They Call Me Mellow Giallo (AKA PULP FICTION Part 3!)

We all live in a giallo submarine, giallo submarine, gi--oh...hey! I didn't see you there.

Yep, it's that time again! PULP FICTION time!

So, what's this giallo stuff I'm talking about? Glad you asked! Now, I'm not here to give a dissertation on the meaning and reason of giallo literature and movies. I know most of you are smarter than you look. I'm not going to compare and contrast one director with another. I just want some of the hundreds of people a week who read my post on Marble Hornets to get a taste of something different. And as you know, I've been writing here and there on pulp fiction.

While we were over here in America dreaming of the jungles with Tarzan and Britain was fighting communism with Bulldog Drummond, Italy was producing its own pulp fiction (though a lot of it consisted of translation into Italian of English-language mystery and crime novels) on fairly cheap stock with yellow (giallo) covers.  And just the same way that the chicken follows the egg, the giallo book gave birth to the giallo movie.

I will interject that to Italians, giallo means something different than it does to Americans. We would not, for instance, look at film and consider Psycho anything but a high-quality masterpiece of American cinema. So I won't go there. I'll talk about giallo movies from this neck of the woods.

So, if you're an American, what does an Italian giallo have in store for you?

 Dario Argento's Opera 1987

Damsals, sans braziers. They may scream, they may plead for help in badly dubbed and overdubbed English and it may seem to take them HOURS to die, but they will do it clothed in flimsy lingerie, plunging necklines, or startlingl and unsettling slashes of light.

Mario Bava's The Girl Who Knew Too Much 1963

Music, sometimes known as noise.  Of course we all know that Italy is proud of its opera. And music in a giallo is essential. So most giallo films will scorch your ears off with the sounds of opera, classical, heavy metal, or in the case of Bird With the Crystal Plumage, what-the-heck-is-that-racket.  And there are times when the music plays such an important part that it takes on an actual role in the film. Check out Dario Argento's Opera for some brilliant use of ear-splitting metal when you least expect it (well, until after the first kill).

The killer. You probably won't see him, but his scenes are extended.  The murder scenes are the longest scenes in the giallo film.  They usually get no more graphic than a gallon of 1970s scarlet paint splashed across a wall, a back, or a bed sheet, but they're long. And who is this killer? Only time will tell. All you'll know is that he is one of the men (or could it be a strong woman?) who may be sweet on the starlet or trying to solve the murders.  Did I mention that there is always a string of them? Murders, I mean.

Umberto Lenzi's Paranoia 1968

Paranoia.  And as we all know, just because you're paranoid, doesn't mean they aren't out to get you.

Black gloves.  They're everywhere. Holding knives.  Reaching into coat pockets.  Snapping photographs. Pulling back curtains.  Who do they belong to? Why does everyone seem to be wearing them? Are they in this year?

Dario Argento's The Bird With the Crystal Plumage 1970



So, do these qualify as pulp, aside from the fact that the books were printed on cheap paper? Let's see what we have.  Crime? Check. A mystery? Check. Exploitation? Check!  Epic battles? Well, yes, in the form of the time-consuming murder scenes. Check! Exotic locales? Well, Check if you consider that you're American and have not likely been to the wilds of Italy where many take place. Heroic adventures? Check! Except the heroes and heroines may not see it as such. A bit more sleezy than we're used to, but pulp nonetheless.

Put all these things in a pot and mix them up and what spills out is a giallo, for better or worse. Mind you, these are not action movies or cop adventures.  That's a different story for a different time.  For now, if you're interested, and want to expand your pulp experience, take a look at some of these listed here and let me know how you like 'em.

Massimo Dallamano's What Have You Done to Solange? 1972 

And I Don't Want to Live This Life

Just months before Nancy's death in the Chelsea Hotel in New York on October 12, 1978, Suzy Spungen, Nancy's younger sister, sat in her mother's kitchen while Sid and Nancy sat excitedly sharing stories in the living room with the family.  "How can  you watch that? How can  you watch her dying like that?" Suzy demanded from their numb, disenchanted mother in the final chapters of And I Don't Want to Live This Life written by Deborah Spungen.

