Cinematography, set decoration and wardrobe are magnificent, but what a botched-up screenplay! You just know something is amiss and the final explanation just won't stand the least scrutiny. Ever tried to place a reel-to-reel tape recorder under the victim's pillow and operate it without a remote control? Ever gobbled a suspicious medication for weeks without inquiring what the heck it might be? The ever-watching drinking-pal-turned-doctor who just happens to be out overnight when the hero discovers all about the diabolical setup, the leading lady who certainly was not selected for her acting talent, the fetishist clone of Inspector Clouzot's Asian servant, Claude Piéplu's outré decorator number, everything in there will just make you scream uncle. Well, there still remains Delon, waking up from a 3-week coma after a car accident without a scar, just a stiff maxillary, and yes, the very good trombone jazz tune during the very "moving" opening credits (no mention of the composer, though). Lots of second-degree fun, not unlike a "good" monster movie. Try it as a double-header after Lelouch's Marriage, for instance.
Review of Diabolically Yours
