Suspiria: A Reappraisal

            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.