Don't Torture a Duckling

I'll BREAK you!

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Italian cultgiant Lucio Fulci is well above his twentieth direction by 1972, the year he decides to subject a whole country to his self-invented murder fiction Don't Torture a Duckling. Fulci blends blatant social and religious commentary with smooth, twisty detective mystery mechanics, solidifying a buildup that is decent and liable even on it's own by a rather pleasant tint of supernatural appeals and well placed - sorry 'bout that - graphic violence.

Interestingly enough, Don't Torture a Duckling is NOT the movie which earned Fulci a recognition of international scale, though it certainly imbued him with a reputation of notoriousness prior to his successful breakthrough effort Zombie - Flesh Eaters in 1979. I think one could safely say that Don't Torture a Duckling remains a way more significant work than Fulci's first undeadfeast though, the latter being little more than a now-rather massively dated zombiehoax filled and operated by evident ambitions to serve and satisfy it's era's urgent, secretive thirst for all stuff that stinks hideously and walks just to emphasize. For the record: nothing against you, zombie folks. I do love ALL visitors. Seldom are the times when prior work surpasses consecutive one(s), yet if you decide to start familiarizing yourself with the immense filmography of this great storyteller and primal giallo masta 'Lucio Fulci, then Don't Torture a Duckling is a definite, truly safe go-for that stood the trials of decades proudly, and now reigns, without a doubt, as timelessly significant.

The very first, quite pleasant and factual circumstance you are to encounter is the environment the story unravels in. Southern Italy does not have it's reputation for nothing. This historic, Prime Originator Locale of Mammas, real deal (!!) pizzas, sweet laughs and intense verbal struggles certainly has it's secretive and even dangerous appeals deeper within to it, if one is curious or fool enough to start looking for them. Fulci takes us into a southern village, a place which prefers to maintain it's vibrant, fine-art still-life mood to remain intact, and not particularly tinkered with. You see: every village has both it's traditional/generational Village Idiot and the ancient fear of the supernatural - the latter though is dark of a taboo enough to not pose as everyday subject matter to ask questions or make statements about.



Nyeeeehhh-hehh-hehh-hehh-heeeeehh!

Fear not, - more precisely, do JUST that - as the director serves you as guide for this scenery by the time child disappearances are starting to take place in it. I am most happy to inform you that all these disappearances have a tendency to reveal quite surprising, thus highly effective creative death narratives to their conclusion. By the time the killer's presence and workings are evident, Fulci introduced three or four characters of whom you could grow suspicious to commit the murders. Emphasis and the ability to spill the shadow of suspicion on all potential narrative aspects is everything in this genre of detective fiction, and surely, the Fulci Thing understands this perfectly, offering his buildup as a decent, oldschool - not a blame factor of course - Agatha Christie riddlefoam. Surely, the graphic violence and the immensely powerful scenes the director will put you in honest awe with do add a special quality to the output. Let us account on these aspects.



I'll BREAK you!

Firstly we must admire a colorful character palette Fulci came up with, though the focal female characters of great actress Florinda Bolkan and a blatantly beautiful Barbara Bouchet do stand out immensely even of the highly acceptable portrayal-lineup rendered by the male actors. OK, I admit, eventually you can't help but be permanently baffled by the average attractiveness of the era's MAN. Fear the Moustache! Fear the Sunglazze! Fear the - oh, turns out that this IS still the Sunglazze! Fear the Fear!

Both focal female roles are soaked into a cleverly mixed moisture of sear, cautious suspicion, as Bouchet's character is an individual who is absolutely out of place and has a massively rough time to fit in socially and spiritually into the everyday life of the village. Fulci offers - let's face it, folks - highly original personal disturbances he covers Bouchet into, as the staggering beauty has thorough enough of a shallow time in the village to seductively approach every single boy (BOY, like 11-12) she encounters. Trust me, you are deeply, thoroughly mistaken if to take this aspect as an effect craver. I would pick up on that, I am almost sure, as I myself have a stupendously high dislike factor of effect craving for a narrative buildup on in-your-face sexual registers.

