I cannot stand remakes. Be it a “re-imagining”, a “reboot”, or a “re-invention”, I have always, for the most part, steered well clear. Call it common sense, an odd quirk, or outright pedantry, but the act of turning a movie into a series or a franchise has never really appealed to me.
Horror fandom in particularly is at odds with this. Fans have remained feverish for sequels to Halloween and Friday the 13th. One-note titbits of social commentary such as The Purge have been explored repeatedly, while The Conjuring has spawned its own ludicrous universe.
The unlikely but ingenious premise of Saw has somehow been manipulated into a lowest-common-denominator product that has been churned out repeatedly and lapped up relentlessly. All of these movies have stained our screens on a regular basis.
Halloween’s most recent resurrection proved fruitful, Hellraiser is a franchise that (on paper at least), is a natural beast for further exploration, and The Hills Have Eyes is just as shocking upon a second interpretation. Largely, however, this sort of practice makes me feel empty like I’ve absorbed a ready meal completely devoid of any sort of nutrition.
In a highly competitive cinematic market, wherein so many creative, exciting works are shunned and ignored by the general public in favour of the same sort of formula being blasted out over and over again, this doesn’t work for me.
The worst offender for such a nit-picking curmudgeon is, of course, the remake. Often, an excuse to profit off the unwillingness some have to dig out older pictures or to “put up with” subtitles. In most cases, I put the appreciation of remakes down to laziness and ignorance.
But Why Remake Suspiria?
As a schoolboy, I trudged into a seedy second-hand video emporium on a weekly basis, keen to seek out horror movies that I’d heard of but found inaccessible elsewhere. On one such visit, I landed the EIV UK VHS release of Argento’s highly reputed supernatural tale (the one burdened with a really lousy bit of artwork). I was immediately transformed. Even at that young age, I’d seen quite a lot of fantastical cinematic offerings, but nothing like this.
It was chaotic, wildly bursting with colourful sets, matched only by the vivid lashings of blood. It had a paper-thin plot, but reckless set pieces. In hearing the soundtrack by Goblin, I felt like something was coming to collect my soul in return for my underage acquisition of such a delight. I’ve loved it ever since, owning it across multiple platforms, witnessing it on the big screen, and with a booming live soundtrack on one cracking occasion!
Suspiria however, is almost impenetrable to many viewers. Trust me, my success rate of introducing it to new eyes is spotty at best. It’s disjointed, filled with frankly embarrassing dialogue, and like many genre efforts to emerge from Italy, blighted by awful dubbing. Performances range spectacularly in quality and characters occupy an otherworldly space lacking in human characteristics.
Despite these attributes, it’s still an absolute classic in my book, and one of the most important horror movies of the Seventies. It’s a film that helped shape and defines the entire genre in the years that followed. But the aforementioned weaknesses are precisely why I was happy to see a new variation of the title.
Suspiria in 2018 arrived not to replace the original, but to compliment it, and hopefully pry open some eyes that otherwise would not give the once-great Dario Argento a fair hearing.
Argento: Master of Horror
Given that I generally steer clear of remakes as a very loose rule, I was surprised to find myself how willing I was to let go of Argento’s characteristics and embrace Luca Guadagnino’s efforts. Maybe though, that’s precisely because the latter wasn’t going to try and replicate his predecessor, in 2018, that would have most likely been a decisive error. Perhaps too, it was because I acknowledge that Argento’s work has always displayed several traits that just don’t translate for most people.
Known as a purveyor of mainly Giallo pictures (lurid whodunnit thrillers boasting specific traits) , Argento’s 1977 masterpiece knocked the socks off horror fans, marking the maestro’s first foray into the supernatural “Three Mothers” realm of witchcraft. Even within the realm of Argento’s back catalogue, Suspiria is something of an anomaly.
From the late 1960s, until the mid-eighties, Argento was one of the most well-regarded directors within the genre, churning out numerous classics. His first big hit, The Bird With the Crystal Plumage (1969), is something of a template for many of his works to come, and one that boasts several superb sequences. Argento notched up a couple more notable Giallo efforts before redefining the genre with Deep Red, in 1975.
The director then took a supernatural detour for Suspiria, which he also followed up within the same ballpark, in the shape of 1980’s sequel, Inferno. 1982 saw Argento return to familiar territory with Tenebrae, a dizzying but brilliant Giallo, and his last unreservedly brilliant film. His uneven Jennifer Connolly vehicle Phenomena is perhaps too bonkers for its own good.
Despite superb set-pieces, it’s let down greatly by Argento’s usual disregard for a decent script, and indifference towards performances. The standard of acting is still a haunting experience during this film, even after multiple viewings.
The Trauma and the Decline
1987’s Opera, bears quality that has been disputed, but for me, it’s largely a terrific piece of work. The same cannot be said of his first American effort, Trauma (1993). Despite notable names like Brad Douriff and Piper Laurie amongst its numbers, it’s an over-long entry that somehow manages to still come lumbered with bizarre dialogue, plodding scenes of exposition and highly unrealistic human interaction.
