Someone is bumping off sexy women, inserting a venomous acupuncture needle into the back of the neck to render the victim helpless yet lucid, before getting busy on them with a knife. Investigating the series of grisly murders is Inspector Tellini (Giancarlo Giannini), who has serious doubts about his chosen career, and who unwittingly drags his own wife Anna (Stefania Sandrelli) into the web of murder and intrigue.
The Black Belly of the Tarantula is a textbook giallo that does little to distinguish itself from countless other Italian murder mysteries of the day: there's the mysterious killer in black fedora, raincoat and gloves (albeit rubber gloves); a bevy of beautiful victims, most of whom get nekkid (some before they are killed, some after); stylish '70s architecture and interior design; a convoluted storyline with plot threads that go nowhere; a lush Ennio Morricone score; and a really dumb twist that takes an awful lot of swallowing.
For many this tick-list of genre clichés will be enough, but I couldn't help but feel a tad underwhelmed by the film, which lacks the visual acumen of a director like Argento or Bava, the gory excess of Fulci, and not nearly enough of those weird touches that make certain giallos stand out from the pack. While it's impossible to be too hard on a film that features so many gorgeous Euro-babes in a state of undress (including a buck naked Barbara Bouchet and a topless Barbara Bach), the by-the-numbers nature of proceedings means that I cannot rate this higher than 6/10.
The Black Belly of the Tarantula is a textbook giallo that does little to distinguish itself from countless other Italian murder mysteries of the day: there's the mysterious killer in black fedora, raincoat and gloves (albeit rubber gloves); a bevy of beautiful victims, most of whom get nekkid (some before they are killed, some after); stylish '70s architecture and interior design; a convoluted storyline with plot threads that go nowhere; a lush Ennio Morricone score; and a really dumb twist that takes an awful lot of swallowing.
For many this tick-list of genre clichés will be enough, but I couldn't help but feel a tad underwhelmed by the film, which lacks the visual acumen of a director like Argento or Bava, the gory excess of Fulci, and not nearly enough of those weird touches that make certain giallos stand out from the pack. While it's impossible to be too hard on a film that features so many gorgeous Euro-babes in a state of undress (including a buck naked Barbara Bouchet and a topless Barbara Bach), the by-the-numbers nature of proceedings means that I cannot rate this higher than 6/10.