Dollars’ westerns featuring Clint Eastwood as the implacable unnamed anti-hero. Many more superb soundtracks for the so called ‘spaghetti’ westerns followed. Some of my personal favourites are Navajo Joe (1966), Face to Face (1967), Death Rides a Horse (1967), The Great Silence (1968) and Companeros (1970). Although public perception strongly associated the maestro with this genre, the 1960’s were in reality a decade of diversity for the prolific composer, as he hopped effortlessly from one genre to another. In 1970 Morricone was invited to compose the music for Dario Argento’s directorial debut The Bird with the Crystal Plumage, thus beginning a relationship with the giallo cycle that would encompass fourteen films. This opening instalment will investigate the first seven.



Dario Argento’s filmmaking debut has assumed a position of unparalleled prominence in discussions of the gialli cycle. It’s a position which I believe to be somewhat questionable. Between the release of Mario Bava’s The Girl Who Knew Too Much in 1963 and Argento’s film in 1970 well over twenty giallo films had seen the light of day. The difference of course was that none of these had set the international box office alight. Argento’s film was also more self-consciously indebted to the West German ‘Krimi’ cycle, which founds its inspiration from the pages of Edgar Wallace. Argento certainly had some refreshing stylistic tricks up his sleeve, and his playful attitude to gender maintained a sense of mystery that concluded in a fine twist. But the true importance of this films lies in the fact that it made the giallo a commercially viable genre. The soundtrack by Ennio Morricone has been released in a variety of editions over the years, the most prized of which perhaps is the Capital Records US LP released in 1970. My copy is the Cinevox CD release from October 2008 that includes a number of bonus tracks, the cover of which can be seen here.  This appears to be the most widely available edition of the soundtrack. The extract I have chosen is Piume di cristallo.

Morricone’s second gialli soundtrack of 1970 was for Luciano Ercoli’s distinctive tale of sordid blackmail and murder Forbidden Photos of a Lady Above Suspicion. Ercoli would go on to helm two more interesting gialli - Death Walks on High Heels (1971) and Death Walks at Midnight (1972) featuring the statuesque talents of Nieves Navarro aka Susan Scott. Forbidden Photos… was co-written by Ernesto Gastaldi whose numerous contributions to the cycle remain underappreciated and under researched. Morricone provides a much a jazzier score than The Bird with the Crystal Plumage, with a number of lounge music numbers that compliment the sleazy nature of the plot. This is not the easiest soundtrack to get hold of. The most complete edition would appear to be the Verita Note Japanese release from Oct 2006. The last time the soundtrack was issued on CD in Europe was Dagored’s 1999 edition. The extract I have chosen is Intermezzino Pop.

In 1971 Morricone would go on to compose the scores for no less than seven giallo productions. After the success of The Bird with the Crystal Plumage and the centrality of its music, it was only logical that Morricone should be invited to score Dario Argento’s second film The Cat O’ Nine Tails. In almost all key filmmaking departments Argento’s second gialli was less successful than his debut film, with the honourable exception of the music. Here Morricone develops nuanced and textured compositions which compliment themes of lost childhood innocence. Originally released on the Dagored label on LP in 1971 this is a very visible soundtrack thanks in part to the issuing of the single Ninna nanna in blu in Feb 1971. Dagored’s CD release in 2000 runs for 59:30 and contains three bonus tracks. This was trumped for completeness by the GDM CD Club October 2006 edition which runs for 1:13:33. The extract I have chosen is the title them Ninna nanna in blu.

Lucio Fulci only set foot within the gialli landscape on three occasions. The first of these was his distinctive London set thriller A Lizard in a Woman’s Skin, featuring the acting talents of Florinda Bolkan, Stanley Baker and Jean Sorel. With its fragmented and illusory structure and unreliable protagonist, Fulci’s film has a number of impressive moments of surreal dream-like beauty. The music compliments this mood excellently as Morricone utilises a more experimental and chaotic tone to reflect the subjective hysteria of the central character. The soundtrack first emerged on CD in 1996 and was issued by Screen Trax and contained fifteen tracks running to 1:01:18. This was trumped in 2000 by by Dagored who issued both a limited edition thirteen track LP and a nineteen track expanded CD, the latter of which runs for 1:13:40. The extract I have chosen is La Lucertola.

