You know that rock musical for the stage? The one that begins with a mop-headed hooker being pulled into an alley by a man in a giant owl head who does flips? And a Marilyn Monroe lookalike playing the sax while her dress billows up? No? Good, because it only exists in Stagefright, so you passed the liar test.
The Italian horror film follows the foibles of the cast and crew attempting to mount this ambitious production. Rehearsals aren’t going great, and that’s before their troupe is infiltrated by a crazed killer. A wardrobe lackey is the first to be murdered (in the face!), and the director eats up the idea of using the publicity to his advantage, because he’s in dire need of a hit.
That’s before he and the thesps get locked in the theater with the killer, who’s now using the aforementioned owl head as his trademark, so take that, hockey mask! Members of the musical get stabbed, drilled, sawed and axed, and they all wonder who, who could it be? (That’s an owl pun.) Meanwhile, the oblivious cops sit outside, talking about James Dean and Popeye.
With its behind-the-scenes setting most of us never see, Stagefright feels more unique than it would otherwise. (The owl head doesn’t hurt, either.) As with many ’80s Italian horrors, it’s heavily stylized — read: MTV-influenced and, therefore, awfully and wonderfully dated. Director Michele Soavi (The Church) hails from the Dario Argento school of filmmaking, so people bleed and get torn apart in graphically gruesome ways. It’s slow as first, but once the killings started, I was prepped to cry, “Bravo! Bravo!” —Rod Lott