A few
years ago, I wrote an in-depth – albeit dense and hard-to-read – short essay
about Dario Argento’s Suspiria (1977).
I tried a bit too hard, I think, to dissect the film as though I was a top-notch
film critic instead of simply an avid fan with a small talent for analysis.
Time has come for a reappraisal of sorts. A reappreciation, as it were, and a short one - because it really would be better to watch it yourself.
Sitting
down with a friend to watch Suspiria
again, I realized I must have seen it at least two dozen times. Partly because it’s
a film I absolutely love, partly because it’s perhaps the most accessible and
well-crafted example of Italian paracinema I can think of and therefore I use
it exclusively to introduce friends and family to the genre. It says something
about the quality of Argento’s masterwork that it makes such a great first
impression on newcomers.
Suspiria is a delirious nightmare in
nearly every respect. It relies on a mystical sort of illogic, the kind that
confuses the waken but makes perfect sense to the dreaming. Winding, twisting
corridors that lead to rooms inexplicably filled with razor wire, blood red
buildings, and rain glowing like neon lights. The entire picture plays like a
squirming drug trip gone delightfully wrong. Even the parts that look somewhat
unconvincing now (a certain bat comes to mind) look completely expected within
the confines of this celluloid world.
On the
one hand, the film appears to be a fairly straightforward tale of conspiracy,
witchcraft, and murder. On the other, a grim journey down the rabbit hole into
a world where time and space appear to be naught but superficial trappings in
an otherwise dark supernatural realm. There is no real explanation for why the villainous
headmistresses spend so much energy at the very outset on Suzy – a girl who is
the very definition of plain when she arrives at the academy. Their actions and
attitudes serve to alienate her from the start, and in a way result in their downfall.
Suzy
Bannion, played with subtle pathos by Jessica Harper, follows every
happenstance as if it was her own dream logic leading her to the truth. Steps
leading to the right, the directress’ labored breathing, drugged wine, and hundred-year-old
legends. We don’t need to connect the dots or make sense of it as long she
makes it to the next challenge. She’s our guide to the recesses of Dario
Argento’s mind because essentially, that is what he brings to the screen.
Remarkably,
for all the confusion and surrealism, Suspiria
remains the most accessible of Dario Argento’s films. In fact, it may be the most
accessible of any film to come out of Italy at the time, save perhaps Sergio
Leone’s The Man with No Name trilogy.
That accessibility set me on a path years ago to take in as many films of it’s like
I managed to get my hands on. Subsequently I have shown it to every family,
friend, and acquaintance I could in the hopes they would enjoy it as much as I
have. And in the end, sharing the films we love is one of life’s great
pleasures.
