This movie is the proof that the world is becoming a sick and dumb place

Ok... Let's be honest. It cannot be the best movie but is quite enjoyable. The movie has the potential to develop a great plot for future movies

Yes, absolutely, there is fun to be had, as well as many, many things to go boom, all amid an atmospheric urban jungle.

After playing with our expectations, this turns out to be a very different sort of film.

This British-made "imitation Giallo" was the only one of director Walker's 8 horror outings that I had yet to catch up with; in fact, I had also watched his 3-D sexploitationer FOUR DIMENSIONS OF GRETA (1972) and own the as-yet-unseen and equally non-horror titles THE BIG SWITCH (1969), MAN OF VIOLENCE (1971) and HOME BEFORE MIDNIGHT (1979)…not bad for a film-maker who has got only 16 movies under his belt and whose work I was completely unfamiliar with (apart from what little reading material I had at my disposal) before Anchor Bay UK unveiled their 5-Disc Set in 2005! Obviously, the film under review was not included in that collection but has received comparatively muted DVD editions on both regions. Although the film reunited Walker with the screenwriter, David MacGillivray, of his two best films – FRIGHTMARE (1974) and HOUSE OF MORTAL SIN aka THE CONFESSIONAL (1975) – not to mention his most notorious one – HOUSE OF WHIPCORD (1974) – the mixture fails to rise to the expected heights this time around.Indeed, the film tries too hard to be the English version of DEEP RED (1975) but, in spite of the best intentions on display and some decent murder sequences of its own, cannot hope to approximate the visceral impact of Dario Argento's classic slasher. The simple enough plot belies the close similarity between the two films that ultimately undermines SCHIZO: lovely Lynn Frederick is a famous ice-skating star about to wed carpet-producing businessman John Leyton who starts to be hounded by brutish ex-con relative Jack Watson as best friends Stephanie Beacham and psychiatrist lover John Fraser investigate. However, Frederick (just like musician Gabriele Lavia in DEEP RED) is a professional concealing a skeleton in her closet and is not quite the victim as she would have us believe; the spunky character played by Beacham is also very similar to that of intrepid reporter Daria Nicolodi in the earlier Italian film and her uninhibited relationship to first Fraser and then Leyton brings forth memories of the one enjoyed between Nicolodi and David Hemmings; just like DEEP RED's psychiatrist, Fraser too gets to expire via a violent death here; most prominently, there is even a séance with a murderous outcome (with the victim here bowing out the very same way that Lavia did!) and a traumatic childhood event that unbalances the beholder and turns her (or him, in Lavia's case) into a serial killer as an adult. However, Walker remains true to his exploitation roots by making the latter not a marital squabble ended by the knife-wielding youngster but a seedy, foul-mouthed and incestuous coupling between her mother and uncle!!Needless to say, Stanley Myers' serviceable score is also no consolation for missing out on Goblin's tremendous music but the film has other faults besides that smack of carelessness: although Watson is played up to be the red herring from the outset, he is too much of a character actor to be believable as a potential protagonist and, when the twist of the killer's identity is eventually revealed in the film's latter stages, it comes as no surprise at all (although it was clever to have Frederick misremember her childhood recollections to Fraser to avert any suspicions); for being a celebrated skater, there are precious few people present at Frederick's wedding ceremony and, bafflingly, no photographers at all!; similarly, why would a star spend so much time alone at home (thus making her such an easy target) and, when she gets to go out, she only does so at the instigation of her maid – who, of all places, takes Frederick to her psychic daughter…with all the potential for embarrassing disclosures that such a public visit entails?! Although Frederick is not bad in the lead (and, thankfully, gets to be naked a few times, too!), the major trouble with her characterization is that the inherent schizophrenia is not quite believable because she never acts all that rationally when in a 'sane' frame of mind anyway! Although, as intimated earlier, the murders of Fraser (complete with an extra red herring in the shape of an uncredited bit by John McEnery – Beacham's then-husband – as a threatening suicidal patient!), Watson (in Leyton's plant), the maid (a most irreverent reversal of Christ's "eye of the needle" speech) and her daughter deliver the goods, they most certainly do not make up for the lamely unresolved "will she/won't she (revert back to her evil side)?" ending at the airport!! Some final comments should go to the actors since they are the film's ultimate mainstay: after a not insignificant contribution to the horror genre – VAMPIRE CIRCUS (1972), THE AMAZING MR. BLUNDEN (1972) and PHASE IV (1974) – Frederick went on to marry (and, eventually, inherit) Peter Sellers but also, sadly, to an early grave from alcoholism at just 39!; the partially-deaf Beacham herself did her own stint in British horror courtesy of THE BALLAD OF TAM LIN (1970; which I just watched the other day), THE NIGHTCOMERS (1972), Dracula A.D. 1972 (1972), …AND NOW THE SCREAMING STARTS! (1973) HOUSE OF MORTAL SIN itself and INSEMINOID (1981). John Leyton is here a flabbier version of the one we remember from THE GREAT ESCAPE (1963) and, in fact, this was his first appearance in a theatrical film in 10 years and of which there would be just 3 more in the next 35 years!; likewise, SCHIZO proved to be John Fraser's first appearance in a theatrical feature (which had previously included 1965's REPULSION) in 8 years and his last…even though he is still alive today! Watson's film career was much more varied and prolific than that of his younger male co-stars but also included its fair share of horror outings: PEEPING TOM (1960), KONGA (1961), THE GORGON (1964), THE NIGHT CALLER (1965), TOWER OF EVIL (1972; the only one I am not familiar with) and FROM BEYOND THE GRAVE (1973).

