Stefano (played by Lino Caplicchio) travels to a small town because he’s been commissioned to restore a painting of St. Sebastian in the local church. The painting is quite disturbing and unique. It was painted by a local artist named Legnani dubbed 'the Painter of Agony' by the locals. The whereabouts of Legnani and his sisters is a mystery which the town is tight-lipped about. After his friend is murdered while trying to reveal the secret of 'the Painter of Agony', Stefano decides to stay in town, finish the restoration, and solve the mystery himself.

Stefano begins to have an affair with a woman named Francesca (Francesca Marciano), the local schoolteacher who is willing to quit her job to flee the creepy town with Stefano. The town drunk, Coppola (Gianni Cavina), reveals that he alone knows what’s going on in the town and that the secret lies in a house with 'laughing windows'. It isn’t long before both Stefano and Francesca’s lives are in danger for getting too close to discovering the truth.

Pupi Avati (Zeder AKA Revenge Of The Dead) directs The House with Laughing Windows, one of the best gialli ever made. This film is loaded with dread and foreshadowing while keeping a relaxed pace which only adds to the growing tension that keeps crawling toward the protagonist until the finale. The shots are gorgeously composed and the music by Amedeo Tommasi is haunting and sweet. From start to finish, this film sets a standard for the giallo that has rarely been reached since it's 1976 release.

The acting here is all excellent, especially Capolicchio (The Blood Stained Shadow) whose character of Stefano becomes so obsessed with the horrors of the past that he will put his own life at risk to satisfy his boundless curiosity. Francesca Marciano is wonderful as the shy and headstrong Francesca. And Gianni Cavina is perfect as Coppola, the likeable but troubled drunk. The rest of the cast come across superbly as a town full of eccentrics.

The film opens with a fantastic sepia soaked sequence depicting a brutal stabbing before the film downshifts to the quiet dread that plagues the rest of the storyline. The paranoia of the setting is easy to pick up on. It feels as though someone is always watching and a whispered word is never missed by prying ears. The tone of Laughing Windows is deadly serious tinged with strangeness and mystery.

Aside from being seemingly diseased or unhealthy, the decrepit small town in the film is riddled with complacency as well. Legnani’s paintings (which pervade the minds of the town’s inhabitants and Stefano’s imagination) are very morbid and add to the bizarre atmosphere. Though it is bloody but hardly gory, Avati’s film doesn’t need spilled intestines or arterial spray to capture the viewer’s attention.

For fans of Italian horror cinema, The House with Laughing Windows is a must-see and gets more rewarding with every viewing. Though it is not as violent as many of its contemporaries, this film is a stunning example of the giallo. Viewers will be surprised by the care and detail that Avati and company put into the film. They just don’t make them like this anymore.