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Giallo fever seemed to take the world by storm in the 70s - so
much so that several other (read: non-Italian) countries jumped
on the bandwagon and produced their own versions of the now-renown format. One
such offshoot is the Carlos Aured/Paul Naschy collaboration from
Spain, Blue
Eyes Of The Broken Doll.
Gilles (Naschy) is an ex-convict who has just been given his ticket
to freedom after serving some time. Allegedly, he tried to strangle
his ex-girlfriend. He may have even assaulted her sexually. It’s
mostly all hearsay. Gilles wants nothing more than to get on with
his life, without having to participate in the worries of the world or
recall the past events that haunt him. Unfortunately, just like
that Naked Eyes song, there is always something there to remind him -
in this case, it’s his introduction to Claude (Diana Lorys), one
of three sisters that resides in a house on the outskirts of a small
French village, who offers him a lift and promptly crushes the neck of
a wounded bird with her wooden-prosthetic hand.
As fate would have it, Claude is a flawed person (wow, there’s a
stretch of the imagination) and, due to her handicap, she feels no man
would be attracted to her. Her two siblings also have flaws: Ivette
(Maria Perschy) is a paraplegic confined to a wheelchair and Nicole (Eva
León) is a nymphomaniac.
Now, this might sound all fine and dandy to a guy that was just released
from stir and, actually, it is all fine and dandy for the guy
that was just released from stir… until some homicidal maniac decides
to go on a killing spree - slaying innocent, helpless, blonde-haired,
blue-eyed women and subsequently gouging their eyes out and dumping them
into a bowl of water (while a creepy version of Frère Jacques
plays in the background).
Fans of Oscar winner Javier Bardem may be interested to know that his
mum, Pilar Bardem, co-stars as the none-too-friendly waitress ho smokes
behind the counter at the café. The late Luis Ciges, a wonderful
Spanish character actor who was featured in numerous Naschy vehicles,
plays a villager. Fans of beautiful young Spanish girls (or “perverts” as
we are sometimes called) will no doubt admire the sultry lass that visits
the café with her friends (whom Ciges’ character ogles -
and rightfully so!) - she was played by then fifteen-year-old Sandra
Mozarowsky, a beauty that was featured in several Euro productions due
to her Lolita-like qualities. Sadly, Sandra’s career came
to a halt in 1977 when she fell to her death from the upper-story window
of her Madrid house at the tender age of eighteen (in what is widely
considered to have been a suicide).
What is the ghastly secret of the Blue Eyes Of The Broken Doll and,
more importantly, what the hell does that title mean? Well, while
it may not be on par with the likes of Argento or Bava, Blue
Eyes Of The Broken Doll is Spain’s notable entry into
the genre and still a good way to waste an hour and a half.
Presentation
Long regarded as “that” film by the many individuals
who picked up the severely-butchered version on video in the 80s (once
under the World’s Worst Videos label!) under the title House
Of The Psychotic Women, Blue Eyes Of The Broken Doll is
finally given another chance thanks to the efforts of BCI. The
uncut print (which restores a few grisly scenes, including the actual
slaughtering of a pig which will have PETA up in arms), mastered in High
Definition from the original negative looks so magnificent when compared
to those old VHS dubs that some people might wonder if they’re
even the same film or not! Apparently, the movie was shot Open
Matte so the transfer here is just that: a 1.33:1 Full Frame version. Both
the original 2-Channel Mono English and Castilian Spanish language audio
tracks come through just fine. Optional English Subtitles are provided
for the Spanish track.
Extras
Like several other of BCI’s Naschy titles, Blue Eyes Of
The Broken Doll contains an Introduction (1:40) from the great
one himself (this time, he flaunts a hangman’s noose in our faces,
reminding us of an old proverb that we never heard of in the first place)
as well as an Audio Commentary featuring Naschy, director Aured (who,
tragically, died from a heart attack only a few short months before this
DVD was released) and moderator Angel Gomez Rivero. The Commentary
contains optional English Subtitles for those of you that don’t
speak-a-the Spanish and it’s a good thing, too, as it sounds like
it was recorded with a budget tape recorder (it’s still good, though).
Additional Special Features include the Spanish Credit Sequences (5:09)
which give us both the opening and closing credits, an International
Trailer (2:37) which is incorrectly referred to as the U.S. Trailer on
the DVD cover (a pity, as I would have loved to see what Sam Sherman’s
Independent International company came up with trailer-wise for their
cut); a Still Gallery showcasing photos and Promotional Artwork from
various parts of the globe; and some impressive Liner Notes written by
author Mirek Lipinski which include some rare photos and stills.
The Bottom Line
Blue Eyes Of The Broken Doll finally receives the treatment
it deserves… and to think that it only took 35 years of impatient
waiting and the efforts of an entire generation of geeks to make it
happen!
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