Color, 1991, 98 mins. 38 secs.
Directed by Lamberto Bava
Starring Joanna Pacula, Tomas Arana, Francois Montagut, Gianni Garko, Erika Blanc, Matteo Gazsolo, Susanna Javicoli, John Morghen
88 Films (Blu-ray & DVD) (UK R0 HD/PAL) / WS (1.85:1) (16:9), Raro Video (DVD) (US R0 NTSC, Italy R0 PAL) / WS (1.66:1) (16:9)
widow Tracy (Gorky Park's Pacula) has a problem. Not only has her famous 
pianist husband Abe died in an auto accident, but someone keeps breaking into her house and leaving severed body parts lying around. A candy store owner is gutted, a poor woman has her hand lopped off in a public bathroom, a young swimmer is castrated, and so on. The investigating police officer, Michael (The Church's Arana), strikes up a hot and heavy romance with her to keep Tracy's mind off the rapidly accumulating trophies. Michael's supervising police chief (spaghetti western pro Gianni Garko) tells him to keep his mind on his job; soon Michael concludes that Abe's protege and probable male lover, unable to cope with the accident, is responsible for the killings. But what's the mysterious link between all of the victims? 
Arana and Pacula make for pretty stiff leads, with some of the most unintentionally laughable romantic dialogue in recent memory (you won't believe some of 
her comments about her brother), but Bava's swift and professional direction manages to keep things under control. Carlo Cordio's throwaway synth score is overshadowed by the use of classical music played over headphones during the murder scenes (Mussorgsky's "Night on Bald Mountain" here but originally Carl Orff's "O Fortuna" in first run Italian prints).
Body Puzzle first appeared in the US as a very messy-looking VHS release from the now-defunct A-Pix, who licensed it out for laserdisc and DVD from Image with a better but still underwhelming full frame transfer. For some reason this film was released in mono, a complete aberration at the time even for lower budgeted European fare, and the sound mix has always sounded a bit strange with tinny voice recording and very loud sound effects and music. That sound mix carried over to the remastered DVD version in 2011 from Raro, but the transfer is a new anamorphic one presented in the aspect ratio of 1.66:1. The film still has that bright, made-for-TV look of the period (think most of Joe D'Amato's Filmirage titles around the same time) and will never be much of a visual dazzler, but at least it looks clean and fairly detailed. Relatively speaking, 
it's an upgrade considering the limited, dated nature of the film itself, which still works up a few occasionally striking images courtesy by Deep Red's Luigi Kuveiller. The only extra (apart from the one hilarious thing you get if you click "extras" on the DVD) is a liner notes booklet with an affectionate essay about the film by Fangoria's Chris Alexander and a Lamberto Bava bio and filmography. 
In 2017, UK label 88 Films brought the film to Blu-ray with a new HD scan that manages to wring just about every bit of possible detail out of thefilm; it still has that kind of bland '90s Italian horror look many fans know too well, but the appearance here is quite attractive. In a switch similar to Blue Underground's second pass at The Stendhal Syndrome, the aspect ratio shifts to 1.85:1 with more image info visible on the sides and a sliver less vertically; the framing looks fine either way .The native English track is presented in LPCM mono with optional English subtitles, and extras include the alternate Italian opening and closing credits as well as the English-language theatrical trailer (which plays up the Gorky Park connection with surprising aggressiveness). The insert booklet also contains a pair of written pieces, a text interview with Arana by Phillip Escott and one with Bava by Calum Waddell; as usual the cover art features reversible options between the English and Italian designs.
