This is only the fourth effort I’ve watched from this director (whom I met and found quite genial at the 2004 Venice Film Festival Italian B-movie retrospective) and also, possibly, the worst. As was the case with THE BRONX EXECUTIONER (1989), which preceded it, this is a prime example from the tail end of the Euro-Cult era – prime because it shows the depths to which the previously invigorating style had fallen by this time! Here, in fact, we get a plot revolving around – I’m not kidding, folks – a killer phone! Pretty but bland Charlotte Lewis – in her third film after PIRATES (1986) and THE GOLDEN CHILD (1986) – is a model who, apparently, has just ended an affair; she keeps expecting her architect lover to call her back but, every time the phone rings, all she gets is static accompanied by voices from the beyond (or some such crap). She befriends a new tenant at her apartment block who, conveniently, knows of an authority on paranormal activity (William Berger) – who, hilariously, explains that the negative energy which is unleashed, say, during family arguments can manifest itself via home appliances into a deadly force (I swear I ain’t making this up)! Among the highlights...er...lowpoints of the film are: the grumpy bartender from whose dingy place the heroine calls a couple of times (it seems that the chain-of-events can only be broken by having Lewis go through her paces again, EXTERMINATING ANGEL (1962)-style!), the sheer variety of preposterous-looking phones on display, the apparatus of the heroine’s photographer friend sneaking up on her before the kill, the sarcastic cop who greets Lewis on reporting the strange occurrences (“And what’s the toaster up to, I wonder?”), the would-be rapist killed by a barrage of coins shooting out from a telephone booth, and Berger’s own bloody demise (with the phone affecting the pacemaker he’s fitted with and causing the doctor’s heart to explode)! The film’s climax is rather confusing and, apparently, finally sees all the ‘lost souls’ inhabiting a flock of doves and flying out the window of the ‘possessed’ office (a lonelyhearts service!). For what it’s worth, the score – by ex-Goblin Claudio Simonetti no less – is effective enough, despite the inclusion of dated heavy-metal numbers on the soundtrack.

I admit, I was taken in by the provocative stills of Charlotte Lewis from this film, as well as a comment on the IMDb message board devoted to her, calling this picture a "great underrated film". And so I got, with great difficulty, my own copy of "Dial Help".What a waste.Nothing but a cheaply-made blood and gore movie with a ridiculous premise which I'm not even going to repeat, with several telegraphed sequences (for instance, when we see Lewis lovingly feeding her fish, we know right away what's going to happen to them later). Not even Lewis, with her beautiful raven hair, large and luminous brown eyes, full and pouty lips, and stunning figure, can save this film. Lewis fans would be better off with "Bare Essentials", "Sketch Artist", or even "Golden Child".

Well, I was hoping I'd heard wrong about this film as I'm a big fan of Ruggero Deodato and really didn't want to see him slip up; but unfortunately, this Giallo-styled supernatural load of nonsense is just as bad as I'd been lead to believe it would be - and that's pretty terrible! The plot doesn't work at all, as the film attempts to blend murders and a supernatural theme through a telephone and it all feels very forced and silly. Furthermore, the plot doesn't make much sense at all, and you have to ask yourself "what's the point" numerous times throughout the movie. The plot focuses on a young woman living in an apartment block and being terrorised by a telephone. The best thing about the movie is undoubtedly the presence of the beautiful English actress Charlotte Lewis, and unfortunately the good points pretty much stop there. There are a handful of deaths scenes, some of which are gory; but all of which are incredibly stupid, the one that sees someone get killed by coins sticks out especially in that respect. Overall, I really can't recommend this to anyone; non-Deodato fans are unlikely to impressed, and Deodato fans are likely to find the film depressing. Avoid!

This film is embarassing. All the way through, I was waiting for the Deodato twist, or the cool disturbing symbolism, or even a hint of great Deodato camerawork, but, sadly, I was still waiting when the end-credits began to roll.Definitely the lowest point in Ruggero's career. See House At the Edge of the Park instead, and steer clear of this cringe-making killer-telephone rubbish.