Cold Eyes of Fear marked the only occasion that director Enzo G. Castellari entered the realm of the giallo. Castellari was more famed for his westerns at this point and as the 1970’s wore on would become strongly associated with the poliziotesschi cycle with a series of high octane action movies such as Street Law (1974) and The Big Racket (1975). This is another London set gialli, and that is perhaps the most distinctive thing about it. This is a tired and uninspired film, with a host of tepid performances, and a strange lack of energy uncommon for Castellari. The soundtrack is likewise highly divisive. Morricone opts for a more avant-garde approach and the film lacks a strong central theme. I don’t mind admitting this is my least favourite Morricone giallo score. Like the previous soundtrack Dagored released this on both a limited edition LP and CD in November 2000. The difference here being that both LP and CD are identical, featuring sixteen tracks running to 45:04. Music from Cold Eyes of Fear had appeared earlier on Point Records 1996 CD which paired it with selections from The Fifth Cord (1971). The extract I have chosen is Seguita.

The beautifully titled Black Belly of the Tarantula was writer/director Paolo Cavara’s only giallo entry. Cavara achieved notoriety in the early 1960’s as one of the co-directors of Mondo Cane (1962), but in Black Belly… he creates a stylish and tense film that benefits tremendously from the fine performance of Giancarlo Giannini, and a profusion of gorgeous actresses that include Claudine Auger, Barbara Bouchet and Barbara Bach. All of whom would achieve fame as Bond girls. The killers novel approach which involves paralysing the victims with a poisoned needle inserted in their necks, before stabbing them to death, gives the film a unique feel which Morricone’s music easily matches. This is a very stylish score and one of Morricone’s best. For many years the soundtrack was only available as part of the CAM labels 1992 release which paired it up with I Malamondo (1964). The CD was weighted in the latter’s favour, with Black Belly only managing eight tracks to I Malamondo’s nineteen. This was readdressed in June 2007 with Digitmovies fifteen track CD which ran for 57:36. The extract I have chosen is Un uomo si e'dimesso.

The Fifth Cord marked the only occasion that Franco Nero would appear in a giallo. He plays alcoholic journalist Andrea Bild who is forced to begin his own murder investigation in order to both clear his name and save his life. The director was Luigi Bazzoni who would go on to make the offbeat and peculiar gialli Footprints (1975) with Florinda Bolkan. The Fifth Cord is a much more conventional offering, though it achieves moments of beauty thanks to the exceptional cinematography of Vittorio Storaro and of course the wonderfully sleazy lounge music of Mr. Morricone. Music from this film first saw the light of day on Point Records 1996 CD which paired it with Cold Eyes of Fear. In September 2001 the film got a singular release by Dagored who put out a 24 track CD which ran for 58:07. An enhanced version featuring 31 tracks and running for 1:14:01 was released in Japan on the Verita Note label. The extract I have chosen is Trafelato.

Celluloid Sounds - Phenomena (1985)

I’ve always considered the soundtrack of Dario Argento’s Phenomena to be one of its most controversial aspects. The light textures and insinuating melodies of Ennio Morricone’s contributions to Argento’s early gialli, had rapidly made way for the grandiose and progressive rock inflected rhythms of Goblin. In the 1980’s Goblin’s approach took on a more synthetic and electronic sound which culminated in their offerings to the Phenomena soundtrack. The major difference here though was Argento’s decision too include heavy rock songs by Iron Maiden, Andi Sex Gang, and Motorhead. The result of their inclusion in the film was a damaging reduction in any atmosphere Argento was attempting to construct. On a recent viewing of the film I found these moments to be laughable and embarrassing. However if listened too in isolation the original soundtrack to Phenomena is very good indeed. The resounding highlight of the soundtrack however doesn’t come from Goblin, but from Bill Wyman and Terry Taylor’s marvellously spooky Valley.

01 Phenomena - Claudio Simonetti

02 Flash of the Blade - Iron Maiden

03 Jennifer - Goblin

04 The Quick and the Dead - Andi Sex Gang

05 You Don't Know Me - Andi Sex Gang

06 The Wind - Goblin

07 Valley - Bill Wyman and Terry Taylor

08 Locomotive - Motorhead

09 Jennifer's Friends - Goblin

10 The Maggots - Simon Boswell

11 The Naked and the Dead - Andi Sex Gang

In 1997 a second edition of the Phenomena soundtrack was released featuring the Goblin only instrumental material;

01 Phenomena

02 Jennifer

03 The Wind

04 Sleepwalking

05 Jennifer's Friends

06 Phenomena (Film Version 1)

07 Phenomena (Film Version 2)

08 Phenomena (Piano Solo - Film Version 3)

09 Sleepwalking (Alternate Version)

10 The Wind (Film Version - Suite 2)

11 The Wind ("Insects" - Film Version Suite 2)

12 Jennifer's Friends (Alternate Version)

13 Jennifer (End Titles)

14 The Monster Child (Bonus Track)

15 Phenomena (Video Clip Version - Bonus Track 2)

16 Phenomena (Alternate Version - Bonus Track 3)