The Italian thriller Death Walks on High Heels is not terribly noteworthy even within the tiny cinematic sub-genre of giallo. There is, however, one scene in the movie that does jump out like a breaching marlin. It is the only film that I know of that sexualizes the eating of a grilled fish dinner.
Nothing foreshadows an evening of passionate romance like a cart of dead fish.
The flames of love have erupted beneath a pile of gnarly meat and scales.
That’s right, no silverware required. The best way to appreciate good food is by touch.
Next step, start ramming globs of flaky white meat into your mouth.
Be sure to chew carefully. You wouldn’t want to cut the evening short with a bone caught in your trachea. Well, a fish bone that is.
Here’s the Lucio Fulci close-up gore moment.
By the end, her fingertips are just covered in half-chewed fish matter.
And that calls for a little clean up.
Now, bear in mind this scene goes on for like two minutes. The images of Nicole chomping are interspersed with clips of her lover, Dr. Matthews smoking, taking sips of what I suspect is J&B Scotch and then staring at her with creepy middle-aged man-eyes. I’m sorry, but there is nothing sexy about this and, for the record, I still hate seafood.