Film Review - Suspiria
Images courtesy of Cinema Nova.
Having grown up with an affinity for surreal horror and world cinema, Dario Argento's Suspiria is a film I've been recommended countless times. With its garish use of red lights, kitschy overdubbed performances and astonishing art deco environments, it's easy to see why Suspiria is held in such reverence by its cultish fanbase. It's a film I've tried and failed to watch on numerous occasions, often being decidedly "not the vibe" during my attempts to watch with friends. What makes it such a memorable cinematic experience can just as easily be a deterrent to those unready to resign themselves and be absorbed in its chaotic, nightmarish world.
When news of a remake came around, opinions were split, as is often the case when it comes to the seemingly never-ending treadmill of horror remakes, reboots and sequels. Regardless, my adoration of Tilda Swinton propelled me into the theatre, and it ended up becoming one of my favourite films of the past decade. Bunny-hopping any stylistic common ground between it and its predecessor, the remake is a washed out, sombre and meditative re-interpretation. Seeing that film in a theatre setting no doubt aided in my ability to remain engrossed despite the hulking 2-and-a-half hour runtime and glacial pacing, and I became determined to witness the original in a similar fashion.
Following the young Susie Bannion (Jessica Harper) as she travels to Germany to study at a prestigious dance academy, the 1977 Suspiria unfolds in a manner that makes it immediately apparent that Argento was holding very little back. In what is easily one of the most incredible opening kills ever, we see an anonymous student stabbed multiple times by a shadowy figure (including through her exposed, still-beating heart), hung with electric cabling, and dropped through a stained glass skylight, shards of which then kill another student below, all while the unnerving, iconic score from Goblin pierces our eardrums. It's clear that Argento's direction is more than just a little extra, though it's a shame that Suspiria then falls victim to pacing issues, and none of the horror that follows can really match up to the absolute carnage of that introduction.
Argento has often been criticised for his penchant to overcomplicate and mystify otherwise straightforward storylines, and Suspiria definitely doesn't buck that trend. This meandering nature is hard to adapt to from a modern storytelling standpoint, but it's also part of the charm. We get some fun moments of unintentional comedy brought on by the baffling method of filming that was often seen in Italian films; the common practice was to hire actors from all over the world, have them each perform their lines in their native tongue, and then overdub the whole thing in whatever language the localisation called for. This also has the effect of amplifying the dreamlike feel of the film - one can only imagine how disorienting this multilingual method of line delivery would be on set. There's also the absolutely gorgeous set designs, lending credence to the art-above-all-else mantra of the picture.
While I do have to admit that, as of seeing the original Suspiria just this once, it was maybe a bit of a letdown, I can't deny that I see the appeal. To be fair, it'd be hard to prime anyone for the journey the feature takes you on, and to do so would in part ruin the fun. It's a thunderous Pandora's Box of a film, a disorganised mixed bag of funhouse tricks that's rewarding sporadically, but always daring.
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Suspiria was shown at Cinema Nova as a special retrospective screening.