A bit of film history, folks:
A quick search of Google.com states that filmmaker Lamberto Bava reached the height of his commercial and critical success on the Italian scene during the 1980’s; and – lo and behold – it was at this time when producers hired the storyteller to make four telefilms that would serve as the foundation for an all-new television anthology. And why not? Bava had just completed Demons (1985), Demons 2 (1986), and Delirium (1987) – a Horror trifecta that won over audiences and clearly established his particular style of cinematic paranoia along with immersing viewers into such dark plights imaginable. Breaking out of the shadow of his father’s footsteps – the much-lauded Mario Bava – here the son was trying to expand the genre by both returning to basics and ratcheting up the realism. Giving him the opportunity to continue to explore such haunts on television probably seemed like a good idea at the time, but hindsight – as they say – is always 20/20.
What happened was that Bava produced content that broadcasters found these four installments – The Prince Of Terror, The Man Who Wouldn’t Die, School Of Fear, and Eye Witness – a bit too shocking, a bit too graphic, and a bit too over-the-top for their regular viewing audiences. As a consequence, the titles fell into obscurity as some do, some seeing the light of day with limited releases on home video (VHS) here and there. Languishing as either bootlegs or choppily edited fodder, the stories were mostly forgotten except by a few who continued to champion whatever airings they could muster. It was about as grave an oversight that’s ever happened; but now, thankfully, circumstances have changed.
Severin Films has once again come to filmdom’s rescue.
Plucking these features from obscurity, the distributor has put together High Tension: Four Films By Lamberto Bava for everyone’s consumption. It’s a four-disc Blu-ray set – along with an accompanying CD Soundtrack reflecting these flicks and others from the greater Bava catalogue – and it’s set to hit the marketplace in late August 2025. They’ve gracious provided me with an advance copy, so over the next few days or so I’ll be making my way through such filmic goodness, sharing my thoughts and observations on these true originals.
A quick search of Google.com states that filmmaker Lamberto Bava reached the height of his commercial and critical success on the Italian scene during the 1980’s; and – lo and behold – it was at this time when producers hired the storyteller to make four telefilms that would serve as the foundation for an all-new television anthology. And why not? Bava had just completed Demons (1985), Demons 2 (1986), and Delirium (1987) – a Horror trifecta that won over audiences and clearly established his particular style of cinematic paranoia along with immersing viewers into such dark plights imaginable. Breaking out of the shadow of his father’s footsteps – the much-lauded Mario Bava – here the son was trying to expand the genre by both returning to basics and ratcheting up the realism. Giving him the opportunity to continue to explore such haunts on television probably seemed like a good idea at the time, but hindsight – as they say – is always 20/20.
What happened was that Bava produced content that broadcasters found these four installments – The Prince Of Terror, The Man Who Wouldn’t Die, School Of Fear, and Eye Witness – a bit too shocking, a bit too graphic, and a bit too over-the-top for their regular viewing audiences. As a consequence, the titles fell into obscurity as some do, some seeing the light of day with limited releases on home video (VHS) here and there. Languishing as either bootlegs or choppily edited fodder, the stories were mostly forgotten except by a few who continued to champion whatever airings they could muster. It was about as grave an oversight that’s ever happened; but now, thankfully, circumstances have changed.
Severin Films has once again come to filmdom’s rescue.
Plucking these features from obscurity, the distributor has put together High Tension: Four Films By Lamberto Bava for everyone’s consumption. It’s a four-disc Blu-ray set – along with an accompanying CD Soundtrack reflecting these flicks and others from the greater Bava catalogue – and it’s set to hit the marketplace in late August 2025. They’ve gracious provided me with an advance copy, so over the next few days or so I’ll be making my way through such filmic goodness, sharing my thoughts and observations on these true originals.
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“A young man lies in a hospital suspended between life and death. The police know nothing about him. The patient, in his rare moments of consciousness, only remembers his gang's involvement in a robbery of a rare painting, and the mysterious Madame Jacno who commissioned Fabrizio, the gang leader, to steal the work of art. But someone is still trying to kill the patient, and as his life is continually threatened, his memory slowly comes back to him...!”
Without getting too deep into the weeds right away, let me assure you that – on one level – it’s downright criminal that this late 80’s / early 90’s production by Bava – The Man Who Wouldn’t Die – apparently wasn’t given its due until nearly two decades later in 2007 (as per the information on IMDB.com). Though it’s rather easy to dismiss the picture’s central story as being overexposed – mind you, we’ve all seen something like this before – there’s no escaping the fact that once this noirish thriller finds its pace in the second half that it’s technically staged and executed by the storyteller. None of it is particularly spooky or frightening; but maybe the simple fact that – in relation to so much else the writer, director, and producer had done – it’s more than a bit … well … ordinary.
