Death Has Blue Eyes

• Nico Mastorakis came to film as one of Greece's most recognizable media faces. He'd been a radio personality since the late 1950s, produced and hosted entertainment shows on the army-run YENED TV station from 1966 to 1973, and as a young reporter landed scoops including an exclusive with the exiled Princess Soraya, access to Aristotle Onassis's yacht the Christina, and a friendship with John Lennon.
• He shot this in the same 1976 window as Island of Death, his other picture. Island of Death went on to be banned in the UK as a DPP 'video nasty,' one of the 39 titles successfully prosecuted under the Obscene Publications Act out of the roughly 72 films that landed on the list. The BBFC didn't pass it uncut until 2010.
• Mastorakis made Island of Death specifically after seeing The Texas Chain Saw Massacre, chasing the money he watched extreme horror pull in. He's gone on record that there was no artistic intention behind it, only financial lust. Death Has Blue Eyes was the companion cash-grab shot in the same Greek window.
• The score is by Nikos Lavranos, with music and songs Mastorakis had a hand in himself, who wrote and credited himself on music across his early output.
• It carried multiple identities depending on the market. The original Greek title was To koritsi vomva ('The Bomb Girl'), and it played in England as The Para Psychics.
• Arrow Video resurrected it in 2021 with a 2K restoration from the original 35mm camera negative, approved by Mastorakis, running about 77 minutes, packaged with new interviews with the director and actress Maria Aliferi.

The film keeps insisting Christine's power is a gift the conspiracy wants to weaponize, but every kill is a defensive reflex against men who corner her. Read that way, the blue-eyed death stare isn't a sci-fi McGuffin so much as a revenge-fantasy engine: the one woman in a movie full of predatory men who can end any of them with a look.

The two grifters spend the first act treating Athens and its women as a buffet, conning and bedding their way through the city. The moment they're tethered to Christine, the predators become protectors and prey at once. The movie's real subject may be men who run cons getting outclassed by a force they can't charm, lie to, or outrun.

The tonal chaos isn't incompetence so much as a TV showman's instinct for never letting the audience settle. Mastorakis built his career on game shows and celebrity spectacle, and the film plays like a variety hour, comedy, then a chase, then a psychic killing, then sex, each segment buying attention before the next. The whiplash is the design, not the accident.

Two grifters work the tourist racket in sun-baked Athens until a wealthy woman, Geraldine, blackmails them into babysitting her daughter Christine, a young woman whose stare can stop a heart cold. What starts as easy money curdles into a chase the second a shadow organization comes hunting the girl and her lethal blue eyes. Mastorakis swerves between car stunts, softcore detours, and psychic kills with no regard for tonal whiplash, daring you to figure out whether you're watching a spy thriller, a sex farce, or a sci-fi nightmare. The answer is all three, badly behaved at once.