Brazilian beauty Florinda Bolkan (DON'T TORTURE A DUCKLING) stars as Carol Hammond, a woman fearing she has lost her mind. Despite the repeated assurance of her psychiatrist Dr. Kerr (George Rigaud), Carol finds it quite difficult to shake her recurring nightmares of perversity and horror. Things take a dramatic turn for the worse when Carol's latest nightmare- in which she stabs her disruptive, noisy hippie neighbor Julia (Anita Strindberg, a star of many giallos of this period)- becomes all too real. Carol is soon apprehended when some of her belongings (including a paper knife and a fur coat) have turned up missing, only to be found at the crime scene. But it wouldn't be a giallo if things were so simple. Contained in the increasingly complex latticework of the murder are an unfaithful husband (Jean Sorel), a murderous, psychotic hippie and an ugly case of blackmail involving a member of the Hammond family. As the investigation progresses, Carol's nightmares continue and more bodies pile up, until the true murderer is discovered.

From the psychedelic lighting of the credit sequence to the somber panning out of a London graveyard, LIZARD is one of Fulci's most exuberant and vibrant films. The film possesses a trenchant visual style that few giallos could match. Luigi Kuveiller, the man responsible for the striking compositions in Argento's DEEP RED, outdoes even that flamboyant film with his work here, providing many tantalizing segments. Carol's dreams are both frightening and hauntingly beautiful, with bizarre, drenched color schemes and tight direction creeping over her sweaty visage. The opening sequence, with Bolkan frantically grasping at a train door, is both complex and breathtaking. Hurriedly walking off the train, she is amid a procession of nude commuters, providing a completely surprising and Fellini-esque moment. The sequence continues with her falling into a seemingly bottomless pit, only to meet a seductive, nude woman (Strindberg again), spread on a luxuriously crimson bed. In fact, many of the dream sequences are so meticulously crafted and bizarre they seem to be scrapped storyboards from a Lynch or Jodorowsky film. There is a refreshing intelligence and pertinence to the dream sequences, since they provide Freudian insights into a troubled woman's mind.

No doubt enhancing the dreaminess of the film is an equally weird and experimental Morricone score that fits the film like a second skin. Consisting mostly of subtle guitar riffs and more acoustic work splashed with a layer of synthesizer, the score is dynamic, sultry, and hypnotic. The music is tastefully placed as well, with Morricone often opting to leave the sonic field untouched, often increasing the suspense of key scenes.

The suspense is thick in Fulci's film. Undoubtedly the surreal taste of the film augments the scare scenes quite well, as the viewer has easily given up any hope of logic as to what might happen next. Not surprisingly, Carol's nightmares prove to be the stage where the most horrifying images are played out. The infamous scene of Bolkan happening upon a rack of vivisected dogs is indeed appalling, horrifying and immensely effective (in fact, this scene was so effective that fx man Carlo Rambaldi had to bring in his effects as to prove his innocence in slaying the dogs!). The stabbing of Julia is indeed brutal, actually quite reminiscent of that very unlucky ballet student in the opening of Argento's SUSPIRIA. Fulci's film has the rare distinction of being both imaginative and gruesome, often in the same scene.

Providing yet another layer to an already dense film is the intriguing psychology and commentary inherent in the film. Trying their best to enjoy their dinner, the Hammond's and company must grin and bear the constant noise pollution and raucous behavior of their next-door neighbors (who happen to be hippies). Throughout the film, the hippies and the "young generation" are found in various compromising situations (including murder) that finger them as the misfits and disappointing generation the older generation sees them as. In addition to this deft social commentary, Carol's dream sequences springboard a host of Freudian imagery throughout the film (the white swan, the open green fields) that provide an effective continuity and depth to the tried-and-true giallo traditions. Finally, the color schemes in the film is inspired, again calling on psychological reactions to certain colors (predominantly red and white) to manipulate the viewer's expectations. In one such scene, Bolkan feels at peace in an open, green field, surrounded by a white building (an institution). But soon, her (and the audience's) comfort is shattered when a crazed murderer is at her heels (just one of many excellent chase scenes). Carol's psychiatrist may very well have been right in saying "the truth comes to light in very odd colors."

Overflowing with technical and intellectual ingenuity, LIZARD is indeed a loaded film. Subsequently, the film never meanders towards inertia and the viewer never teeters towards boredom. A heavy film that warrants repeated viewings, LIZARD is a rare treat in the giallo genre, and one of Fulci's very best films. Contained in this seemingly quaint film are the graphic horrors of Fulci's "gothic trilogy" and the stylized bloodletting of the best giallos. The result is a full-blooded giallo well worthy of one's attention.