Renato Polselli's 1972 Italian giallo film "Delirio caldo" (Hot Delirium) is a feverish blend of eroticism and horror that titillates and disturbs in equal measure. This lurid exploration of desire and madness pushes the boundaries of taste and coherence, resulting in a film that is both mesmerizing and deeply flawed.
The story follows Dr. Herbert Lyutak, a respected psychoanalyst with a dark secret: he's a sadistic killer who derives sexual pleasure from murdering women. His wife, Marcia, is complicit in his crimes, participating in elaborate roleplay scenarios that blur the lines between fantasy and reality. As the body count rises, a determined police inspector closes in on the couple, setting the stage for a climactic confrontation.
Polselli's direction is characterized by a hallucinatory style that mirrors the protagonists' psychological instability. Rapid cuts, extreme close-ups, and disorienting camera angles create a sense of unease that permeates the entire film. The vivid, oversaturated color palette further enhances the dreamlike quality of the proceedings, with deep reds and electric blues dominating many scenes.
Mickey Hargitay delivers a memorable performance as Dr. Lyutak, oscillating between cool professionalism and unhinged savagery with unsettling ease. His imposing physical presence and intense gaze lend credibility to the character's more monstrous aspects. Rita Calderoni, playing the dual roles of Marcia and her doppelganger Susan, brings a raw vulnerability to her performances that contrasts effectively with Hargitay's menace.
One particularly stand-out scene involves a surreal nightmare sequence where Marcia is pursued through a labyrinthine series of rooms by a masked killer. The frantic editing and discordant soundtrack create a palpable sense of panic that lingers long after the scene ends.
However, "Delirio caldo" is not without its flaws. The plot often veers into incomprehensibility, with subplots and characters introduced and abandoned with little regard for narrative cohesion. The dialogue is frequently stilted and overwrought, though this may be partly attributed to the dubbing in some versions of the film.
Ultimately, "Delirio caldo" is a film that will polarize viewers. Its bold visual style and unflinching exploration of taboo subjects make it a noteworthy entry in the giallo canon, but its narrative shortcomings and dated sensibilities prevent it from achieving true greatness. For fans of Italian horror and those interested in the more extreme examples of 1970s European cinema, it offers a visceral, if flawed, experience.
