“You look like you’ve got a telephone pole up your ass!”

If you give a movie a title like Strip Nude for Your Killer, you’d better start making with the sesso and violenza right away – like, within two seconds of your main titles. And that’s exactly what director Andrea Bianchi does with this Italian slasher-thriller – no sooner has Berto Pisano’s snarling porno-mondo title theme come to a halt than we’re in the middle of a gynecological exam, and a Bad One, at that. You can tell it’s bad because the whole scene is tinted blue, and any shrink will tell you that blue doesn’t mean happy or fun – it means cold and dead, and that’s pretty much the outcome for the naked gal in the stirrups. The doctor makes a half-hearted attempt to revive her, then dials up a pal and gets him to help dump the (still naked) body in a tub full of running water. She had a heart attack, says the doc – no one will ever know that I’m responsible for this. A few minutes later, the doc is getting the business end of a switchblade rammed into his sternum by a heavy-breathing figure tricked out in a leather jump suit and motorcycle helmet. That seems how a movie called Strip Nude for Your Killer should begin, right?

Well, that’s also how the rest of the picture plays out – people do terrible things to each other, don’t give much of a shit about it, and then pay the price courtesy of the Guy in the Helmet. It helps that most of the people doing the terrible things and paying the price are spectacularly hot – no only do you get Italo-sploitation queen Edwige Fenech doing what she does best (taking off her clothes and screaming), but you also get Euro sexies like Femi Benussi and Solvi Stubing in various states of distress and undress. And it also helps that the price-paying part of the bargain is incredibly violent and mean-spirited and a little bit weird: one victim bleeds to death after having both ears lopped off, while a boyfriend-girlfriend combo winds up not only stabbed repeatedly, but lose a penis and breast (respectively, natch) in the process. Oh, and then there’s the morbidly obese guy (Franco Diogene) who, after pleading his co-worker to have sex with him, fails miserably after 90 seconds, and decides to work off his depression with a blow-up doll before the killer pounces on him too. I did say it was a weird, right? Make that more than a little bit.

Story? You want a story? Well, Andrea Bianchi (who consistently delivered the cheapest, crassest films imaginable throughout his career, including the stupefying zombiethon Burial Ground) really didn’t, though there’s the skeleton of a plotline on display – each of the victims is an employee of a decadent fashion studio, and photographers Castelnuovo and Fenech try to figure out whodunit – but it really doesn’t matter. If you’re a hardcore giallo fan, you’re probably going to be a little disappointed by Strip Nude – it’s crudely made, not particularly stylish, and relies on the score to deliver its suspense – but all other goo goo mucks will dig this all-you-can-eat Italian buffet of bad manners and ugly violence with both hands.

Blue Underground’s widescreen DVD is crisp enough to capture all the unpleasant details, from the goopy spurts of blood from a victim’s neck to the woven mat of hair on the back of the fat guy (there’s one case where you almost wish the picture wasn’t that clear). Only the English dubbing is available for audio tracks, but you can’t really complain when you’ve got dialogue like the line listed at the top of this review to enjoy (and delivered at speedfreak velocity by all involved). The original English language trailer (“There’s very .little time for love – it must be done hurriedly – desperately… because… an atrocious death may be approaching!”) is included in the extras, along with a brief interview featurette with Stubing (who wasn’t aware of her character’s fate until the day before the interview) and screenwriter Massimo Felisatti (who also wrote The Night Evelyn Came Out of the Grave), who explains in no uncertain terms what a lunatic Bianchi was, and how embarrassed he is by the film itself. If that’s not a ringing endorsement to see this picture, I don’t know what is.
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- Paul Gaita