Updated to modern day (the mid 1970's), the heavily fictionalized account of the murder begins with the discovery of a woman's charred corpse on a beach in Australia near Sydney. The police are unable to identify the victim and have few clues to work with beyond the woman's yellow pajamas and a sack containing a few grains of rice. Retired and restless Canadian police Inspector Thompson (Milland) becomes intrigued and begins his own investigation. Intercut with Thompson's sleuthing is the story of Glenda Blythe (Dalila Di Lazzaro), a beautiful young woman who carries on relationships with Henry Douglas (Mel Ferrer), a distinguished older professor, and Roy Connor (Howard Ross), a factory worker, before settling down to marry Italian immigrant Antonio Attolini (Michele Placido). The marriage is troubled from the start, and Glenda's attempts to find happiness ultimately lead to tragedy.
Unfortunately for giallo fans, neither of the film's two plot threads is very engaging or satisfying. The majority of the screen time devoted to the murder investigation is spent on false leads. Most mysteries include some false leads and red herrings, but usually the detective learns something from the mistake-someone is trying to trick him, or he has misinterpreted a clue, for example. In The Pyjama Girl Case the false leads do nothing but pad the running time and introduce characters who contribute nothing to the plot. When Thompson announces he has cracked the case, the viewer is likely to be baffled, since we have no idea how he could have solved the mystery with no information to go by and no suspects. Ultimately, it turns out that in order to preserve a plot twist, the film doesn't show us key moments of Thompson getting the evidence and information he-and the audience-needs to identify the culprit. The viewer feels cheated-we get shown a lot of pointless, time-wasting false leads but the REAL clues are deliberately withheld from us. Another absurd plot contrivance has Thompson deciding to meet the killer alone before sharing his information with the police. There's no logic or motive to this decision, except to set up another plot twist.
Ray Milland, probably grateful to have a leading role that doesn't require him to play one half of a two-headed monstrosity or battle a horde of vengeful amphibians, does what he can with the Thompson role, but it's a bunch of personality quirks and not a well-rounded character. Sometimes he's contemptuous of the younger generation of police investigators; sometimes he's sprightly and playful as he breaks the rules to conduct his investigation; at still other times he's grave and serious as he ponders the poor anonymous victim's grim fate. Milland tries, but he can't add up the bits and pieces into a coherent whole, and often looks a bit tired as he struggles to inject energy into the part.
If the murder investigation is frustrating, the Glenda Blythe storyline is simply dull. We see a lot of choppy fragments of Glenda and the various men in her life with no idea how this thread connects to the murder plot until late in the film (although some viewers will guess the truth earlier), and ultimately the connection turns out to be a clever plot gimmick. Since for most of the running time we don't know what Glenda has to do with the case, viewers are likely to grow impatient watching the tepid soap opera theatrics of her love life and want to get back to Thompson and the murder investigation. Toward the end the film tries to make a sort of crude feminist statement that Glenda is a victim of the selfish, uncaring men in her life, but this doesn't mix well with the early scenes in which she is depicted as a modern woman who is financially independent (albeit living on modest means) and chooses her own lovers. It comes across as an attempt by the filmmakers to graft a hip, modern message onto a mediocre story that otherwise comes across as lifeless and slight.
The actors in the Glenda Blythe storyline fail to make much impact. (The sub-par dubbing of the Italian cast members doesn't help.) Toward the end Dalila Di Lazarro and Michele Placido have a few scenes they are able to successfully play for pathos, but it's too little, too late.
Flavio Mogherini's direction is competent, but nowhere near as stylish as one might expect from the former art director of such films as Danger: Diabolik (1968). There's not much in the way of flashy camerawork; stylistically he tightly controls the film's color palette, and is fond of shooting past foreground objects that partially obscure the main action. (Not a bad approach for a mystery film in which one is struggling to see the truth.) The throbbing, disco-flavored Riz Ortolani score will come across either as hideously dated or funky and nostalgic, depending on the viewer's taste. The score also features a couple of songs performed by the husky-voiced Amanda Lear during some overlong montage sequences. Giallo fans hoping the story will be enlivened by some grisly violence or lurid sex are likely to be disappointed. Violence in the film is minimal, and the longest sex scene is (deliberately) depressing rather than erotic.
Blue Underground's DVD presents the mediocre film in the best possible light, with a flawless 16 x 9 enhanced transfer. The English dialogue track is sharp and clear, which has the unintended and unfortunate side effect of making the dubbing all the more obvious. There is no Italian track available on the disc, and no subtitle options. For extras, Blue Underground has included the theatrical trailer and a 30-minute featurette entitled The Pyjama Girl Mystery: A True Story of Murder, Obsession and Lies. The featurette (which is also presented in 16 x 9 widescreen) is an extended interview with author Richard Evans about the original true-life murder, and is frankly much more interesting than the feature film. Finally, the disc comes with a reprint of an 8 page graphic novel about the original murder by acclaimed artist Eddie Campbell.
For more information about The Pyjama Girl Case, visit Blue Underground. To order The Pyjama Girl Case, go to TCM Shopping.
by Gary Teetzel
