Whether or not one actually likes them, there is no arguing that Dario Argento’s films look good.  Damn good.  The shot compositions are striking and original, the colors are vivid and primal, and atmosphere oozes from every room and street corner.  In Four Flies on Grey Velvet, Argento wastes no time in getting his kaleidoscopic camera to the horror business, as the opening credits are followed almost immediately by a murder… and some weirdo in a creepy mask.  Our sexy musician “hero” Roberto Tobias commits (accidentally… sort of) the dastardly deed after confronting a mysterious figure who has been following the protagonist for some time.  This sets in motion a plot involving blackmail, murderous conspiracies, sex, and other such things that have nothing to do with flies or velvet of any color.       

Four Flies takes excellent advantages of Argento’s talents behind the camera.  Through the images on screen, the film is able to question Roberto’s (and thereby, the audience’s) notions of reality.  Did he really commit murder?  What sections are dreams and how do the scenes that are obviously dreams affect reality?  Even the scenes that are clearly “real” (in the sense that the events depicted are actually happening to the characters), Argento’s shooting style is able to make any scene bizarre and dreamlike without warning.  This deconstruction of the certainty in the events depicted makes the film ripe for transformation into other genres, themes, or moods… that is, until about halfway through when it becomes clear that Four Flies is a basic whodunit, albeit with Argento stylistic flourishes.   

Despite the film’s sensorial strengths, Argento finds numerous ways to sabotage his own film.  The “who” in “whodunit” is kept annoyingly mysterious, as scenes involving the killer are filmed from said character’s point of view until the very end, going so far as to have other characters have actual conversations with the murderer, only the audience is restricted to hearing one side of the conversation so the killer’s voice is not heard.  There are also numerous attempts at comic relief, all of which fail miserably.  Most notable are the scenes with a gay private investigator hired by Roberto.  The character is a predictable collection of effeminate stereotypes totally irrelevant to the story.  Think the collection of dancers seen at the end of Blazing Saddles except, you know, not funny.  

Even the character of Roberto, our supposed hero, is rather nebulous and unengaging.  He seems to love his wife dearly, attempting to protect her from the killer that pursues him, yet enters into an affair with a meaningless background character literally hours after sending his wife off to the ubiquitous “some place safe.”  This plot device would seem less contrived if, perhaps, there was an interesting character for Roberto to have an affair with or, God forbid, there were some sexual tension between the protagonist and his paramour.  Roberto’s behavior is even more puzzling as the majority of the film is about him being followed by a vicious, lunatic murderer, yet he seems to wander around aimlessly by himself.  Most movies would follow such actions with the foolhardy wanderer getting stabbed or experience some other grisly demise, but not Four Flies. 

Perhaps the most ridiculous aspect of the film occurs near the end, with the introduction of a technological deus ex machina that supposedly allows forensic experts to extract the last image seen from the eyes of the recently-murdered.  Well gee, Mr. Policeman, we could have used this information five murders ago!  Incidentally, this is where the title comes from.   

Four Flies on Grey Velvet may have its flaws, but it still has interesting elements.  One of the most notable of these is the disturbingly jarring score provided by Ennio Morricone.  The music in the movie is not atmospheric or merely background noise, it is weird, loud, and discordant, but still manages to add an enjoyable strangeness to the proceedings.  Interestingly, Argento and Morricone would disagree fervently about this score and would never work together again.  This led to Argento hiring the band Goblin to do the music for his subsequent films, which resulted in the classic sonic escapades heard in Susperia.   

Even with the music, the dreamlike quality of many scenes (like… the ones that are dreams), and the demeaning portrayal of homosexuals, Four Flies is still less bizarre than some of Argento’s more outlandish films, and thus its successes and failures are less spectacular.  In any case, it’s a movie that will certainly be enjoyed by fans of Argento or giallo films in general, but the best anyone not in those categories can hope for is a good laugh at the plot holes while admiring the pretty colors.