How many of you like to think you can change her? or that she might make a special exception in your case? and maybe you just might survive your romantic but likely deadly sojourn with her, with your fortune and life still intact? It’s a fun idea that I usually have when watching this movie, but it’s not very realistic considering it doesn’t go well for her partners in crime. Joking aside, this one also does get pretty dark.
It shouldn’t be surprising that Diary of an Erotic Murderess is a treat for fans of Marisa Mell and her Italian and Spanish swindler thrillers like Perversion Story (1969), Marta (1971), The Great Swindle (1971), and Death Will Have Your Eyes (1974). She’s great in it, and it’s just as good as another of my favorites Marta, which has a similar concept but is told quite differently.
This one’s less heavy on mystery or violence and has more emphasis on playing out the drama in its peculiar scenario with a buildup to a handful of murders. It isn’t badly written, and I like the overall direction. It feels obvious where the story is going, but it’s more in how things play out as well as the ‘70s Eurocult look and feel of the movie that make it worthwhile. There’s also a couple of surprises I like towards the end (as well as a subtle twist involving the titular diary) that gives the last quarter and closeout of the film more of a punch.
Our leading lady is put to good use; she is virtually present the whole time from when she enters the movie up until its crazy closeout. Those shots of Marisa driving in her topless convertible (not to mention that exquisite music by Carlo Savina) when she is introduced towards the beginning of the movie are a mood setter that really hits the spot and will pull you in.
After the last one quits, oil tycoon Alexander (Richard Conte) desperately needs a new governess to take care of his mute and emotionally unstable son Mark (Juan Ribó) (a young man with a hyper-erratic childishness who’s prone to fits of violent outbursts) at his home, an isolated old, historical mansion on a promontory in Galicia. An astounding looking woman Gina (Marisa Mell), who Alexander regards as much too young and pretty for the job, answers the call. Assertively, with her credentials in hand, she convinces Alexander to take her to his home to meet his son and see for herself whether she can handle him or not. On the way to the mansion, from the way he looks at her when they are in the backseat together, it is obvious that Alexander, a man accustomed to getting everything he wants in life, is starting to immediately fall for Gina.
When they first arrive, Mark is nowhere to be found, but Alexander and Gina become more acquainted and eventually have dinner together, which is when Mark suddenly arrives, and the way he approaches Gina is awkward and tense, as, instead of shaking her hand, he stares at her funny before rudely ripping the flowers away from her dress that used to belong to his recently deceased mother. Gina takes this rather well. She seems to know exactly how to handle Mark, especially in private, as her tendency to redirect his negative energy and calm him down is not rooted in her supposed background as an expert psychologist, but rather because she is an expert manipulator. It shouldn’t be spoiling too much to mention that she’s not who she seems.
Mark wasn’t born mute but became nonverbal when he found his mother after she killed herself. Alexander explains to Gina that his son Mark idolized his mother when she was alive, and it is suggested had a deep incestuous love for her. It isn’t clear if Gina physically resembles his mother, but Mark does start to eventually see his mother in her, thanks to some clever manipulation by Gina.
For Mark, Gina is his Goddess returned. Armed with what she knows about him; Gina goes to work on Mark psychologically. She quickly picks up on how to exploit him where he is most vulnerable.
The moments when Mark is creeping around overlooking what goes on between Alexander and Gina suggest some kind of antagonistic agenda as well. Juan Ribó is actually pretty good as Mark, able to convey complex emotion without dialogue. He’s obviously going through some shit internally, but he’s probably not one you would want to underestimate. He’s not all that sympathetic either; there’s just something strange or untrustworthy about him. He gets shouted at like a pet/animal by the servants when misbehaving and locked up in a dungeon-like punishment cell. He kind of feels like the monster of the mansion in a way when he plays his elegant musical theme on the piano like a kind of phantom opera ghost. Gina views Mark’s theme on the piano as a kind of prayer and honor to the memory of his mother.
Alexander is foolish and even quite dumb at times, which is surprising considering his success in life. The dumbest thing he does is tell Gina that his son will inherit everything when he dies. Perhaps that’s just the point, as a woman like Gina would cause anyone of us to lose our heads.
While Gina snoops around at night, the dissonance in the music signifies that she is (obviously) no saint. She ultimately comes across the titular diary that once belonged to Mark’s mother, and from it she finds inspiration to concoct her great swindle. She believes the author of the diary is her predecessor who inspires Gina to do what she couldn’t.
It is revealed that Gina has an estranged scumbag husband (Anthony Steffen), who she doesn’t seem happy to hear from when he calls her over the phone calling her Elizabeth. Her secret meetings with her husband, her past partner in crime as well, reveal more about who she really is.
I’ve got to say that not only does Diary of an Erotic Murderess hit the sweet spot for fans of the erotic Eurocult thriller, with its isolated mansion setting, themes around the desires and obsessions of the rich and decadent (and those envious of them), and seductive killer beauty, but the story does take a number of interesting turns; and the characters have a surprising amount of depth to them, although no one is really a “good guy” here, except for maybe the servants. The movie does have several phases, and I kind of like that because each phase is a game changer. I love a few of the brief moments of Marisa Mell walking the grounds of the mansion literally looking like a Greek goddess. There’s also a medieval sixteenth century monastery built by the Templars on the grounds that’s run by a convent of nuns that gets some play in the story.
I couldn’t help indulging in the plentiful shots of Marisa Mell lounging and reading in the film, which are the main images I ended up mentally associating this film with. Despite the turmoil that’s actually going on in the story, there’s always something so relaxing and cozy to movies like this, something almost meditative at times. Obviously, there’s a lot to choose from, but the time spent in this movie with this lovely killer lady is a true pleasure.
© At the Mansion of Madness
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