This is one of the worst gothic mansion-set gialli. There are many such films which are far more deficient in certain aspects; here, the location is great, the acting is passable and the staging and cinematography are generally decent. However, the film is utterly devoid of anything whatsoever to make it noteworthy. Unless you count its overwhelming blandness, which I don't.

A year after the death of his wife Helen, which he believes happened after he threw her from a balcony while blackout drunk, Oliver Bromfield returns to his country mansion with his new wife, Ruth, in tow. Oliver's widowed stepmother, who is in love with him, and his loner stepsister, who was in love with Helen, offer a welcome that could be generously described as 'cool' to the lovebirds. Cracks show in the marriage almost immediately, as Oliver suffers from nightmares about his wife's death, and Ruth suspects that the official line, that Helen fell after suffering a dizzy spell, may not be true. After a loooong build up, we get a few murders towards the end, followed by the least-surprising reveal of all time. And that's your lot.

The aforementioned reveal really does take the breath away. (Prepare for spoilers.) In some ways it did surprise me, because having the most obvious suspect turn out to be the killer (seriously, if you've made a casual guess as to their identity based on the above synopsis, you're correct)  is definitely an unusual approach to a mystery film. There isn't even an ulterior or alternate motive offered, which would retroactively imbue what we've seen with some sort of depth and hitherto obscured meaning; it's all so mind-numbingly straightforward. The first dialogue scene in the film, which is between Oliver and his horny stepmom, takes place directly after his wife's funeral and contains all the material you'll need to construct the key which unlocks this mystery. (This scene was excised from the Spanish version, which would at least heighten the chances of the running time hitting double digits before the viewer knows all.) 

I did briefly consider whether this was a clever double-bluff, a la Eyeball's approach of offering up every single character as a suspect at one point or another, but I genuinely don't think that was the case. One neat touch which I did like was the roll-call of still images of the remaining suspects after each murder (we begin with 5, and end up with 3). The killer is slap bang in the middle of this list every time. A couple of characters-Oliver's new wife Ruth, and the doctor who certified Helen's death an accident-aren't included in the list of suspects, which would have made their being the guilty party/parties a neat twist, with the stylistic flourish of the stills playing an active role in the film's presentation, and obfuscation, of the mystery. But no such luck. The killer is right there, hiding in plain sight. Or rather, acting extremely suspiciously in plain sight, and being proffered as one of the main suspects by the filmmakers. 

Of course, there's a chance that we were meant to pick up on Ruth and the doctor's exclusion from the list of suspects, which would back up the theory of the solution being an attempt to bamboozle the audience into overlooking the most obvious suspect. I myself suspect, however, that I'm giving them altogether too much credit with this line of theorising.

To briefly expound on more of the film's flaws, Ruth's suspicions regarding her husband develop literally overnight, after he mumbles incoherently in his sleep while having a nightmare. (It is refreshing to have the tormented soul struggling with the boundaries of reality being a male character; most housebound horrors favour females for such roles.) She immediately decides that he's lying about his ex's death, and takes off to see the local doctor. He, showing shockingly little disregard for confidentiality, or his licence, admits to having falsified the death report, which claimed that Helen had suffered from regular dizzy spells in the run up to her death. This lazy scene, apart from a few brief conversations Ruth has with the gardener and housekeeper, account for the sum total of the investigative angle of the film. It also precludes Ruth and the doc from having being in league together (although it doesn't absolve them separately; we know the doctor's been complicit in covering up a murder-even if he thinks he's just protecting Oliver-and Ruth's 'investigation' could be designed to throw fresh suspicion on her husband, whose estate she's conveniently in prime position to inherit). 

There's occasional nudity, which is often provided by garishly-lit body doubles, and some classic lesbianism-as-imagined-by-a-man. There's some of the worst poor man's process (where actors are filmed in a stationary car which is rocked slightly to simulate movement) you've ever seen. The murders aren't anything special, nor is the soundtrack. In fact, as stated above, nothing is special. You spend most of the running time searching for hidden meaning or hidden depths, only for the end reveal to confirm that yes, the film is actually that straightforward. Maybe that's the biggest twist of all, or a satire on how we continually search for deeper meaning in life, only to ignore its nuts and bolts. 

Maybe it's not though; maybe it's just a pretty shit giallo.

PS Jose Larraz, who was responsible for some of the most atmospheric housebound horror films of the 70s, had a hand in the script. Given his films' preference for style and atmosphere over plot, it might have made sense for him to direct this, given the lack of all three in the end product. Or maybe someone who can construct plots could have written it.

