The Return of the Witch

Have you had a chance to catch Suspiria yet? Heard of it? Suspiria is the horror film made by the practically infamous Italian director, Dario Argento. The first (and best) part of a trilogy that centers on the story of three evil witches. All of the things that make Argento the genius and the singular artist that he is is very much present in Suspiria. There is the bizarre, almost surreal performances that are both childishly amateurish in as much as they are virtually alien. Watching people act in Suspiria makes me feel as though I am watching a movie made by creatures who have studied our behavior and done the best they could with their limited knowledge: it's familiar but yet something entirely... other.

Then there's the whole issue with the lighting. Argento is a great believer in the power of lighting to create a mood. There is plenty of orchestrated, super saturated colored light soaking up the screen throughout Suspiria, and it's another example of one of Argento's more effective trademarks.

Anyone coming to Argento expecting anything close to dramatic weight ought to look elsewhere because in Argento's world, everyone is a caricature of an actual person and practically all the dialogue is like something written for a high school play, it's that bad. The thing is, in Argento's hands (at least in Suspiria, his masterpiece) this is yet another way in which Argento creates a world entirely his own, as compelling as it is creepy.

Capping off Suspiria is the absolutely genius soundtrack music of the band that effectively served as Argento's foil, Goblin. If you never took the opportunity to actually see the movie, you would still be almost forgiven if you went ahead and just bought the soundtrack. Goblin's music is both creepy and totally rocking at the same time. It's the kind of music you would kill for if you were to make your own atmospheric horror film.

The second installment in Argento's trilogy is called Inferno. Set in New York, Inferno, while a formidable film in its own right, is not quite the match of Suspiria. Sure, the building in which most of the action takes place is suitably creepy and menacing, and yes the lighting and mood is all set with skill. I guess it's just that this film doesn't have the balls that Suspiria had. It's pretty hard to flesh out a trilogy that begins with a near flawless classic. Having said that, Inferno is still a strong follow up and a worthy path towards the final entry in the bunch.

But here's where we run into the hitch. It would be decades until Argento actually got it together and finished his master work. Mother of Tears was released in 2007 much to the delight if not anxiety of his now legions of fans worldwide.

This fan would have been happier to keep wondering what could have been.

It's hard to imagine how it could have taken Argento literally thirty years to make this movie. Well, okay, it took about a year I suppose, but it took him thirty years to deliver the end to this story line, and you would think that in the interest of doing himself justice, he might go ahead and, uh, not use his daughter to play an American in Rome. Asia Argento does not have an American accent. What she has is an Italian accent with no hint of anything even remotely American in it. Her character's name is Sarah Mandy, and there is nothing Sarah Mandy-ish about Asia's accent. And, to top it off, it's totally irrelevant to have Asia's character come from the States in the first place. She could easily have been an Italian woman. This is an example of what happens when things go wrong with Argento.

Yes, the bold, unnatural primary colored lighting in on full display as is the exorbitant settings, and yes, the gore factor has been pushed to somewhere around twenty. I'll thrust my thumb up for that, but when it comes to the package as a whole, it takes no effort whatsoever to recognize how far Argento has fallen in being able to create something positive out of the tension of facing such consistently unusual elements on screen for so many years.

I would argue that what makes Argento so great is the very same thing that threatens to destroy him when it all goes wrong. The idea of the trilogy is a brilliant one. The execution of Suspiria is such that it will forever hold a place in the history of film. The jilted performances and embarrassing dialogue hang around Mother of Tears like an anchor. The witch herself is so nonthreatening, and is basically used as an excuse to show off her naked breasts as if that is still somehow transgressive in this era. Has Argento ever seen the Internet? Hell, has he seen his daughter in any of her previous movies? The witch has about ten lines, shows no personality, isn't creepy, and looks like a magazine model from the 80s in a very bad way. He should have called her the Mother of Brut By Faberge or some such shit, that would have been more accurate. And just when we finally are let down with her on-screen presence, she is impaled, hilariously, by a giant object piercing the ground in an obviously phallic fashion. Nice.

Sadly, with the tremendously disappointing release of Mother of Tears, Dario Argento has shown himself to be something I never wanted to have to admit to myself: he is just like you and I, normal.

Jesus, what a terrible thing to say.

If Argento had worked as hard on amping up the menace, and spent less time having his daughter wander around Rome with nothing important to do, this could have been salvageable, but as it is, this movie was a huge mess from start to finish.

It's like George Lucas with Star Wars. I will never forgive him for all that Ewok bullshit at the end of Jedi. When it's time to go out, go out with a fucking bang, not dancing teddy bears.

I mean, yeah, Lucas went and shit all over the franchise by putting out three more turds to cap off the whole deal, but let's not get into that now or we might be up all night with that catastrophe.

Maybe it would be cool if Argento and Lucas teamed up to make a The Witches of Star Wars trilogy.

Let that sink in.

Lasers, tits, Darth Vader, primary colored lighting, light sabers, deep and shadowy shots of tall and ornate buildings at night, mind numbingly bad-ass space fighting, and a climactic showdown between Asia Argento and Carrie Fisher replete with cigarette burns, bad tattoos, light sabers, hair buns, track marks, and bottles of pills.

I'm so there.

Who needs a screenwriter? Gentlemen?

You know where to reach me, boys.