That is the question that any parent could fairly demand from the woman who stated in her book, as if everything she did was right and good in the land of perfect parenthood, that she is now the mother of two, not three, children.  That her son David now has only one sister.  That they do not talk about Nancy, the girl they threw away.

Author:  Deborah Spungen
Published:  1983
Pages:  432
Recommended:  highly, for parents, parents of troubled children, music fans

Throughout this book, Deborah Spungen makes statements in such a way that she obviously feels upright and well-intentioned, all the while making the reader cringe with her selfish, narrow-minded attitude.  Excusing some of her actions as being a new mother in the '70s only removes the sting of some of the things that happened to Nancy.  Wipe away Chloe Webb's nauseating, nerve-grating performance in the Sid and Nancy film.  That was not Nancy.  Nancy was prettier, softer, and smarter than the movie's directing and acting portrayed her.

An irritable baby, hyperactive toddler, and depressed teenager, Nancy was born into a Jewish household where she did not fit into the mold of her mother's admitted preconceived notions of what the perfect home should be.  Early  on, Deborah Spungen began searching for answers that would relieve her of responsibility.  Psychiatrists, doctors, teachers were consulted trying to pin a name to Nancy's behavior.  Deborah claims that one doctor gave Nancy a diagnosis of schizophrenia but neglected to inform the family.  Some doctors told them that Nancy was mostly alright.  It's a hard call to make by reading the mother's account, which seems designed to absolve her of sins and free her conscience.

Nancy was a happy girl with a few problems who turned dark and moody at age 12, like most girls on the planet.  With a nervous, hysterical mother, whose intelligence was far below her own gifted mind, Nancy sought ways to instigated break-downs in Deborah.  When the siblings came along, she was jealous of the differences in treatment she saw between herself and them.  Then she was sent away to a special school for disturbed children, never to be back in normal society.

She was brilliant and graduated at age 16.   Seeking a place to fit in, Nancy longed to go to New York.  Deborah and her husband decided to put Nancy up in an apartment in the middle of New York City at age 17.  She was troubled, with a series of possible mental conditions and a history of destructive behavior, far from her suburban Pennsylvaia home, and alone.  All for the relief of her parents and siblings, so they could live what they saw as their ideal life without Nancy embarrassing them.  The Spungens tossed Nancy away into the most destructive environment they could find, because Nancy wanted it.

What teenagers don't want to be alone in New York City with money and drugs and musicians and sex? Difference is, Nancy was troubled and underage and her parents, following a life time of habits of doing so, gave in to her.  What follows is a downward spiral of sex and groupies, rock stars, drugs, and fame that follows her to London where she meets Sid Vicious of the Sex Pistols. 

Through phone calls for drug money, attempts to reach out to Deborah for help by both Nancy and Sid, and stories of the perfect life without her eldest child, Deborah unknowingly portrays herself as a terrible mother who sent her daughter away to die.  That being said, the book is very well-written.  It adds a human aspect to the two-diminsional character whose whining and witchy appearance is well known to fans of the Sid and Nancy film.  In the closing chapters, Deborah explains her opinion on what happened the morning Nancy died, how she behaved toward Sid and his mother when they tried to contact her, and encloses two letters to herself from Sid. 

The letters are heartwrenching, expressive, and mature.  Sid shows grief and loss and a desire to tell Nancy's mother what kind of daughter she had.  It also ends with the poem that he sent to Deborah that he had written for Nancy.

Nancy,
You were my little baby girl
And I shared all your fears
Such joy to hold you in my arms
And kiss away your tears
But now you're gone
There's only pain
And nothing I can do
And I don't want to live this life
If I can't live for you.
To my beautiful baby girl. Our love will never die.
~Simon (Sid Vicious)

Every chapter of Nancy's life is engaging, offers insight, and depicts a failed attempt at reaching a difficult child.  Photos of Nancy throughout her life are included.  I've read the book several times since it was published and it is one of my most cherished.  Deborah Spungen comes across as selfish and deluded, but what is surprising within her story of Nancy's life, is that Nancy's voice cuts through, as if her spirit is too strong even for her mother's bitter words to stifle.

This is the book version of my Sid and Nancy blog.  On Monday, November 15th, please check for my book/movie/documentary article, The Sid and Nancy Story, on The Ultimate Negative.