There are a few really bright sequences though that hint at what could have been, but Argento at this point clearly had no interest in improving upon his weaknesses. These problems were not rectified for the similarly uneven, but still intriguing Stendhal Syndrome (1996). Since then, his stock has plummeted further. Phantom of the Opera (1998) is embarrassing stuff, as is The Card Player (2004), and the Adrian Brody time-waster, Giallo, a genuinely humiliating excuse for a movie.
In 2012 Argento directed Dracula 3D, a staggeringly pathetic film, that the most amateur film-makers would surely have been ashamed to spawn. Only The Mother of Tears (the concluding part of the “Three Mothers” trilogy that loosely started with Suspiria), and perhaps Sleepless, have offered anything resembling watchable.
Despite his fundamental flaws, Argento still commands attention, thanks to the considerable strength of so much of his back catalogue. The first half of his career was so thrilling, so influential, and so jaw-dropping that fans such as myself are apparently willing to give him chance after chance to return to his former glory. Fans such as myself will never forget the reveal at the end of Deep Red, the fiery opening sequence of
Suspiria, or the astonishing tracking shot that highlighted Tenebrae, bringing about the deaths of two characters. Notable sequences from his best work are effortlessly comparable to the finest moments from Brian DePalma’s repertoire. Some of DePalma’s work has been accused of being less than the sum of its parts, but over time, classics such as Blow Out, have debunked this theory upon re-evaluation.
DePalma, like Argento, is an auteur who almost needs to be let loose to create wonderful things, with the risk being that the result is as likely to be catastrophic. Argento has always been a director of astonishing moments, of dramatic set-pieces and memorable bookends.
He takes themes and subjects, amping up the potential for graphic brutality and sass. Never has this been plainer than with Suspiria, a kaleidoscopic cinematic excursion that has retained it’s raw energy and breathtaking pizazz all these years later.
It’s that commitment to an ideal that has helped it resonate for so long. It’s also that distinction, and the life-long impression that a film like Suspiria leaves, that results in such suspicion and trepidation towards a new version. If ever there was a case for it not really mattering however and those concerns being unfounded though, this is it.
Call Me By Your Witch
Many will insist on comparing the 2018 Suspiria with the original, in an attempt to somehow position one as superior to the other. Personally, I believe that’s entirely silly and a huge waste of time. I think it’s fundamentally nonsense, especially after having seen the new picture, to suggest that Guadagnino’s film in any way whatsoever, diminishes Argento’s, or one has to be positioned against the other.
The Italian director of Call Me By Your Name may have had eyes rolling by labelling this film a “cover version”, but it’s actually an accurate term. For me, creating something different from the source is part of the appeal. I simply cannot see the need for a retread whatsoever, an effort at something new is always, always more welcome than a production line impression of the old.
Guadagnino sets his action in 1977 Berlin, in what is a nice touch, but also a period that allows for the film to play out against the backdrop of a fraught city suffering civil unrest. Dancer Susie Bannion (Johnson) arrives having escaped from her restrictive Mennonite family in Ohio, at the Markos Dance Academy. There, she quickly slots into a high profile role in the rehearsals for the company’s upcoming performance of Volk.
This is partly due to her allure and potential, which impresses choreographer Madame Blanc (Tilda Swinton), but also a result of the mysterious departure of another student, Patricia (Moretz). As Susie gains confidence, it’s apparent that her presence is key to a kind of evil uprising within the academy. Meanwhile, Patricia’s doctor, Klemperer, follows up on his patient’s claims that the academy is actually a coven of witches, and sets about warning Susie’s closest friend Sara (Mia Goth), of the dangers ahead.
In terms of plot, it’s fairly straightforward. However, the film is absolutely crammed with detail. Much of Klemperer’s activities feel like a sub-plot, but there’s an aching core to his story that ties together. Likewise, the terrorism and conflict surrounding the principles within the city feel like a plot device to explain away certain happenings, but contributes hugely in regard to offering the horror a sense of time and place.
There’s an underlying sense of dread and impending evil that forms the heartbeat of the film. While it’s often languid yet beautiful to look at, Suspiria certainly plays with moments of quiet, unsettling gradually, chipping at the viewer piece, by piece.
The 1977 film’s biggest flaws just don’t really apply to this standard of cinema in the modern era. While dialogue can still suck and stick out like a sore thumb, rarely will it survive the creative process of a studio release in as unnatural or stilted a form as that of Argento’s output. These really aren’t two works that boast many surface similarities. What connects the films, is their individuality and uniqueness, as they both dedicate themselves to a divisive, but distinct style.
Guadagnino’s film is one of the rarest cinema experiences you could hope to endure in 2018, there will literally be nothing else like it this year. Like Argento, he’s committed to his own aesthetic, his own sensibilities, paring a wacky tale down and making horror resonate in simple acts such as attempting to perfect a jump. Repetition plays a role in scenes such as that, with a foreboding sense of doom surrounding proceedings. It’s spare, sparse and stripped down.
