Welcome to The Overlook Motel, a place where under-seen and unappreciated films are given their moment in the spotlight. I hope you enjoy your stay here and find the accommodations to be suitable. Now, please take a seat and make yourself comfortable, I have some misbehaving guests to ‘correct’.
On this installment of The Overlook Motel, I am taking a look back at The Editor. This flick is a loving sendup of the giallo films of years past which pokes fun at and simultaneously celebrates the Italian murder mystery pictures that helped pave the way for the slasher boom of the ‘80s.
The film follows Rey, a feature film editor whose workplace counterparts have developed a nasty habit of turning up dead. Given that Ray is missing several fingers on one hand and several of the victims turn up with missing digits, the police quickly become suspicious of Rey. Could he be the killer? Or might he be the next victim?
It’s quite clear that directors Adam Brooks and Matthew Kennedy are die-hard giallo enthusiasts and that shows through in their work. The flick takes some of the most outlandish conventions from giallo filmmaking and combines them in a single, delightfully campy effort.
Nearly every giallo trope from the European accents to the bad dubbing and hazy, dreamlike score is present here. The Editor recaptures the feel of a bygone era. In fact, the film almost looks as though it could be a newly discovered relic from the late ‘70s, believed to have been lost to time.
One of many giallo tropes the film frequently observes is the use of red herrings. Some of the more outlandish giallo offerings would cast suspicion on nearly every member of the cast. And that is precisely what The Editor does. The viewer is given cause to suspect nearly everyone that appears in the film as a potential suspect at one point or another.
The flick also stays true to its giallo influences with a very European approach to nudity. We frequently see characters (male and female) walking around stark naked, flaunting their anatomy in steamy shower sequences or during wardrobe changes. In one flesh-filled scene, a male character looks at another male character and casually comments on his manhood. In a different context, that would be completely ridiculous. But when considering that a lot of nuances were lost when the giallo films of the ‘60s and ‘70s were dubbed in English, not to mention the generally bizarre nature of giallo filmmaking, that exchange makes (almost) perfect sense.
Aside from steadfast adherence to the giallo template, the flick also benefits from an outstanding cast across the board. But the real star of the show is Paz de la Huerta. She was the perfect choice to feature as Josephine, Rey’s wife. As a performer, de la Huerta has been known to lean into excess. And she doesn’t disappoint here. Her pouty, hyper-sexual performance is over-the-top in all the right ways. She steals nearly every scene in which she appears, chewing up the scenery like she hasn’t eaten in a month.
All in all, The Editor is an effective sendup of an influential subgenre that (eventually) helped the slasher genre take the form we know and love.
If you are keen to check The Editor out, you can find it on Shudder and Tubi, as of the publication of this post.
If you’d like to chat more about this whimsical camp-fest, feel free to hit me up on Twitter @FunWithHorror!