Criminal mastermind Fabrizio (played by Keith Van Hoven) is hired by the mysterious Madame Jaclaud (Martine Brochard) to find their way into a wealthy patron’s estate to make out with a stunning collection of artwork including paintings, statues, and the like. The gang – their names are essentially unimportant for the most part because they’re eventually proven disposable with the exception of Giannetto (Gino Concari) – have no trouble conning their way past the iron gates; but once inside things begin to take a turn for the worst. Smitten with a particular Renoir painting, Giannetto decides to slice it out of the frame and hide it so that he can return for it later. Infatuated with the homeowner’s wife, the crook sneaks back into the kitchen and proceeds to rape her; before he can finish, he’s kicked in the back of the head by the husband and lapses into a near-catatonic state.
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“A young man lies in a hospital suspended between life and death. The police know nothing about him. The patient, in his rare moments of consciousness, only remembers his gang's involvement in a robbery of a rare painting, and the mysterious Madame Jacno who commissioned Fabrizio, the gang leader, to steal the work of art. But someone is still trying to kill the patient, and as his life is continually threatened, his memory slowly comes back to him...!”
Without getting too deep into the weeds right away, let me assure you that – on one level – it’s downright criminal that this late 80’s / early 90’s production by Bava – The Man Who Wouldn’t Die – apparently wasn’t given its due until nearly two decades later in 2007 (as per the information on IMDB.com). Though it’s rather easy to dismiss the picture’s central story as being overexposed – mind you, we’ve all seen something like this before – there’s no escaping the fact that once this noirish thriller finds its pace in the second half that it’s technically staged and executed by the storyteller. None of it is particularly spooky or frightening; but maybe the simple fact that – in relation to so much else the writer, director, and producer had done – it’s more than a bit … well … ordinary.
Criminal mastermind Fabrizio (played by Keith Van Hoven) is hired by the mysterious Madame Jaclaud (Martine Brochard) to find their way into a wealthy patron’s estate to make out with a stunning collection of artwork including paintings, statues, and the like. The gang – their names are essentially unimportant for the most part because they’re eventually proven disposable with the exception of Giannetto (Gino Concari) – have no trouble conning their way past the iron gates; but once inside things begin to take a turn for the worst. Smitten with a particular Renoir painting, Giannetto decides to slice it out of the frame and hide it so that he can return for it later. Infatuated with the homeowner’s wife, the crook sneaks back into the kitchen and proceeds to rape her; before he can finish, he’s kicked in the back of the head by the husband and lapses into a near-catatonic state.
Enraged with this turn of events, Fabrizio shoots the owner and his wife. Then, he orders his crew to haul their fallen comrade to the waiting hauler where they chuck him in the back amongst the spoils. On the road out of town with police roadblocks being set up to find the criminals, Fabrizio decides that Giannetto – who seems to be fluttering between life and lifelessness – will not survive; so he commands them to strip the man naked and throw him into the forest along the side of the road. As Giannetto broke the rules and is now incapacitated, he is no longer their responsibility; thus, they leave the man for dead.
As tends to happen in stories of this type (it is titled The Man Who Wouldn’t Die, after all), the criminal survives. Once he’s found by some passing motorists, he’s taken to the nearby hospital and – in a semi-comatose state – he’s placed under surveillance by the authorities. Gradually, his condition improves, but his circumstances are about to grow much more dire.
Elsewhere, Fabrizio can’t explain where the missing Renoir has gone – it had previously caught Madame Jaclaud’s eye – and now he and his surviving crew believe that Giannetto will have no choice but to cooperate with the authorities and turn on them. It’s at this point that Man becomes a relatively conventional revenge picture with the recovering robber being pitted against his friends and criminal family. There’s still a twist (or two) up director Bava’s sleeve – what with the script as penned by Gianfranco Clerici and Giorgio Scerbanenco – and yet there’s no escaping that the yarn evolves into one untimely demise after another.
Now, Man is the kind of film that even a casual viewer could nitpick to death. Some events unfold a bit too quickly whereas others imply that there’s been a passage of time. As I said above, the identities of the other men in the gang are, essentially, interchangeable: they even resemble one another so much I experience a bit of trouble early on figuring out just which one of them were the bedridden criminal suspect featured in the opening segment. Furthermore, there’s very little originality involved in the manner of their respective executions: yes, they all fall one-by-one in different circumstances, but because there’s no real stakes at play – they’re all fairly meaningless creations in a reasonably predictable world – you’re never invited to much care about them nor miss them when they’re gone.
As tends to happen in stories of this type (it is titled The Man Who Wouldn’t Die, after all), the criminal survives. Once he’s found by some passing motorists, he’s taken to the nearby hospital and – in a semi-comatose state – he’s placed under surveillance by the authorities. Gradually, his condition improves, but his circumstances are about to grow much more dire.
Elsewhere, Fabrizio can’t explain where the missing Renoir has gone – it had previously caught Madame Jaclaud’s eye – and now he and his surviving crew believe that Giannetto will have no choice but to cooperate with the authorities and turn on them. It’s at this point that Man becomes a relatively conventional revenge picture with the recovering robber being pitted against his friends and criminal family. There’s still a twist (or two) up director Bava’s sleeve – what with the script as penned by Gianfranco Clerici and Giorgio Scerbanenco – and yet there’s no escaping that the yarn evolves into one untimely demise after another.
