Death Has Blue Eyes
a.k.a. To koritsi vomva / Το κορίτσι βόμβα
1976 · Directed by Nico Mastorakis · Greece
Death Has Blue Eyes (1976) is written and directed by Nico Mastorakis. What do you get if you throw eurosleaze, buddy comedy, sci-fi horror and espionage thriller into a bubbling Greek pot? Death Has Blue Eyes is what you get. Don’t forget to add a pinch of questionable men’s underwear and a swearing parrot for seasoning.
Robert Kovalski, played by Peter Winter (“American citizen, born in England, served in Vietnam”), and Ches Gilford, played by Hristos Nomikos (“part-time lover, part-time racing driver and karate expert”), are two conmen who find themselves in over their heads in trouble. They are blackmailed into protecting the enigmatic Christine and her mother Geraldine from a shady organisation out to kill Christine, who is a witness to a murder. Christine can undoubtedly read minds, but is Geraldine a medium who is controlling Christine’s mind?
Mastorakis directs this freewheeling adventure with chases across Athens by henchmen on motorbikes, machine-gunning from choppers and a topless blonde agent high-kicking in leather boots. Christine proves herself to be the death with blue eyes as she uses her growing power to blow up one of the men pursuing her and kill another agent with a telekinetic stranglehold.
Mastorakis made this, his debut, in the same year as his notorious nasty, Island of Death. Fortunately this doesn’t mine the depths of depraved exploitation, but provides an almost knockabout charm. The soundtrack is deep-fried funk rock with jazz flute adding to the grooviness, and then opts for a syrupy ballad when Christine and Robert frolic in the sea.
After chases, deaths and a foiled political assassination, the now wealthy lotharios and Christine settle down to drink wine and reflect on their good fortune. Ches asks Christine, “Are you sure you can’t read my mind?” She replies, “I’m sure I couldn’t read anybody’s mind, not even my own.”
Film blogger Colin Edwards describes the film as “Confessions of a Window Cleaner (1974) crossed with De Palma’s The Fury (1978) meets the tongue-in-cheek grindhouse of Brian Trenchard-Smith.” A perfect summation of a film that defies definition.
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