The Eyes of Laura Mars (1978)

The Eyes of Laura Mars should be of obvious interest to slasher-flick historians. Written by John Carpenter and released just before his masterpiece Halloween, it represents a sort of spiritual prequel to Michael Myers' first movement. To wit, Laura Mars utilizes first-person perspectives to capture stalk-and-slash sequences, the very same that were perfected in Halloween. These sequences mark the central gimmick of the film, as the eponymous Laura Mars can see murders through the eyes of a killer on account of some unexplained psychic mind-meld. All told, this is among the least slasher-like of the proto-slasher films (that is, those films that predate the inception of the "slasher cycle" in 1978 with the aforementioned Halloween), and is probably better classified as a psionic whodunnit noir flick. The Eyes of Laura Mars seems almost giallo-like at times, blending Manhattan chic with late-70s NYC grime. The peerless Faye Dunaway, fresh off her deranged Oscar-winning performance in Network, turns in a serviceable performance as the titular character. A unrecognizably young Tommy Lee Jones delivers a solid supporting role as the detective investigating the murders. Raul Julia, the eventual M. Bison, plays Mars' alcoholic and histrionic ex-husband, while Brad Dourif, the eventual voice of Chucky, serves as her sketchy limo driver. This all-star lineup comes to comprise the prime suspects as more and more of the cast gets knocked off in murder-mystery fashion. Without offering any spoilers, I'll note that the killer turns out to be the person you least suspect (or, if you're into game theory, it's perhaps the person you most suspect, as inverting all expectations is a matter of course for game theorists). What really sets The Eyes of Laura Mars apart is its soundtrack, most notably a lengthy sequence backed by Michael Zaeger's disco classic "Let's All Chant." The arrangement is orchestral (at least by disco standards), juxtaposing jarringly with the vapid lyrics. This fits the uneasiness of both the 70s New York backdrop and Mars' confounding cognitive affliction exceedingly well. In the end, the visual and sonic experience offered by The Eyes of Laura Mars allows the film to hold up as a worthy period-piece for both slasher and noir fans alike.

Delirium (1987)

As genres, the slasher and the erotic thriller share plenty in common, including a firm grounding in brutal realism. That is to say, the murders and the gore and the sex and the nudity are presented as-is with little ambiguity. Delirium, a 1987 giallo that incorporates elements of both the slasher and the erotic thriller in depicting a series of centrefold murders, breaks with this trend, presenting some crucial killings in surrealist fashion. In these scenes, Delirium follows the slasher trope of moving into the first-person perspective of the killer, but this point-of-view is, contra that of Halloween or Friday the 13th's antagonists, wracked with bizarre hallucinations. As the killer stalks after victims, the entire screen pulsates red and black; when the victims come into view, their faces are monstrous–by turns Cyclopean and theriomorphic. This imaginative depiction of the killer's psychotic, chimerical delusions marks Delirium as truly inventive across a pair of genres typically resistant to innovation. But this is not the only virtue of Delirium. The film is also a cinematographic marvel from start to finish, with intricate, luminous interiors and vast, palatial exteriors. The affluential aesthetic is realized entirely through visuals. Your reviewer supposes that he is expected to say something to the effect of "but no visual is more aesthetically pleasing than leading lady Serena Grandi," but he will not. Grandi's sex symbol status precedes her, at least in Italy, so it needn't be restated (see picture). Rather, it should be said that Grandi brings an unassuming warmth and earnestness to the protagonist's role, culminating in a human grace that transcends her statuesque physique and tameless, oft-exposed bust. You empathize with her character for the trauma she's experiencing due to the loss of her colleagues and family members, and not just for the backpain she's likely experiencing on account of her Brobdignagian bosom. Despite all it's merits, however, Delirium is not without its flaws: as is typical of an Italian film, it features some improbable plot developments and sketchy redubbing. Perhaps most disappointingly, the aforementioned surrealism is only overt in the first two kills, and tapers off as the film reaches its climax. Nonetheless, Delirium's replacement of realist brutality with vivid glimpses into the schizoid visual field of a psychopathic killer makes the film a refreshing take on the slasher/erotic thriller.