I had been looking for this out-of-print movie for some time with no success. Then the other night I found it on my computer. I had downloaded it without remembering. That is the only explanation I can think of. But what if I were living in a giallo? How would I know I was in the middle of some psychosexual murder mystery?
Someone would probably be trying to drive me crazy, and would have put it on my computer to make me think I'd put it there myself and then forgotten it. Mimsy Farmer suffers a similar sickness in Autopsy. She is in a suicide museum and finds two copies of typewritten suicide notes with her signature. Then things get really weird.
I would be trying to drive myself crazy. I certainly am. I spend way too much time trying to talk about, read about and track down odd and rare movies. Sometimes I even watch them, and even more infrequently I write about them. Mimsy is trying to drive herself crazy by hanging out in the morgue working on a thesis about real suicides vs fake. She spends so much time there that she actually hallucinates that the corpses get up off the table and have a little naughty time.
Many of the naked people I see would be dead. Because of my film choices this is true. This is certainly the case in Autopsy. I have never seen so many dead chicks' boobs. Even the big fat dead lady has hers on gratuitous display. People went nuts in this country when one Katie Holmes portrayed a corpse with her tits out in The Gift. If Autopsy had been released in the US it probably would have caused the death rate to rise, not because of the theme of suicide, but because Americans are so uptight about sex they'd be dropping dead at the sight of so many boobs.
I would feel the urge to light a cigarette out of someone else's pack, take one drag and then put it out. Ok, maybe I did put this movie on my computer. I mean, yes, there are a couple of people in my life who are actively trying to drive me crazy at all times but when I light up a smoke I smoke it down to the filter, Jack.
There would be a priest in my life who had some weird past. I do have a close friend who is a pot smoking Jesus freak, but he is no Barry Primus in Autopsy. Primus's character is a former race car driver who holds the record for killing the most spectators at a race.
I would start to have sex and then start flipping out and make the dude stop. Now, you're not here to read about my sex life, but I can tell you I wouldn't be saying come here now go away to the 1975 version of Ray Lovelock like Ms Farmer's character. Hell, he's the reason I wanted to see this movie so badly!
When the events of the story had all played out one of the last shots would be me sitting there stunned at what I had just witnessed. Now this is the truth. Hopefully if you can find this movie you will get the thrill-seeker's thousand yard stare like I had when I tried to think about how to write about this beautiful, creepy twisted bit of spaghetti horror.
Should you find yourself living in a giallo like Autopsy, don't call anyone. Get in your car and go far, far away because either the murderer is someone you know and love, the police are complicit, or you know and love a murdering policeman. The only person who can save you is yourself and you may have to chew through glass to find the means to stay alive. So stay cool, wear underwear with white clothing and don't climb up on any high places with someone who wants you dead.