I must confess I am new to Pete Walker and this is only the second of his films that I have seen, the other being Frightmare. Regarding the earlier film, I was extremely impressed by his handling of the story and stylish visuals and direction throughout. Quality acting--better than is usual with this type of film from the era--was a surprising bonus. The same can be said for Schizo--well, mostly.The acting here is also very good. Lynne Frederick as Samantha was really quite excellent as the doe-eyed (and very attractive) young newlywed figure skater who is the film's central focus. The actors around her do admirable work also. It seems--and other reviews here mention this--that Walker had a particular talent for drawing good performances from even the most unhailed actors; this was clear in Frightmare (e.g. Kim Butcher as Debbie) but is also clear here.Where this film is arguably weaker than Frightmare, is with regard to the storyline. While red herrings are quite amply peppered about the place--or, rather, the viewer is lead to suspect various possible culprits: the cleaning lady, the new husband etc.--the ultimate answer is hardly surprising. BUT, I must confess that I didn't realize until quite late in the game. This is something of an embarrassing admission as, when I did realize, it was an "of course, how stupid of me" moment. That being said, the cliché in question was less of a cliché in 1976 and jaded horror film viewers in the decades since are less likely to not see it coming (myself excepted, I suppose). In my defense, I think I allowed Walker to take me on his trip and I blindly followed. Perhaps this is why I enjoyed the film so much and was so impressed with his direction. In short, if you let him suck you in, Schizo will impact upon you; but, if you see through the smoke and mirrors early on, the film can only underwhelm, at least plot-wise. Unfortunately, let's face it, most experienced horror/thriller viewers probably WILL see through the plot early on. I say, unfortunately, because it will then take something away from what is a well-crafted film.One feature that interested me was the focus on the relationships in the film; particularly the notion of infidelity. The characters of Leonard and Beth are friends of the newlyweds and are presented in the midst of an extra-marital affair. Leonard has a wife somewhere who we never meet. There are suggestions of intimacy beyond mere friendship between Samantha's husband, Alan, and Beth also. Furthermore, Samantha's suspected tormentor is her mother's boyfriend at the time (her childhood), not a father or even a step-father. Now, I know these things are all quite normal and commonplace in the real world, but film-makers rarely take these paths, certainly not in what is just a slasher/shocker/horror flick after all. That the Leonard-Beth infidelity is almost wholly accepted; that the Alan-Beth relationship is merely suggested and never played up or focused on; that mention is never made of the role of Samantha's ACTUAL father; these elements interest me as a departure from the cinematic norm, especially in the Britain of the mid-70s.Another feature that impressed me with Schizo (and Frightmare also) was Walker's visual alacrity. It's remarkable how fine direction can lift what could have been a very run-of-the-mill thriller to something a little finer. Walker's camera does a fine job following Samantha around the house with jump-scares ever suggested but never occurring, at least not where and when we expect them. Watching the film, I came to feel that the intimacy with which we come to know that house, with its several layers (and wonderfully kitsch 70s decor!), corners at the tops of stairs, closets under stairs, and ample places for shadows to hide, suggests something of the schizophrenic mind--a suggestion that I should possibly have seen as a big fat signposted clue! Possibly, but Walker is quite subtle here. Certainly subtler than Nicolas Roeg's earlier masterpiece, "Don't Look Now". Having mentioned that film, I wonder if Samantha's raincoat is a nod to Roeg's classic. Considering the muted grays, browns and dark colors usually preferred by our protagonist, I highly suspect the raincoat is a very literal reference to "Don't Look Now", especially as it will be worn by a creepy psychic.Aside from Roeg, there is plenty of Bava, and Italian gialli in general, on display here. As a huge fan of this sub-genre and the work of Bava in particular (that's Mario, of course, not Lamberto!), that may further explain my enjoyment of Schizo.There are certain questions that could be asked. What happened to the ice skating? Why didn't the mother's boyfriend 'take certain steps'? How could nobody suspect/see/catch the often bumbling tormentor? But these are small matters that can probably be adequately explained away by most viewers.To conclude, Schizo is a stylish film that shows the touch of a quality director. Many aspects of the characters that it presents are intriguing and interesting to the point that it raises the film well above average fare of the era (and since!). Walker does a superb job of slowly building a sense of menace throughout the film and sprinkles enough red herrings for us to (perhaps) convince ourselves that really we're not at all sure who the killer is. However, the storyline and how it unfolds will most probably make it of break it for most viewers. I do hope nonetheless that those who see the end coming can at least take notice of how classily Walker gets us there.

