Released in Italy as L’uomo senza memoria (The Man Without a Memory), Puzzle was directed by Duccio Tessari, who like many Italy exploitation directors had a career that went from genre to genre: peplum (he wrote several, including Goliath and the Vampires and Mario Bava’s Hercules in the Haunted World),  westerns (he wrote and directed A Pistol for Ringo and The Return of Ringo), Eurospy (Kiss Kiss…Bang Bang), blacksploitation (Three Tough Guys) and the giallo with The Bloodstained Butterfly and this film.

Tessari took the amnesia trope and gave it a cold, sharp, European edge. It’s less about a masked killer stalking fashion models and more about a man trapped in a labyrinth of his own making.

Eight months ago, Ted Walden (Luc Merenda) woke up from a brutal car crash with a clean slate and a vacant mind. He’s been trying to piece his life back together, but the universe seems to have other plans. Every time he crosses paths with someone from his former life, one of two things happens: they either pull a gun on him or they end up dead.

His ex-wife (Senta Berger) has moved on, thinking he’s been dead this whole time, which, in a way, he was. But the syndicate hasn’t forgotten him. They know he stole a million dollars before that fateful wreck, and they aren’t looking for an apology. If Ted can’t find the cash, he’s going to lose his life—and he’s going to take his ex-wife down with him.

What makes Puzzle stand out in the crowded Italian thriller landscape of the 70s is the character arc. It’s fascinating to watch Ted slowly realize that the man he used to be was an absolute piece of work. There is a delicious tension in watching a man use the ruthless instincts of his former, evil self to protect the decent man he’s accidentally become. And, because this is an Italian production from the 70s, let’s be honest: the man has taste. For an amnesiac, Ted knows his way around a wardrobe—the suits are sharp, the setting is moody, and the style is top-tier.

While it lacks the hyper-violent, glove-wearing killer obsession of some other Gialli, it leans hard into the “discovery of identity” thriller subgenre. It’s a mystery that feels like it’s constantly folding in on itself, leading to a crowd-pleasing, high-stakes finale that lands with a punch. Interestingly, this movie hit the screens the same year as a certain grisly little film from Texas (you know the one), but Puzzle brings its own distinct brand of Euro-cruelty that demands your attention.

I kind of love that Ted slowly learns what a horrible person he used to be and how he can use it to remain the better person he has become. Also, for an amnesiac, he has not forgotten how to dress well. Less a murder-based giallo and more an exploration of identity — with a crowd-pleasing ending made the very same year as a certain film from Texas — this one surprised me.

You can watch this on Tubi.

When a movie has the working title Want A Ride, Little Girl? you know it’s going to be scummy. What may surprise you is that William Shatner — who director William Gréfe met at an airport — is in the lead role.

Don’t be fooled by the supernatural looking poster. No, this is a slasher with Shatner’s Matt Stone as the bad guy picking up young women, freaking out Shat-style and getting rid of their bodies. He’s being trailed by a detective named Karate Pete (Harold “Oddjob” Sakata), which is, pardon the pun, pretty odd. He’s on the trail because Stone keeps bilking and killing old women for their money.

Jennifer Bishop (who is also in Gréfe’s Mako the Jaws of Death) plays the daughter of one of these older women who suspects that the leisure suit-wearing Stone is a shyster. And oh yeah — Ruth Roman is in this!

Sakata almost died making this, as the rig that was used for his hanging death failed and he was nearly hung for real. Shatner saved his life — breaking a finger in the process — and the entire accident can be seen on the He Came from the Swamps documentary.

This movie belongs to Shatner. As a child, his character kills William Kerwin with a sword in a kind of pre-Pieces opening, then murders a puppy and gets so worked up in one scene that he supposedly farts on camera. His assortment of 70’s fashions are pretty astounding and every single frame of this feels as sweaty and gross as a night in the Everglades.

Directed by Richard Michaels (Leona Helmsley: The Queen of Mean) and penned by Leigh Chapman, the former actress turned screenwriter who wrote the Chuck Norris cult hit The Octagon, this film is a strange cocktail of industry cynicism and low-budget grit.

The film stars Adam Roarke as Person and Larry Bishop as Brandy. If those names sound familiar, they should; both were staples of the leather-and-chrome biker circuit (Hells Angels on Wheels, The Savage Seven). Here, they play two stuntmen who have finally had enough of the shallow Tinseltown grind. Trading the movie set for the open road, they decide to pivot into the high-stakes world of international narcotics. Joined by Person’s sister Brigitte, played by the ethereal Alexandra Hay (Skidoo), the trio heads south of the border to move weight across Mexico.

