Since its premiere at the Venice Film Festival, Luca Guadagnino's Suspiria has drawn comparisons to Darren Aronofsky's mother!, which captured the rapt attention of the film world for a few brief weeks in Fall 2017. To be clear, the comparison is mostly rooted in each film's madness and eventual divisiveness; Aronofsky's Biblical horror story received the dreaded "F" CinemaScore, and it was widely professed that Guadagnino's witch saga would be greeted with the same reception (CinemaScore was irrelevant because of the limited release strategy).
As someone who placed mother! on their Top 10 list last year, I couldn't have been more thrilled. And yet, I forgot something fairly significant about that film. When I saw it in theaters, I nearly had a panic attack during the middle of the third act. I wasn't scared, but I felt the impact of the mayhem so intensely that I almost left the theater to take a breather.
I bring this up because, yes, a similar situation occurred as Guadagnino's ambitious, epic remake of Dario Argento's classic horror film reached its fifth and sixth acts. There are disturbing and unsettling sequences throughout this venture into the unknown, particularly a bone-snapping, bodily fluid-filled scene in the second act that had me watching the screen in a state of awestruck terror. Guadagnino's taste for the extreme rears its head early in Suspiria, but it's nothing compared to the finale. With all his pieces firmly in place (a process that can be, if I may say, a little laborious), the Italian auteur stages two setpieces for the ages: a dance number that left me physically unable to breathe and a finale that practically shut down my entire central nervous system.
As much smarter critics than myself have noted, there's a lot going on in this new take on Suspiria. Guadagnino's horror opus sheds light on the lingering effects of the Holocaust in post-war Germany, suggests the power and necessity of female leadership in an age of patriarchal cruelty, and seems to present an oppositional relationship between the revolutionary actions of liberation groups and the coven's own underground uprising. The set-up is similar to Argento's version, though with a few added twists and an extra dash of ambiguity. As rioters march through the streets in 1977 Berlin, our first shot is of Patricia (Chloe Grace Moretz), a scared girl with a look of pure desperation on her face. She's on her way to meet Dr. Josef Klemperer ("Lutz Ebersdorf" *wink wink*), a psychiatrist who has been assisting Patricia on a regular basis. The young dancer insists that witches at the Markos company are trying to get inside her head; Klemperer is obviously skeptical.
After her exile from the company, Patricia is never seen again. From here, we meet Susie Bannion (Dakota Johnson), a young Mennonite girl who has traveled all the way from the U.S. to audition. When she performs a spectacular, sensual dance, Susie immediately catches the attention of Madame Blanc (Tilda Swinton), the company's world famous leader. Though the American girl traveled with no expectations of being accepted, Blanc sees something in Susie and offers her a position in the company. She's welcomed with open arms by new roommate, Sara (Mia Goth), as well as other higher-ups in the Markos group, all of whom are dazzled by her talent. But something else is going on in this ancient building. There is a divide in the company between followers of Blanc and followers of Markos, who differ in their approach to the coven's new rise. They tried and failed with Patricia, but Susie seems to be the key for a ritual involving Markos' return.
As it continues, Suspiria becomes increasingly hazy and surreal, losing its grip on reality and diving headfirst into the depths of hell itself. And naturally, it also becomes more difficult to decipher. If you read my review of Orson Welles' The Other Side of the Wind, you'll recall that I typically avoid reading other in-depth articles before writing my own review. Well, I kinda broke my own rule for Guadagnino's latest. I couldn't help myself- as frequently as I got what Suspiria was going for, other plot strands and individual moments left me puzzled. It is not a film that can be easily digested in one viewing, which makes its presence in the thick of awards season just a bit frustrating. I can't wait to dig in more, and I'm well aware that many, many additional viewings lie ahead.
What makes Suspiria something of a new masterwork is that it can be experienced on two distinct wavelengths: an intellectual frequency and an experiential one. Now, I don't want to suggest that these two frequencies are somehow mutually exclusive. The film's artier digressions make it a fascinating text, one that inevitably leads to a number of impressive thinkpieces. As you watch Guadagnino's ambitious web of terror, it's impossible not to pick up on a number of minor thematic strands. It's particularly alluring to see the development of connections between the supernatural and the expression of artistic talent, between sexuality and revolution. Patricia worked with members of the Baader-Meinhof group, but was she missing out on the real uprising all along? The perfect and the nightmarish clash, and it's gorgeous to watch.
