Phenomena

There's a consensus among Dario Argento fans that his talent's dropped off precipitately. Since Opera (1987) his movies have grown increasingly poor, style smothered under rampant absurdity. His most recent effort, Dracula 3D (2012), reached its nadir when the title vampire morphed into a giant mantis. Not to mention Argento's fetish for showing daughter Asia naked, beaten and raped. 

Phenomenon (1985) represents an early dent in Argento's skill. An odd supernatural thriller, it's full of gratuitous gore and weird ideas that never gel. Jennifer Connelly keeps the show from being a complete disaster, but the movie delivers few frights and little pleasure.

Jennifer Corvino (Jennifer Connelly), daughter of an American film star, arrives at the Richard Wagner Academy for Girls in Switzerland. She alienates her schoolmates when she's revealed to have a primal connection with insects. Her only friend is John McGregor (Donald Pleasance), an etymologist helping police track a gruesome serial killer. When girls at the school start falling prey to the murderer, Jennifer uses her newfound powers to track them down.

Of all the potential Phenomena shows, it's the main idea that disappoints. Jennifer's insect connection provides one arresting set piece, when she silences mocking school girls with a swarm of "friends." Yet Argento makes surprisingly little of it. The bugs help Jennifer uncover a murder clue and once save her life, yet otherwise feel tacked on. Jennifer makes a key discovery following swarm of maggots, surely something a non-"gifted" protagonist would spot equally well. It's a bad sign when the movie's central conceit feels superfluous.

The whole film's equally messy. Argento was never strong on plot, yet his films generally make sense - even the demented dream logic of Suspiria and Inferno. Phenomena chucks so many ideas at the screen that none really stick. Is it a murder mystery? A supernatural thriller, Carrie-style? Gothic horror? A movie can be all those things, but Argento doesn't tie them together. Bits of story hang there without amounting to much: characters leave without fanfare, people die gruesomely, plot strands vanish unceremoniously.

When Argento does try to make sense of anything, he fails spectacularly. Periodically the action stops cold for lifeless exposition and cringeworthy dialogue. Characters overreact to mundane developments in comical ways. Jennifer sleepwalks one night, so she's accused of schizophrenia! How does that work? Even better is a scene where Jennifer takes shelter at Frau Bruckner's (Daria Nicolodi) home, where (after friendly introductions) Jennifer instantly turns nasty and Bruckner spontaneously starts insulting her guest. Is it sublimated tension rising to the surface? More likely, it's bad writing and atrocious acting.

Even stylistically Phenomena is a letdown. Argento's baroque touches, so effective elsewhere, seem labored and ludicrous. The killings become parodic, with characters barging into abandoned houses to be carved up. One scene, with Jennifer trapped in a pool of decaying corpses, is surely as disgusting as any set piece ever filmed. The problem is it's too gross to be genuinely scary. Not to mention the killer's reveal, or McGregor's chimp with a razor fetish. Goblin's score incorporates tracks from Motorhead and Iron Maiden to little effect.

Jennifer Connelly makes Phenomena watchable. With a badly written character, she nonetheless exude scharm and charisma, propelling her to instant stardom. The other stars register little. Donald Pleasance flounders in an empty part, complete with pathetic Scottish accent. Daria Nicolodi froths and devours scenery as a mad villainess. Patrick Bauchau and Michele Soavi putter about, even more useless than most giallo policemen. The schoolgirls are interchangeable harpies.

Phenomena is a major disappointment. Far from a stylish chiller, it's a stilted collection of oddities without aim or direction.

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.

Suspiria

Suspiria (1977) is Dario Argento's best-regarded work, yet I'm ambivalent towards it. Judged purely on aesthetic grounds it's a masterpiece, a riotous meshing of imagery, sound and blood. Yet its deliberate incoherence only works up to a point, fizzling out in an unsatisfying conclusion.

American ballerina Suzy Bannion (Jessica Harper) arrives at a German dance academy. Weird things are a-doing: a student was recently murdered after running away from the school, Suzy becomes ill shortly after arrival, maggots infest the academy's attic. Other murders occur, and Suzy's friend (Stefania Cassini) hints at supernatural occurrences. Turns out the dance academy was founded by Helena Markos, a Greek emigre accused of witchcraft. Is this mere superstition or a horrifying truth?

Suspiria is a cinematic fever dream like no other. Argento and photographer Luciano Tovoli employ a wild visual scheme, splashing the screen with primary colors that contrast with odd art deco design. This unworldly quality is echoed in Goblin's soundtrack, surely one of the most memorable even: its combination of rasping whispers and shrill musical stings can induce nightmares without the imagery. The soundscape terrifies too, with evil's presence signified by raspy snoring and the finale's horrifying screams. On style points, Suspiria ranks among the greatest horror movies ever. 

Slasher movie fans will delight in Suspiria's ghoulish slayings. There's the bone-chilling opening, where a student (Eva Axen) and her friend meet a gruesome end. The gore effects are extreme (a shot of a heart getting stabbed?) but stylish enough not to seem exploitative. An even stronger set piece follows a blind man (Flavio Bucci) and his dog through a colossal amphitheater. Argento stages much of the scene in wide shot, the forces of Evil sizing up their next target, Goblin's soundtrack subdued for eerie silence and dog barking. Even the build-up can't prepare us for the pay-off - surely the worst imaginable way to go.

All of Suspiria's superior artistry doesn't stop it from being a mess. The lack of strong narrative isn't fatal: Deep Red had a simple plot, but maintained drive despite its predictability. Suspiria, on the other hand, stalls repeatedly between killings: one egregious sidetrack has Suzy visit a psychiatrist (Udo Kier) and professor (Rudolf Schundler) who provide reams of belated back story. The last 20 minutes go completely off the rails; Susan's confrontation with the Big Bad proves underwhelming. After all the build-up, vanquishing the Mother of Sighs just seems too easy.