Simple as this: Barbara Bouchet's figure is truly bored beyond all comprehension, she is certainly aware that her seductive behavior towards very young boys is out of place, yet she fails to show interest or regret of this anymore, and finds this passtime of her a stable source to attain fun and a sear bliss from. Mind you, many actresses would end up looking hilarious if to do this, for the Bouchet Thing though: you believe. You DO NOT doubt the Bouchet Thing, trust me.



Opinion Onion Minigame!
Can you spot the Bouchet Thing on the picture above?

Though Fulci introduces a drug-addict implification to unleash some further suspicion on Bouchet if you see fit, eventually one finds himself in a hard position if to decide whether this immensely bored female or Florinda Bolkan's character is the more liable suspect. Bolkan's figure is a witch-like persona, also, one in possesion of quite the classic, Italian temper it is. That figures: what is in your mind is on your mouth - something the villagers grow hard of tolerating if the speaker is rumored to practice the arts of Black Magic (Woman?) and stuff related. The village population is in fear of ancient superstitions and possesses firm convictions in rather vague, though comfy traditions that seem quite available to establish as something to oppose for radically, incompassionately. They WILL decide the persona of the killer, they WILL serve justice and WILL end up being satisfied by an act assumed as legitly, deservedly done.

A ridiculously powerful scene is casually delivered therefore by Fulci, presenting the brutal beatup of the local witch in the cemetery her pursuers chase her into - on top of all that, Lucio is wicked 'nuff to shock you tremendously with the beautiful, sorrowful song called Quei Giorni Insieme a te performed by great singer Ornella Vanoni to support the staggering image content. When the brutal beating is administered and music reaches the peek portions both as for emotional aspect and musical buildup, Fulci, yet again, casually: switches to the witch's perspective, as she struggles to find the strength both in her now-shattered soul and brutally abused body to crawl out of the cemetery. Notice the massive, cunning symbolism here. You feel through the witch's inner and physical pain thoroughly, and it is not hard to realize that Fulci's intention is to ask the witch and you whether it is worth trying to move on, to recover, or it is better (safer?) and more peaceful to die with the spark of human dignity still remaining in you by choosing to give out your Earthy existence in the quite appropriate place to do so? Girls, boys: extremely powerful sequence. Extremely powerful.

Don't Torture a Duckling eventually arrives to a clever field of narrative intersections with quite some liable twitspoints introduced and smartly elaborated upon. You will definitely have an enjoyable time trying to guess the killer's identity, and it is safe to say that Fulci admirably submitted to the Prime Rule of Detective Fiction and still he is able to surprise you by the most improbable, nevertheless: still the most effective conclusion by the end. Oh, we should account on the Prime Rule of Detective Fiction though. This, if I am not mistaken, is closely related to establisher and supreme master of the genre Agatha Christie, and the rule itself tells that no murder mystery should hide clues away from the reader/viewer that are essential to solve the riddle.

Don't Torture a Duckling naturally devotes a massive amount of it's playtime to the dialog sequences taking place between detectives and inspectors, though the acting quality of the male personificators are on the acceptable levels at best, the subject matters they are quite sanely and rationally debating on safely saves the buildup miles away from being tiresome - credit goes for Fulci's sane, conscious dialog writing. As for the acting: he is not to blame, in my opinion. These were the standards by the era, yet it is still amazing how very easy is to smile, even laugh at how seriously males are taking themselves for, while the females in the movie - sure, especially Barbara Bouchet - are shining superbright/superfresh on canvas compared to the male characters. Let us say: male sidekicks. Children do render a very good performance, as well.



The movie develops via an image language that remained surprisingly fresh even to this here recent days, main reasons for this are the timeless nature of the environment that the narrative structure takes place in, and Fulci's factual awareness of this nature. Even the modern interiors
are looking quite OK, thus the only thing to entertain you with a somewhat stale quality to it is the general behavior and temper of the male characters.

Don't Torture a Duckling is a true classic worth cultivating - a very efficient way to start just that would be to take an intent inspection of it. Otherwise Florinda Bolkan just might visit you in a rather disturbing dream, giving you the promise she is quite fond of giving.



I'll BREAK you!



Vooaaaaaa'll BREEEAAKKKYYYHOUUUU!

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