There’s no real story to speak of, but it does feature early roles for Penny Marshall and Rob Reiner as the couple the bikers are buying drugs from. Despite being filmed in 1971, it sat on a shelf for three years. When it finally emerged, it felt less like a hard-hitting crime drama and more like a nihilistic, 84-minute sitcom episode where the punchlines are replaced by dust and desperation.

There isn’t a traditional story to cling to. Instead, the film functions as a vibe-heavy road movie. It’s a hazy journey through the desert that feels exactly like the era it was born in—unfiltered, aimless, and slightly hungover. Whether that’s your jam or a total drag depends entirely on how much you value vibe over plot. As they say, your mileage may vary.

Cugini Carnali translates as First Cousins, but this movie was also titled The Visitor, Hot and Bothered, La Prima, Loving Cousins, and High School Girl.

This is the story of Nico d’Altamura (Alredo Pea, who was also in two other commedia sexy all’italiana, the Dagmar Lassander-starring Classe Mista and the Edwige Fenech movie The School Teacher), who is a shy sixteen-year-old who falls in love with his city-born cousin Sonia (Susan Player, Invasion of the Bee Girls, Malibu Beach).

This comes from director Sergio Martino, who you may know better from his early 70s master class on making giallo — Your Vice Is a Locked Room, and Only I Have the Key, All the Colors of the Dark, Torso, The Strange Vice of Mrs. Wardh, The Case of the Scorpion’s Tail — or his sexy bedroom movies with Edwige Fenech.

Nico comes from a more provincial family than Sonia, and while his parents are strict, they have their secrets. His father is sleeping with the family maid (Rosalba Neri, Lady Frankenstein) and also waiting for their uncle to die, but he keeps alive either out of spite or to keep sleeping with prostitutes. When Sonia comes to town, she causes a scandal by wearing miniskirts to church and sunbathing nude, but let’s face it, Nico has no idea what he’s in for.

Martino was a genre hopper. The year after this movie, he made two poliziotteschi (Gambling City and Silent Action), a giallo (The Suspicious Death of a Minor), and Sex With a Smile, which features Barbara Bouchet, Fenech, and Marty Feldman. This may not be his best movie, but it’s not his worst.

I’m still trying to figure this out.

Made as Nightmare at Blood Castle, this is about Dr. Arthur Blackwood (Bill Greer, who co-wrote the script with Deedy Peters, who were a comedy team; he would go on to write and produce House Calls, Goodnight Beantown and Charles In Charge; she would be in 17 episodes of House Calls), who runs his own sanitarium and is doing experiments on the forces of evil. Deedy also plays his wife in this, who is working with the sheriff (Jim Dean) to figure out why some teens have been killed. She should be looking inside her own house, as her husband has a hunchback (Pierre Agostino) and they’re whipping girls and locking people up in cages.

This is the kind of movie that has a wig budget, a spaghetti monster, guillotine suicide and dialogue with lines such as “When I saw Mr. Zolak’s head severed from his body, I felt a definite sexual thrill. I must be very careful.” Also snakes.

Somehow, this is PG. 1970s PG. You know what that means.

Director Charles Nizet also made The Ravager, Voodoo Heartbeat and Rescue Force. There’s nothing like this, a regional movie in the desert that has women put in coffins with poisonous snakes and it feels perverted but it’s not as dirty as it feels, which means that it’s really deranged.

A cave blows up at the end. I still, as I said, have no idea why.

You can watch this on YouTube.

Here’s a drink.

Spaghetti Monster (based on the drink from Strawbs Bar in Leeds, England)

• 1 oz. vodka
• 1 oz. gin
• 1 oz. rum
• 1 oz. tequila
• 4 oz. orange juice
• .5 oz. grenadine

1. Shake up everything with ice in a cocktail shaker other than the grenadine.
2. Pour in a glass and top with grenadine.

Based on The Face of Night by Bernard Brunner, this is the last film for director Henry Hathaway, who directed True Grit, The Sons of Katie Elder and Call Northside 777. It’s a blaxploutation film that was distributed by American-International Pictures; amazingly, Hathaway had turned down Rooster Cogburn.

Re-released as Super Dude, this is all about heroic black cop Ken Ramsey (William Elliott) and Julie (Marki Bey), who has been addicted to heroin and forced to do sex work. She used to be the girl he loved back in high school; now he wants to save her from Richards (Michael Lerner).

This is competently made and the fight scenes look good. That’s not why one usually watches blaxploiutation. Still, an interesting footnote in a great career.

You can watch this on YouTube.