Now, Man is the kind of film that even a casual viewer could nitpick to death. Some events unfold a bit too quickly whereas others imply that there’s been a passage of time. As I said above, the identities of the other men in the gang are, essentially, interchangeable: they even resemble one another so much I experience a bit of trouble early on figuring out just which one of them were the bedridden criminal suspect featured in the opening segment. Furthermore, there’s very little originality involved in the manner of their respective executions: yes, they all fall one-by-one in different circumstances, but because there’s no real stakes at play – they’re all fairly meaningless creations in a reasonably predictable world – you’re never invited to much care about them nor miss them when they’re gone.
Additionally, Giannetto isn’t exactly the world’s noblest antagonist, either. We’re introduced to him in that opening vignette – which really only sets the stage – and one might naively believe we’re supposed to give him a measure of sympathy. He is bedridden, and he’s clearly being aggravated by the fact that he’s little control over his body any longer. His stares indicate that he’s somewhat terrified about the things happening around him, so it stands to reason that some might begin to care for the patient. Still, we flashback to what led him to this lowly state; and he’s portrayed as a braggart, a bully, a burglar, and – did you forget? – a rapist. At this point, it’s fundamentally obvious that none of the living deserve our compassion.
Well …
Structurally, Man is about as deft as anything I’ve seen in Italian cinema and even surpasses some of flicks from here in the U.S. Bava is a master with the camera; and he stages all of this rather simply in the first half in order to truly give way for the respective chapters of the second. Each of the kills – while nothing elaborate or signature in any major way – manages to come to life with exceptional staging and editing. There may be a snippet too quick here or there; but overall, the story excels at heightening the tension awaiting each of the criminal gang as they find themselves falling to some unseen assassin who knows how to make trouble disappear.
The Man Who Wouldn’t Die (2007) was produced by ANFRI S.r.l. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Severin Films. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I can still assure that the provided sights and sounds are quite good, reportedly scanned in 2K from the original camera negative and with an English language track for the first time. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? While there’s no commentary, there are two produced shorts – an interview with Bava along with another one with screenwriter Sacchetti – and both are quite good. Surprisingly, Bava fills in a few of the blanks regarding the production; and he’s surprisingly animated about the whole shebang.
Recommended.
Initially, The Man Who Wouldn’t Die feels a bit like two separate storylines mashed into one – a heist picture mixed in with a fairly standard revenge story – so I can understand how those who’ve seen it might deem it a bit forgettable against the rest of Bava’s library. I’ll not argue the contrary, but I will insist that the second half is so damn particularly efficient that it could be used as a subject of study for budding, young filmmakers who want to learn how to both structure and edit smaller sequences of their completed wholes. Of course, there are hints of the blood and gore that inhabits so much else that the director did; but – as I said – this is much closer to your basic crime story – a neo-noir – than anything else. As I have a fondness for stories in that vein, this one definitely struck a chord with me.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Severin Films provided me with a physical Blu-ray of The Man Who Wouldn’t Die (aka L'uomo che non voleva morire) (2007) as part of their High Tension: Four Films By Lamberto Bava release by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review. This contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
Well …
Structurally, Man is about as deft as anything I’ve seen in Italian cinema and even surpasses some of flicks from here in the U.S. Bava is a master with the camera; and he stages all of this rather simply in the first half in order to truly give way for the respective chapters of the second. Each of the kills – while nothing elaborate or signature in any major way – manages to come to life with exceptional staging and editing. There may be a snippet too quick here or there; but overall, the story excels at heightening the tension awaiting each of the criminal gang as they find themselves falling to some unseen assassin who knows how to make trouble disappear.
The Man Who Wouldn’t Die (2007) was produced by ANFRI S.r.l. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Severin Films. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I can still assure that the provided sights and sounds are quite good, reportedly scanned in 2K from the original camera negative and with an English language track for the first time. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? While there’s no commentary, there are two produced shorts – an interview with Bava along with another one with screenwriter Sacchetti – and both are quite good. Surprisingly, Bava fills in a few of the blanks regarding the production; and he’s surprisingly animated about the whole shebang.
Recommended.
Initially, The Man Who Wouldn’t Die feels a bit like two separate storylines mashed into one – a heist picture mixed in with a fairly standard revenge story – so I can understand how those who’ve seen it might deem it a bit forgettable against the rest of Bava’s library. I’ll not argue the contrary, but I will insist that the second half is so damn particularly efficient that it could be used as a subject of study for budding, young filmmakers who want to learn how to both structure and edit smaller sequences of their completed wholes. Of course, there are hints of the blood and gore that inhabits so much else that the director did; but – as I said – this is much closer to your basic crime story – a neo-noir – than anything else. As I have a fondness for stories in that vein, this one definitely struck a chord with me.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Severin Films provided me with a physical Blu-ray of The Man Who Wouldn’t Die (aka L'uomo che non voleva morire) (2007) as part of their High Tension: Four Films By Lamberto Bava release by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review. This contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
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