The House with Laughing Windows—which sounds like the title of a kid’s bedtime story gone horribly wrong—unfolds like a slow-walking nightmare that’s so bogged down in its own self-importance, it forgets to be scary. Directed by Pupi Avati, this 1976 Italian giallo-horror film might as well be subtitled “A Series of Weird Decisions Involving Frescos, Creepy Villagers, and Way Too Much Drama”.
Plot: Let’s Add a Dash of Confusion and Call It Horror
The story begins with Stefano (Lino Capolicchio), a man who arrives in a sleepy Italian village to restore a fresco of Saint Sebastian’s martyrdom. Sounds simple, right? You’d think, but it turns into a mess quicker than you can say “Let’s get lost in a decaying church with a weird, long-dead painter.” Stefano moves into a house previously owned by the painter’s sisters, and of course, they had some quirks—namely being insane murderers who apparently thought torture was the best art medium. So, naturally, Stefano has a romantic fling with the town’s beautiful schoolteacher, Francesca (Francesca Marciano), because who wouldn’t want to get involved with someone in the middle of a series of suspiciously gruesome murders?
The locals are oddly cryptic (big surprise), and Stefano learns that the dead painter and his sisters were just a couple of homicidal art enthusiasts who tortured people for inspiration. Because, you know, nothing says “artistic genius” like torturing your models. As if this wasn’t absurd enough, people keep dying around him, leaving Stefano to wonder if he’s being murdered for trying to restore a painting of a saint. I guess that’s the sort of thing that happens when you’re trying to preserve art that might have been inspired by real-life murder.
Characters: They’re All Walking Red Flags
Stefano is about as exciting as a soggy noodle. He spends most of his time whining and wondering why his life is falling apart around him, much like you would if you woke up in the middle of a film that couldn’t quite decide if it was a giallo, a horror film, or an art-history lecture. Francesca’s only contribution is her ability to smile, look concerned, and, I guess, be there to fill up the screen with some level of inexplicable charm. The villagers? They have the depth of a puddle—each one more cryptic than the last, practically foaming at the mouth with secrets they just can’t share.
And then there’s the painter, Legnani, whose legacy consists of… well, murdering people for inspiration. That’s not something you can gloss over, movie! He was the original “torture-porn” artist, except with no real understanding of what it means to be an artist. What’s more disturbing: his obsession with making his painting real, or the fact that his paintings might have actually killed people just because he needed more material?
The Horror: Where’s the Scary? Oh, It’s Hiding
This film tries to build suspense and scares with its eerie atmosphere, but it ends up being as frightening as a toddler’s art project. The atmosphere feels like a series of stills from an art gallery where everything’s painted in dull tones, the lighting is overly dramatic, and the suspense is completely manufactured. You expect something scary to happen every time someone enters a room, but all you get is more people talking in riddles and Stefan looking confused. Seriously, the scariest thing in this film is how little happens.
The deaths are nothing to write home about, either. There’s no tension, no gut-wrenching thrills—just a lot of cryptic whispers, one-too-many close-ups on paintings, and a whole lot of unnecessary crying. If you’re looking for something that keeps you on the edge of your seat, this isn’t the film. If you’re looking for a film where everyone walks around like they just woke up from a nap and can’t figure out why things are so off, then congratulations—this is your ticket.
Conclusion: The House With Laughing Windows? More Like “The House With a Lot of Unanswered Questions”
In the end, The House with Laughing Windows delivers on its promise of making you laugh—not because it’s funny, but because it’s so bizarrely incoherent that you’ll wonder if someone secretly slipped LSD into your popcorn. This film can’t decide if it wants to be an art-house giallo or an awkward horror-thriller about a guy trying to restore a cursed fresco while he gets romantically involved with a teacher. It fails miserably at both.
But hey, if you enjoy watching a movie where things happen at a pace so slow you could probably read a book in between, The House with Laughing Windows might be a good way to pass the time. Just don’t expect it to make sense, and definitely don’t expect it to be scary. You’d get more thrills out of watching paint dry—unless, of course, that paint is dripping in a creepy, supernatural way, but even then, it’d be a stretch.
