Tenebre

Tenebre (1982) exemplifies Dario Argento's directorial MO: take a mundane murder mystery, invest it with style, splatter blood everywhere and call it a wrap. But Tenebre's marked also by clever self-reflection, as if Argento's considering (and answering) criticisms leveled at his work.

American writer Peter Neal (Anthony Franciosa) arrives in Rome to promote his latest novel, Tenebre. Unfortunately, one of Neal's biggest fans begins replicating the book's murders. Police Detective Giermani (Giuliano Gemma) fear Neal himself will be a victim, even as the author and his secretary (Daria Nicolodi) try to ferret out the killer. The killing extends to Neal's friends and associates, with an obsessed critic (John Steiner) the most obvious suspect. But when he turns up dead...

Argento reportedly based Tenebre on a stalker who threatened his life. But its reflexivity goes deeper, examining Argento's oeuvre through a critical lens. A feminist critic (Mirella D'Angelo) labels Neal a misogynist for making women victims in his book; Neal counters that he supports the Equal Rights Amendment! Neal testily denies a homosexual character is "deviant," provoking a semantic debate over the word's meaning. Argento ultimately gets the last word, using axes to rebut his critics and silence Neal's testy agent (John Saxon).

This sick humor leads to a curious ambivalence. Here Argento's "deviants" (a lesbian couple, a sluttish kleptomaniac) are victims rather than perpetrators - though since they're attractive women, the point's muted. Pretty women brutally killed - isn't that every slasher movie? Argento also shows bizarre flashbacks where Neal's humiliated by a lover (Eva Robins) cramming high heels in his mouth. Having established his misogynist credentials, Argento spends the second act murdering men. This leaves Tenebre self-aware but not quite satirical.

Tenebre's violence is typically extreme: throat slashing, dismemberment, impalement and paper suffocation. But Argento isn't some splatter hack; his slayings come with bravura style, accompanied by Goblin's funky soundtrack. One murder features a three minute, multi-floor crane shot, Argento and photographer Luciano Tovoli sizing up their victims. Another set piece shows a girl chased through a foggy forest by a vicious dog, echoing Neal's affection for The Hound of the Baskervilles. Argento incorporates familiar touches while making them his own.

Like many whodunnits, Tenebre eventually succumbs to attritional logic. Everyone's a victim or a suspect, so the field narrows as Argento ratchets up the body count. Argento avoids predictability through clever sleight of hand. He sews ingenious red herrings, like the homeless man ogling the first victim and Neal's disturbed ex-wife (Veronica Lario) flitting around. Even the climax is a head fake, replaying Psycho's expository epilogue then adding a beat. Hard to call Tenebre predictable with so much midsirection.

Anthony Franciosa (Across 110th Street) makes Neal alternately likeable and arrogant, providing a solid center. Giuliano Gemma (The Price of Power) is a detective more interested in Neal's novels than the murderer. Daria Nicolodi is more subdued than in Deep Red, to the film's detriment. John Steiner plays his menacing figure a bit too broadly.

Like any good horror film, Tenebre offers plenty for dissection, literal and philosphical. Pseudo-snobs like me can chew over Argento's intertexual musings. Gore mavens can relish the stylish slayings. Everyone walks away happy.