In fact, Guadagnino is oddly understated much of the way, which has probably alienated the film from a great many fans within the horror sector. The film only threatens to really veer into Argento territory in an explosive claret-spilling climax. This too becomes very much a different experience though, with a less satisfying but more unsettling aesthetic. Even in terms of movement, the film is restrained and for the viewer, brilliantly restrictive.
Dance rehearsals carry a nauseating threat, brilliantly realised in one gruesome sequence that will have some hurtling out of the way. It’s really only in the key dance performance; a blindingly brilliant five-minute-plus ordeal for the cast, that Guadagnino really unleashes a cacophony of movement and a sense of frenzy.
It’s a wonderful highlight in which the entire cast physically throw themselves into the plot. There are other set-pieces throughout however, one or two of which are incredibly brutal, and disturbing to watch. Guadagnino chooses not to extract an exploitative degree of violence from them though, instead preferring to glean his action with an upsetting edge. He also plays around with dream sequences that offer terrific, terrifying visuals, accompanied by hues of colour that do tip their hat towards the staggering lighting of Argento’s film.
Some will feel Suspiria is close to Darren Aronofksy’s tremendous Black Swan, an equally twisted, harrowing vision. Certainly, fans of the 2010 film will likely appreciate Suspiria. The most suitable comparisons can probably be drawn with Andrzej Zulawski’s stunning 1981 nightmare, Possession. Also set in Berlin, this predecessor serves up a similarly upsetting amalgamation of hysteria and isolation. It’s a repulsive, gripping film with similarly serious aspirations, with a strong investment in character and relationships.
Impressive Performances by an Impressive Ensemble
One area in which the new film, even for its detractors, seems to have hit the right note, has been in the acting. It’s a tremendous achievement from all involved. As portrayed by Dakota Johnson, Susie is a much more layered person than the original variation. Physically and emotionally, she’s a forceful, empowering presence. In fact, all-round, the film really does showcase several brave performances.
It’s difficult not to root for girls such as Sara, filled with dreams and ambition, confronted with such a nightmarish reality. In her role, Mia Goth is a curious mixture of innocence and danger, without exhibiting the same sort of strength and primal sensuality that Johnson boasts.
I’ll not go into the nature of Tilda Swinton’s performance here, just in case anyone is unaware of her role. But it’s certainly a mixed bag. Up to a point, she’s absolutely phenomenal. As Madame Blanche, she equally terrifies and inspires. In fact, all of the “coven” members are a sensation. There’s a palpable sense of dread that oozes from their kin, infecting every scene. Outside of the almost entirely female role call, is where one slight weakness lies.
Equally worthy of praise is the incredible soundtrack courtesy of Thom Yorke, one that has met with widespread praise. It’s easy to see why. The music boasts Yorke’s typically pained, expression-filled vocals, accompanied by tinkling piano notes and sparse beats that amplify the tension The track, Unmade in particular, is a beautiful highlight, which works seamlessly in the vivid scene it compliments.
Is it all a little self-important, as others have made accusations towards? Perhaps it is. The running time is certainly indulgent, and it’s very much formed in an art-house mould, with aspirations firmly aimed towards seriousness. However, that slow, foreboding pace is what sets it apart. The determined lack of humour and levity is key to the character of this interpretation.
It’s raw and primal, sensual rather than sexy, empowering rather than exploitative. This isn’t a “fun” movie, it doesn’t provide entertainment in the usual crowd-pleasing sense. Instead, it’s a waking nightmare, intended to make you think and tear away at your consciousness. In this writer’s opinion, having a sense of self-importance and meaning is a benefit to a movie, not a detriment.
Rather than spiralling wildly, it is a suffocating experience that leaves the viewer gasping for air. It’s an upsetting as opposed to an invigorating time, and that’s equally as a valid pursuit for a filmmaker as Argento’s.
Will There be Sighs or Tears?
Suspiria is the epitome of a film that is going to polarise people and strongly divide opinion. Some will find it tedious and label it pretentious. Others will refer to it as challenging and find it sticks in their head for days afterwards. I’m in that latter camp. Between the beautiful audio, the stark visuals, and the stunning performances, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the experience.
It’s haunted and followed me in the days since I first witnessed it, and few films plague me in that manner. It is a wildly differing experience to that of Argento’s seminal piece of cinema, but that doesn’t mean either detract from one another. In this case, it’s possible to not just have and eat your cake but to enjoy two very different bakes.
The skeleton of Suspiria has been dug up with the utmost respect, and ordained with fresh, repugnant artefacts, transforming it into a new experience. That’s what makes Guadagnino’s film so arresting and exciting. Suspiria is not something that everyone will appreciate, but it’s unlike anything I’ve seen in a long time, just as Argento’s work was four decades ago.