One day, I hope to have a strong enough understanding of everything in Guadagnino's film to write a comprehensive piece of my own.
Today is not that day.
Instead, my first experience with this new Suspiria was a more primal one, occurring on a level of physical affect that is unparalleled by any film in 2018. Working with a seemingly boundless degree of artistic freedom and the ability to luxuriate in a world of his own creation, Guadagnino takes a measured approach to his seduction of the viewer. His filmmaking is both elaborate and jagged, an enticing concoction meant to draw you in and smack you awake again. A crucial long take introduces us to the dynamics of the witches with a remarkable degree of fluidity and grace, while an unnerving array of zooms and cuts immerse us in Susie's perspective. Working with Call Me By Your Name cinematographer Sayombhu Mukdeeprom, Guadagnino's grainy textures summon a mood of iciness and death, of muddy desolation and ominous dread; this is the polar opposite of the duo's Italian romance, though undeniably fitting for such a vicious film.
To go along with such a vibrant sense of atmosphere, Guadagnino's expansive scope allows him to build and intensify his mood, even if the film could use a few trims here and there. Instead of the original's crisp 97 minutes, the filmmaker delivers "six acts and an epilogue in divided Berlin." Is that a bold strategy? I would say so. There's always a risk to going with the chapter structure, but I never once felt restless or impatient. The first few acts are note-perfect, culminating in the much-discussed body horror scene that will certainly become a favorite of those with a taste for gonzo extremity. Suspiria slows considerably through its mid-section, but it's hard to imagine parting with much of that material. It's all too indispensable to the final act of mind-bending glory.
Of course, the finale is the main attraction. The film takes patience and it takes a degree of trust and willingness from the audience, but it pays dividends in the end. In fact, I would almost argue that Suspiria's more methodical chapters serve to ease us into a state of complacency, tricking us into forgetting what lies ahead.
By the fifth chapter, that break is short-lived. And then the real horror begins. It's not often that a trailer pull-quote for a movie lingers in your mind, but there's a great one in the original trailer for Robert Eggers' The Witch (a movie that shares a certain degree of kinship with this new Suspiria). The quote comes from Drew McWeeny, who says of the modern horror classic, "It feels like we're watching something we should not seeing." It's a brilliant line, and it is perfectly applicable to Suspiria. This is an otherworldly experience, one that would almost feel hallucinatory if it wasn't grounded in such an uncomfortable reality. As Guadagnino's narrative sprawl begins to congeal, the nightmare burrows into your brain, inching its way closer to a sensory, out-of-body impact.
Yes, the film is almost shockingly bloody and depraved at times, but that's not quite why Suspiria makes such an impression. When the climatic "Volk" dance begin, the mesmerizing, hypnotic touch bubbling under the surface overtakes the entire picture. I was totally fine, but then I felt like I was short of breath, almost choking on air. As Thom Yorke's ominous, outstanding masterclass in musical composition intensified, I nearly entered a state of paralysis. During Susie's subsequent discovery, my heart rate reached a fever pitch- the final ritual is the zenith of the film's terror. One part of my brain was repeatedly saying "Look how silly this is, look at this madness." And it is ridiculous! Watching a sub-human Helena Markos preside over a very gory satanic ceremony demonstrates a certain kind of horrific absurdity.
But my physical reaction just could not match up with my more sensible understanding of the lunacy. Like mother! before it, the film nearly gave me a panic attack- so obviously this is one of my favorites of the year.
There's obviously much more to love in Suspiria than what I've touched upon in this review. Dakota Johnson's lead turn as Susie Bannion is tremendous, and I think there's something really unique going on with horror's recent use of religious characters as harbingers of great evil. Tilda Switon is also pretty stellar in a triple role, and the supporting cast adds something special to the equation. This is a spectacularly dense and complex work of extravagant horror, and I know I've barely scratched the surface. But as an example of horror's ability to provoke nearly uncontrollable physical responses, Suspiria is a memorable experience. When it ended, I thought to myself "How am I supposed to go back to the real world after this?" Reactions like that are rare these days. Naturally, I'm more thankful than ever for a film like this.