Samantha (Lynne Frederick) is a talented figure-skater with a troubled past who hopes to find happiness in marriage to Alan (John Leyton), a carpet manufacturer. However, the happy day is overshadowed for her by the appearance of a heavy-set stranger (Jack Watson), and things grow worse as people around her begin to die in horrible ways… This is one of those cheesy British horror flicks that would have easily-pleased teens flocking to the local Odeon back in the mid 70s, but by the early 80s its betamax-size video box sat endlessly on the rental shelves. With a plot of a thousand holes it lurches from one improbable twist to another with little regard for rationality or realism – and perhaps that's why it's not as awful to watch as many other equally bad offerings which take themselves more seriously. Influenced by Italian gallo flicks, Schizo's plot chugs along at a fair old lick, throwing surprisingly gruesome murders at the screen whenever the pace shows signs of slowing and ensuring that you're never bored, at least. Director Pete Walker even manages to throw in a couple of effective moments, such as the spooky séance scene and a rather clever transposition from the brooding William Haskin's pen swirling over Samantha's newspaper photograph to a close-up of her skates cutting corresponding lines into the ice. For every neat touch, though, there are countless drawbacks, not least of which is the future Mrs. Sellers' acting. Fredericks can't act for toffee and even – like most of us – looks better when clothed than naked, so there's only middling compensation from her couple of gratuitous nude scenes. (I wonder what happened to the gratuitous nude scene – like Vauxhall Vivas and Basil Brush, they seem to have become something of an outdated relic these days.) If you're of average intelligence you'll figure out who the killer is within half-an-hour, and it's only the bizarre actions of some of the characters that might occasionally plant a seed of doubt in your mind. There's some pleasure to be had from spotting familiar faces: dear old Queenie Watts for one, and a youngish Stephanie Beacham, badly miscast as Samantha's best friend. Jack Watson, a permanent fixture in 70s TV, also enjoys a larger than normal role as the sombre Haskins.

Schitzophrenia - that eeevil murder mania! The British mental health organization MIND get angry from this - hey, Schitzo was co-written by a pornographer David McGillivray, the expert of leeringly trashy, sleazy horror movies like Frightmare, so what did you expect? Something mature or at least partly honest? Or that facts would be in the right place in your mentally-ill-as-a-murderer-story? Well, this leeringly trashy exploitation of mental illness mangles the facts and slashes some victims, the truth being one of them, and all the entertainment and other value lay in the gutter. The plot? The ice-skater Lynne Frederick is stalked, the bodies pile up and a schizophrenic - but whoooo? - is the guilty party. I just tried to stay awake.