This is arguably one of the most influential films ever made. If it isn't, it's one of the most prescient, in its anticipation of cinematic trends. The film itself is fun, disposable fluff, falling far, far beneath the heights Mario Bava was capable of attaining. But, by offering up a blueprint for the body count film, and a twenty minute glimpse at what would come to be known as the slasher movie, it's secured its place in film history. Of course, given that Bay of Blood is a low budget Italian film, it's difficult to gauge its exact level of influence, as many people who ostensibly copied it may never have even heard of the film. Still, I'd be extremely surprised if no-one on the creative team behind, say, Friday the 13th Part 2 had seen it by the time of production (despite their claims to the contrary).

The film opens with a double murder, that of a wheelchair-bound countess by her husband (staged to seem like a suicide), and that of the husband by an unseen assailant. The murdered couple lived in a mansion overlooking a secluded bay, which has been the subject of a bid from a property developer. A group of four horny teens (/young adults) arrive at the mansion for some frolicking, skinny dipping, dancing and shagging, and are dispatched one by one by two. The countess' husband's daughter (stay with me) arrives with her husband. They claim to be looking for her missing father, but are really seeking to secure the wife's inheritance. She discovers that the countess had a secret illegitimate son, who lived not-so-secretly in a shed on the bay, and both sides try to murder their way to the inheritance.

That final line is and isn't a spoiler; the motive behind most of the murders is never really in question. The identity of the murderer of the countess' husband and the teens is initially concealed from us, but the reveal isn't really treated as a climactic moment, as it would be in other gialli. This is mostly because that murderer is only one of several, all of whom are working to get their grubby (and bloody) hands on the titular bay (of blood).

​Despite being set in the countryside, Bava doesn't really push the 'exotic other' angle in the same way that other gialli (eg Don't Torture a Duckling and The House with Windows that Laughed) with rustic locations often do. The residents of the bay are a mixed bag, with the earthy 'charms' of Simon, the illegitimate son, contrasting with the insect-studying Paolo. Paolo's tarot card-reading wife, Anna, does represent a form of exotic mysticism, but Bava's films often incorporate supernatural touches matter-of-factly (eg Baron Blood and Hatchet for the Honeymoon). There's no real sense of Anna's clairvoyance, if indeed it's real, being tied in to her association with, and residence within, nature.

Instead, the countryside, specifically the bay, is merely an asset to be fought over. Paolo, and to a lesser extent Anna, makes the case for its preservation on ecological grounds (indeed, one of the film's many, many titles was Ecology of Crime), a plea which falls upon the deafest of ears. You get the sense that Bava was on the side of the conservationists, and was satirising an innate greed which characterises almost all of the protagonists. Even Paolo and Anna aren't exactly sympathetic characters, constantly bickering and extraordinarily ineffectual at winning anyone over by their arguments. This is another of the film's themes-the ability to influence others with power and money.

As stated, there are several 'murderers' in the film. There are essentially two factions warring over the inheritance rights, with the  two 'puppet masters' each largely inducing others to do their murderous bidding. Thus, we see the corruptibility of man writ large on the screen, with the promise of financial reward proving far more important than ecological conservation (cf the world right now). The teens are perhaps the only characters ostensibly free from the vices of greed and selfishness (Paolo and Anna are definitely selfish), but even there we can witness the seeds of corruption being sewn (or in full bloom, depending on your mores).

The French girl, Laura, insists on both of the guys accompanying her to party in the apparently-abandoned house, refusing to allow either of them to accompany Brunhilde on her skinny dip. This is selfishness and greed in operation on a physical, rather than financial, level. And, depending on your world view, this skinny dipping, as well as the shagging Laura and Filippo engage in, represents corruption of a sort. Bava was a religious man, so I'd be curious to know whether or not he viewed the teens' murders as being a punishment for their transgressions (they did break into two properties, which also represents a transgression, although one for which death seems an over-the-top response). Either way, the sex=death cliché is definitely in evidence here in nascent form.

This slasher section also features some excellent quasi-POV shots, which recall those from the climax of Blood and Black Lace. The camera drifts towards the victims, inexorably honing in on the prey with a single-mindedness and clarity of purpose which seems otherworldly. It's possibly a representation of the murderous lust which drives the killer; their id manifested through the camera movements, rather than an accurate attempt to portray their literal point of view.

The film doesn't quite recapture the heights of this early stalk-and-slash sequence, but it's always deliciously entertaining, and it exhibits a frankly breathtaking disregard for the sanctity of human life. The mystery at the centre of the plot is perfunctory at best, with the message-greed is bad-being far more important. One detail, involving the repurposing of a despairing diary entry is ingenious, and it's a pity it's wasted in a plot that doesn't really gain any from its inclusion. Speaking of ingenious, the film is an excellent example of how to stretch a minimal budget to the absolute maximum. Bava famously used a child's red wagon as a dolly, and carefully-selected camera angles maximised the locations. Comparing the film's look and style to an earlier effort like Black Sunday shows just how versatile and skilled he was; Black Sunday's lighting effects and camera movements have been replaced here by an extreme economy of filming (and money), with zooms and pans the order of the day.