THE FINAL GRADE: A (9.4/10)
Images courtesy of Amazon Studios
As someone who placed mother! on their Top 10 list last year, I couldn't have been more thrilled. And yet, I forgot something fairly significant about that film. When I saw it in theaters, I nearly had a panic attack during the middle of the third act. I wasn't scared, but I felt the impact of the mayhem so intensely that I almost left the theater to take a breather.
I bring this up because, yes, a similar situation occurred as Guadagnino's ambitious, epic remake of Dario Argento's classic horror film reached its fifth and sixth acts. There are disturbing and unsettling sequences throughout this venture into the unknown, particularly a bone-snapping, bodily fluid-filled scene in the second act that had me watching the screen in a state of awestruck terror. Guadagnino's taste for the extreme rears its head early in Suspiria, but it's nothing compared to the finale. With all his pieces firmly in place (a process that can be, if I may say, a little laborious), the Italian auteur stages two setpieces for the ages: a dance number that left me physically unable to breathe and a finale that practically shut down my entire central nervous system.
As much smarter critics than myself have noted, there's a lot going on in this new take on Suspiria. Guadagnino's horror opus sheds light on the lingering effects of the Holocaust in post-war Germany, suggests the power and necessity of female leadership in an age of patriarchal cruelty, and seems to present an oppositional relationship between the revolutionary actions of liberation groups and the coven's own underground uprising. The set-up is similar to Argento's version, though with a few added twists and an extra dash of ambiguity. As rioters march through the streets in 1977 Berlin, our first shot is of Patricia (Chloe Grace Moretz), a scared girl with a look of pure desperation on her face. She's on her way to meet Dr. Josef Klemperer ("Lutz Ebersdorf" *wink wink*), a psychiatrist who has been assisting Patricia on a regular basis. The young dancer insists that witches at the Markos company are trying to get inside her head; Klemperer is obviously skeptical.
After her exile from the company, Patricia is never seen again. From here, we meet Susie Bannion (Dakota Johnson), a young Mennonite girl who has traveled all the way from the U.S. to audition. When she performs a spectacular, sensual dance, Susie immediately catches the attention of Madame Blanc (Tilda Swinton), the company's world famous leader. Though the American girl traveled with no expectations of being accepted, Blanc sees something in Susie and offers her a position in the company. She's welcomed with open arms by new roommate, Sara (Mia Goth), as well as other higher-ups in the Markos group, all of whom are dazzled by her talent. But something else is going on in this ancient building. There is a divide in the company between followers of Blanc and followers of Markos, who differ in their approach to the coven's new rise. They tried and failed with Patricia, but Susie seems to be the key for a ritual involving Markos' return.
As it continues, Suspiria becomes increasingly hazy and surreal, losing its grip on reality and diving headfirst into the depths of hell itself. And naturally, it also becomes more difficult to decipher. If you read my review of Orson Welles' The Other Side of the Wind, you'll recall that I typically avoid reading other in-depth articles before writing my own review. Well, I kinda broke my own rule for Guadagnino's latest. I couldn't help myself- as frequently as I got what Suspiria was going for, other plot strands and individual moments left me puzzled. It is not a film that can be easily digested in one viewing, which makes its presence in the thick of awards season just a bit frustrating. I can't wait to dig in more, and I'm well aware that many, many additional viewings lie ahead.
What makes Suspiria something of a new masterwork is that it can be experienced on two distinct wavelengths: an intellectual frequency and an experiential one. Now, I don't want to suggest that these two frequencies are somehow mutually exclusive. The film's artier digressions make it a fascinating text, one that inevitably leads to a number of impressive thinkpieces. As you watch Guadagnino's ambitious web of terror, it's impossible not to pick up on a number of minor thematic strands. It's particularly alluring to see the development of connections between the supernatural and the expression of artistic talent, between sexuality and revolution. Patricia worked with members of the Baader-Meinhof group, but was she missing out on the real uprising all along? The perfect and the nightmarish clash, and it's gorgeous to watch.
