This London-based giallo starts off with a Keystone cops-type sped up car chase that ends with a toy train crashing into a toy car. We shortly afterwards see Klaus Kinski and his wife badly superimposed onto a ski-slope pretending to slide down a mountain. I'm guessing the budget for this one wasn't too high, but at least it lends a daft edge to this film.
Fugly Klaus Kinski isn't too happy that his wife hates him and clearly parades her lesbian lover in front of him all the time, which makes him the prime suspect when the car she's in crashes and explodes. The real question is, Klaus hated his wife, but is he the one that killed her? We follow our subdued Klaus around London as he searches hippy filled freak out dens looking for answers.
It's in one of these stinking holes full of unemployable idealistic morons that Klaus discovers his wife starring in some sort of porno film. Her face is covered, but a scar on her neck and a distinctive ring are enough proof for Klaus. He hooks up with a hippy chick to continue his search and gets a good kicking in a porn studio for his trouble. However, as shifty as Klaus looks, someone else may be up to something - why else would Klaus be being drugged?
We get a calmer Klaus here, but you still get the usual traits from him too - staring, glowering, looking etc. Nothing is quite revealed until the end so feel free to nap through some of the film - I had a feeling I did, and didn't seem to miss anything either. This isn't the best Riccardo Fredda film - If you want giallo, try his incredibly daft and enjoyable Iguana With the Tongue of Fire and if you want horror, my preference is the Ghost. Boob fans however will not feel let down by this one.
In an alternative universe, Klaus Kinski would have been the ideal actor to play Mark E Smith of The Fall.