Jessica Harper makes an appealing heroine, completely baffled yet determined to puzzle out the situation. Harper did relatively few films: her best role remains My Favorite Year. Stefania Cassini makes a good counterpart. Argento casts some interesting supporting players: Alida Valli of The Third Man and Senso plays one of the headmistresses, alongside Joan Bennett (TV's Dark Shadows). Udo Kier plays the psychiatrist. Argento enlists Rudolf Schundler as a mythology professor; that actor has a pedigree stretching back to Fritz Lang's Testament of Dr. Mabuse. Daria Nicolodi cameos as a victim.

Suspiria is a mild disappointment. I admire Argento's manic style, but his storytelling ability deserts him here. That's not to dissuade you from watching: it's certainly a unique film, just not a great one.

Deep Red

 

My strongest memory of freshman film class (save revisiting Sergio Leone's oeuvre) is discovering Italian slasher movies. I didn't care for Mario Bava's rococo craftsmanship but Dario Argento's stylish gialli hit the spot. The American slashers who shamelessly copy them pale in comparison.

Deep Red (1975) is probably Argento's best film. Like the best horror movies its rich subtext and impeccable style overwhelm the paper-thin plot. Combining the twisted psychology of Alfred Hitchcock with Michelangelo Antonioni's voyeur preoccupations, it packs a bloody punch.

Mark Daly (David Hemmings) is a jazz musician-turned-teacher living in Rome. He witnesses the murder of psychic Helga (Macha Meril), who'd had a vision of a long-ago crime. With the help of flirty reporter Gianna (Daria Nicolodi) and wastrel friend Carlo (Gabriele Lava) Mark edges closer to the truth. The killer stymies Mark by offing key witnesses and threatening him. Grim discoveries at an abandoned mansion finally lead Mark towards the killer - just not in the way he expects.

Deep Red is a triumph of style. Argento employs skillful POV shots, with the killer watching a psychic conference or surveying their weaponry. He matches this with ocular imagery: one chilling medium shot has a single eye open within a dark closet. Argento crams scenes with occult symbols, garish paintings, classical statues, cavernous mansions and an eerie lullaby leitmotif (complemented by Goblin's rockin' techno score). Having co-scripted Leone's Once Upon a Time in the West, it's not surprising Argento uses similar fragmented flashbacks.

Indeed, Argento plays the homage card extensively. Besides Hitchcock's Psycho, he uses imagery from Rebecca and The Birds. He borrows from Antonioni's Blow-Up, with David Hemmings witnessing an ambiguous crime scene. Argento differs from Antonioni in making the murder real, but having Mark misremember a crucial detail. Sources as disparate as Edgar Allan Poe (the wall-entombed body) and Charade (a dying message scrawled on steamed glass) also get shout-outs. Deep Red blends these borrowings into a pleasingly nasty cocktail.

Deep Red delivers some twisted death scenes. One unlucky victim gets scalded in a bathtub, another harassed by a ventriloquist dummy before being bludgeoned. Both villains meet decidedly gruesome ends, including a unique decapitation. That's not even mentioning unfortunate birds and lizards. Blood aside, its sheer nihilism may put viewers off.

If Argento and Bava owe Hitchcock a huge debt, American slashers pilfered them even more flagrantly, borrowing the murders while missing their skill. John Carpenter lifted Argento's image of a child pondering a bloody knife for Halloween, while Friday the 13th outright stole several murders from Bava's Bay of Blood. Deep Red is positively tasteful compared to dreck like Saw and Hostel, where sadistic defilement is the only attraction.

Using Psycho as a template, Argento probes psychological trauma that makes Norman Bates look well-adjusted. Gender identities are constantly at play: after Mark asserts masculine superiority, Gianna beats him at arm wrestling! Carlo proves a closeted gay with a drinking problem, his mother (Clara Clamai) a bit too close. One clever twist comes when Gianna is non-fatally stabbed; the real killer wouldn't be so, erm, impotent. This isn't mentioning the creepy little girl (Nicoletta Elmi) impaling lizards on straight pins...

Deep Red skilfully uses humor to set up deaths. One subplot largely cut from earlier releases sees Mark harassed by a boorish police inspector (Eros Pagni). Indeed, Argento implies that an impending police strike forces Mark to do their work! Painful irony dominates: a crack about Mark bashing the piano keys like his father's teeth turns sour when a murder victim meets that very fate. Similarly, Mark gets scalded by an espresso machine shortly before the bathtub encounter.

Admittedly the story takes a familiar whodunnit track: if nothing else, the limited cast narrows the suspect field. Yet Argento transcends this with a double-twist and misleading clues. By employing such rich visuals, Argento sneaks subtle hints undetectable at a naked glimpse. It's chilling to revisit the initial crime scene with foreknowledge of its twist. A grisly drawing at the mansion is a red herring yet leads Mark indirectly to the real killer. Deep Red misdirects the audience with uncommon skill.

Acting is not Deep Red's strong point. David Hemmings (Charge of the Light Brigade) plays Mark snide and sarcastic, a less appealing take on his Blow-Up protagonist. Daria Nicolodi (Mrs. Argento) is charming but her character seems inconsistent: one scene playful, the next ambitious, finally romantic. Gabriele Lavia makes Carlo a pathetic sad sack while Clara Clamai broadly overacts.

Deep Red isn't everyone's cup of tea: it's short on story, likeable characters or nuance, and full of bloody mayhem. Yet Argento's intoxicating direction elevates this butcher's yard into something like art. From a blogger who usually loathes slasher flicks, that's saying something.