One day, I hope to have a strong enough understanding of everything in Guadagnino's film to write a comprehensive piece of my own.
Today is not that day.
Instead, my first experience with this new Suspiria was a more primal one, occurring on a level of physical affect that is unparalleled by any film in 2018. Working with a seemingly boundless degree of artistic freedom and the ability to luxuriate in a world of his own creation, Guadagnino takes a measured approach to his seduction of the viewer. His filmmaking is both elaborate and jagged, an enticing concoction meant to draw you in and smack you awake again. A crucial long take introduces us to the dynamics of the witches with a remarkable degree of fluidity and grace, while an unnerving array of zooms and cuts immerse us in Susie's perspective. Working with Call Me By Your Name cinematographer Sayombhu Mukdeeprom, Guadagnino's grainy textures summon a mood of iciness and death, of muddy desolation and ominous dread; this is the polar opposite of the duo's Italian romance, though undeniably fitting for such a vicious film.
To go along with such a vibrant sense of atmosphere, Guadagnino's expansive scope allows him to build and intensify his mood, even if the film could use a few trims here and there. Instead of the original's crisp 97 minutes, the filmmaker delivers "six acts and an epilogue in divided Berlin." Is that a bold strategy? I would say so. There's always a risk to going with the chapter structure, but I never once felt restless or impatient. The first few acts are note-perfect, culminating in the much-discussed body horror scene that will certainly become a favorite of those with a taste for gonzo extremity. Suspiria slows considerably through its mid-section, but it's hard to imagine parting with much of that material. It's all too indispensable to the final act of mind-bending glory.
Of course, the finale is the main attraction. The film takes patience and it takes a degree of trust and willingness from the audience, but it pays dividends in the end. In fact, I would almost argue that Suspiria's more methodical chapters serve to ease us into a state of complacency, tricking us into forgetting what lies ahead.
By the fifth chapter, that break is short-lived. And then the real horror begins. It's not often that a trailer pull-quote for a movie lingers in your mind, but there's a great one in the original trailer for Robert Eggers' The Witch (a movie that shares a certain degree of kinship with this new Suspiria). The quote comes from Drew McWeeny, who says of the modern horror classic, "It feels like we're watching something we should not seeing." It's a brilliant line, and it is perfectly applicable to Suspiria. This is an otherworldly experience, one that would almost feel hallucinatory if it wasn't grounded in such an uncomfortable reality. As Guadagnino's narrative sprawl begins to congeal, the nightmare burrows into your brain, inching its way closer to a sensory, out-of-body impact.
Yes, the film is almost shockingly bloody and depraved at times, but that's not quite why Suspiria makes such an impression. When the climatic "Volk" dance begin, the mesmerizing, hypnotic touch bubbling under the surface overtakes the entire picture. I was totally fine, but then I felt like I was short of breath, almost choking on air. As Thom Yorke's ominous, outstanding masterclass in musical composition intensified, I nearly entered a state of paralysis. During Susie's subsequent discovery, my heart rate reached a fever pitch- the final ritual is the zenith of the film's terror. One part of my brain was repeatedly saying "Look how silly this is, look at this madness." And it is ridiculous! Watching a sub-human Helena Markos preside over a very gory satanic ceremony demonstrates a certain kind of horrific absurdity.
But my physical reaction just could not match up with my more sensible understanding of the lunacy. Like mother! before it, the film nearly gave me a panic attack- so obviously this is one of my favorites of the year.
There's obviously much more to love in Suspiria than what I've touched upon in this review. Dakota Johnson's lead turn as Susie Bannion is tremendous, and I think there's something really unique going on with horror's recent use of religious characters as harbingers of great evil. Tilda Switon is also pretty stellar in a triple role, and the supporting cast adds something special to the equation. This is a spectacularly dense and complex work of extravagant horror, and I know I've barely scratched the surface. But as an example of horror's ability to provoke nearly uncontrollable physical responses, Suspiria is a memorable experience. When it ended, I thought to myself "How am I supposed to go back to the real world after this?" Reactions like that are rare these days. Naturally, I'm more thankful than ever for a film like this.
THE FINAL GRADE: A (9.4/10)
Images courtesy of Amazon Studios
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