After having created one of the charter installments in the giallo genre, A Lizard in a Woman’s Skin, Italian director Lucio Fulci follows with Don’t Torture a Duckling, a transitional work which succeeds in not only issuing a scathing critique upon several facets of society, but keeps its audience intrigued to the final frame as it doggedly obligates us to ask as many questions about ourselves as it does of the possible underlying motives of the various characters onscreen.

In a secluded Italian village, a rash of child murders has occurred. As police attempt to close in on the killer, Andrea Martelli (Tomas Milian), frustrated that the slayings have not abated, implements his journalistic acumen in hopes of solving the mystery and bringing the perpetrator to justice.

Put simply, only a genius could successfully implicate such a wide barrage of personages–including a witch, Maciara (Florinda Bolkan); the promiscuous, rich daughter of a village native who returns to her hometown in hopes of escaping her drug-addled worries, Patrizia (Barbara Bouchet); a priest, Alberto Avallone (Marc Porel); and, yes, even a six year-old mentally-challenged young girl, Malvina (uncredited)–without unduly convoluting the narrative as the tension and suspense are articulately maintained throughout. This is Don’t Torture a Duckling.

Like any great thriller, Fulci’s film keeps the viewer guessing as one’s dairyaire threatens to teeter off the edge of the seat. Masterfully, the director plausibly presents most every single person as a possible culprit and, in so doing, posits wry critiques of various social caricatures and scenarios along the way. Thus, when mystical superstition’s relation to mob mentality is pressured in the midst of a murder spree, reason gives way to impulse as the filmmaker’s reputation–unjustly staked on being forthrightly gratuitous–is usurped as Fulci subtly, patiently evokes gut-wrenching sympathy for his victim of vigilante justice. Immediately following the character’s gruesome death, as the scene closes upon the figure dragging herself to the roadside as tourists happily drive by devoid of worries or concerns, the Italian auteur greets us with irrefutable proof by way of a police procedural that the recently slain was innocent beyond a shadow of a doubt.

Fascinatingly, Fulci permits his audience to retrospectively consider why various innocent parties were humbly considered before being politely excused upon the divulgence of their innocence while others were steadfastly held to further scrutiny in lieu of an stalwart alibi. Like a mirror, Don’t Torture a Duckling tells us not only about the other people passing alongside us, but affords us the opportunity to learn about ourselves in the process.

Yet, in many regards, Don’t Torture a Duckling’s finale is the work’s masterstroke for the ambiguous conclusion leaves one to conjecture as to the amount of culpability due the guilty party. The viewer’s verdict then dictates whether one ultimately views the film as either iconoclastically risqué or the exact opposite, sternly rooted in Puritanical morality.

Moreover, aside from serving as one of the greatest examples of giallo cinema, Don’t Torture a Duckling is historically relevant in that it marks the genesis of what would later become Fulci’s trademark: visceral depictions of violence. The work is also a temporal marker for the conclusion’s indeterminacy resulted in it being blacklisted in its native country and was subsequently only granted a very limited run in theaters abroad. As such, in retrospect, a contemporary audience might well chuckle at audience’s initial apprehension as one could easily cite the film, in its boldface social criticism in respect to the responsible party, as being a prophetic parable.

Don’t Torture a Duckling is an admirably balanced suspense tale which Lucio Fulci uses as a vehicle in which to examine his native land and the legitimacy of its values, ideas, and mores while simultaneously providing a forum by which his viewers can likewise explore their own opinions in relation to their perceptions of what is occurring onscreen. In the end, not only does the director create a taut narrative, but a litmus by which to gauge, not only society, but also ourselves. A film par excellence.

-Egregious Gurnow