The Psychic (1977) Style, legacy, and Lucio Fulci’s Halloween 3 (Review)

Lucio Fulci, there’s a name from horror cinema that has a unique legacy. Known for the like of The Beyond, City of the Living Dead and Zombie Flesh Eaters – his filmography is one of over the top gore and nightmare logic, well, logic is a strong word, his films make next to no sense – but that’s okay as that’s why the horror community loves him. He defies logic. Like many of his peers whether it is Sergio Martino or looking back further, Mario Bava, his reputation belies how deep a filmography he has how many genres it spans. Giallo, for instance, is not an Italian sub-genre that the ‘godfather of gore’ is immediately associated with; yet make them he did. From that hand few he directed, 1977’s the Psychic (Out on Shameless Films Blu-Ray) is probably the least famous.

Virginia (Jennifer O’ Neill) is heading to a dilapidated manor house owned by her new husband, Francesco (Gianni Garko), in an attempt to surprise him. The thing is, she is something of a clairvoyant, upon arriving she is subject to a series of visions that point towards a room with a skeleton buried in the wall. In a surprisingly rare ploy for an Italian genre film of the 1970s, the police are surprisingly competent, even if they arrest Franceso merely because the body was found in a house he owns. What is even more surprising is the fact that this is both a Fulci film and a Giallo that makes a decent amount of sense, with the film taking all the images from those visions and slowly turns them into the full picture. A rare rewarding experience in an era rife with flash and sleaze.

Giallo, or sleazy Italian murder mysteries that rose to prominence in the 70s, were famous for making next to no sense, being full of violent and beautifully staged set-pieces and sex. Lots of sex. It wouldn’t be a surprise to think that a man known for turning everything in his work up to 11 would produce the most over the top examples of this type of cinema. Ironically, that couldn’t be further from the truth, especially with the Psychic. Fair enough, he makes up for the lack of sex here by putting all of it in the exemplary Lizard in a Woman’s Skin (1971). For a man who directed a scene that featured someone literally vomiting up their own intestines, humble is the last word that should come to mind. Yet here I am saying it, The Psychic is one of the more humble Giallo produced in the halcyon days. The only real lapse comes from a prologue where a woman jumps off a cliff and her face bounces off the rock face, well, the figurine does, anyway, unconvincingly.

Instead, almost all of the run time is given over to the mystery to the extent that it ends on a final freeze-frame. You could pass this off as a particularly grizzly episode of Colombo. Roberto Gianviti and Dardano Sacchetti’s script includes no mysterious black-gloved assailant stabbing beautiful young women, and with those scenes omitted, it allows the script a chance to explore all the ideas it sets out. Giving the mystery room to move creates an incredibly compelling piece of fiction. And, with all the trimmings cut to a minimum, it draws attention to Fulci’s ability as a director. He shows that he is more than a heightened vibe or style.

Not that there isn’t a style here, even if certain Giallo purists will argue all the livelong day as to whether this fits in that sub-genre – much like the latter end of Argento’s golden era. The style comes in the way he puts a scene together and the use of music, or the lack of. As Virginia is driving to the house the first time around, Fulci creates a sense of dread just driving through a tunnel. He cuts out the music playing on the radio, drops in moody ambience and edits in visions from her “hallucinations” while passing through the pitch-black passageways. Nothing happens, yet you fear for the safety of the character. That is the work of a director who is a master of tone and doom. The same is true is of the big face-off at the end. Much of it features Virigiana running away from the “murderer” and that’s it. Just the two characters walking or running through the vast, empty and ruined buildings, using wide-angles and toying with sound design. Not only is this is a strong scene, but it is also one of the best you’ll find anywhere in this sub-branch of Italian cinema. And he does this without a single slash of a blade, no blood, no gore, nor or a single on-screen murder. Through this and the mortifying silence of the final scene, it becomes apparent: Lucio Fulci is a far more talented director than his many detractors would have you believe. Just like many of his peers, there is much more to him than meets the eye.

It is a pity then that such a top-tier film was directed by Lucio Fulci. Or, put it this way – Halloween III would be held in much higher esteem if it didn’t have the word “Halloween” in its title. It could be judged on its own merits and judged on its own merits, separate from the increasingly protracted horror franchise. The psychic is the same – if you go in expecting more from the godfather of gore this will be a disappointment. I guarantee it. However, if you check it out as one of the more patient and tonally compelling films from the pantheon of Giallo classics, well, like me you’ll be pleasantly surprised at just how good Fulci could be.

THANKS FOR READING ROB’S REVIEW OF THE PSYCHIC

This month’s Pop Screen exclusive sees us (big) suit up for what many people consider the greatest concert movie of all time – Talking Heads’s wildly inventive, Jonathan Demme-directed masterpiece Stop Making Sense. Graham is joined once again by Talking Heads superfan Ewan Gleadow to discuss the band’s career, the wild visual concepts and their possible meanings, the band’s excursions into unexpected genres, Chris Frantz’s moany autobiography and so much more. 

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