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Gory but not particularly effective Argento horror flick, complete with his usual touches: secret villain, topless Italian beauties, and an overbearing organ score. The story is pretty straightforward, paced steadily by keeping time via body count: An American murder novelist (his book is oddly spelled Tenebrae, the movie Tenebre) visits Italy, only to find someone copy-catting the book's M.O. (See also Basic Instinct.) Is the killer who you think it is, only not to be, because that's too obvious? Ah, skip it.
