Color, 1971, 92m. / Directed by Aldo Lado / Starring Jean Sorel, Ingrid Thulin / Anchor Bay (US R1 NTSC) / WS (2.35:1) (16:9)
A speeding ambulance rushes the body of reporter Gregory Moore (the underrated Jean Sorel) to a Prague hospital where he's pronounced dead and plopped onto a steel table. Unfortunately, as his voiceover indicates, he's still very much alive and aware of his surroundings. In flashbacks we see his tender relationship with beautiful Mira (Barbara Bach), who disappears mysteriously one night, and his efforts to investigate with the aid of two colleagues, Jack (Mario Adorf) and Jessica (Thulin). Gradually he learns about a nefarious cult (reminiscent of the one in All the Colors of the Dark) dedicated to orgies and the violent silencing of anyone who opposes them. How Mira and her obsession with butterflies figure in, however, is a revelation not uncovered until the final act.
With its razor-sharp scope photography, methodical plotting, and icy Ennio Morricone score, this unheralded thriller is the sort of treat die-hard Eurocult excavators enjoy discovering. Straddled somewhere between the mystery and horror genres, it relies more on the viewer's imagination to fill in the grisly gaps in the story without ladling out much in the way of explicit sex and gore. Lado also deserves points for some fairly ruthless viewer manipulation, with a memorable climax guaranteed to elicit a gasp. (Interestingly, the '80s revival of Alfred Hitchcock Presents remade that "Breakdown" episode but opted for Lado's ending instead of the TV original's.) Sorel, who also appeared in the excellent, remarkably similar The Double the same year, once again makes a solid leading man and carries the film through more than a few potentially confusing story hurdles, and the rest of the cast all fares well enough. The colorful Adorf, who lent colorful support to more than his share of crime thrillers, offers a robut turn nicely balanced by the more austere Thulin (a Visconti regular).
Usually seen in highly compromised form (the widest letterboxed version barely measured to 1.90:1), Short Night of the Glass Dolls looks marvelous on Anchor Bay's DVD. The blue and gray color schemes look accurate throughout, and the mostly dubbed audio (with English lip movements to match) sounds fine. Lado appears on a solid featurette, the 11-minute "Strange Days of the Short Night," in which he explains the completely irrational title; originally the film was going to be called Short Night of the Butterflies, but commercial considerations from a competing project forced a last minute switch. It was also shown as Malastrana and, on US video, Paralyzed (with a particularly clumsy, video-generated title card). The disc also includes a theatrical trailer and Lado bio/filmography.
In 1955, the television series Alfred Hitchcock Presents traumatized more than a few impressionable viewers with an episode called "Breakdown," in which businessman Joseph Cotten is paralyzed in a car wreck and left in a state closely resembling death. For the following half hour, we follow the poor sap as he's carted off to the morgue and onto the autopsy table, with the requisite twist ending. Demonstrating he could one-up the master of suspense, first time director Aldo Lado ran with the
same concept as the basis for a twist-packed giallo in which the protagonist's state of near-death allows the film to flash back and forth in time, gradually revealing details which explain how he came to be in such an uncomfortable predicament.
Lovely Bach (Mrs. Ringo Starr) doesn't have much to do, but her presence was effectively used to promote this film on video after her fairly successful acting career through the early '80s.
