Where do you start with a movie like Suspiria? I have neither the intellectual capacity nor the horror expertise to begin dissecting Luca Guadagnino's take on Dario Argento's 1977 film of the same name; neither a reboot nor a sequel, the Call Me By Your Name director's interpretation of the supernatural horror classic is an entity of its own, a wholly undefinable beast unleashed onto the world to predictably polarised reception and divisive reactions.
Susie Bannion (Dakota Johnson) is admitted into the Markos Dance Academy in West Berlin during the Autumn of 1977. Quickly earning the attention of lead choreographer Madame Blanc (Tilda Swinton), Susie quickly rises the ranks and starts a friendship with Sara Simms (Mia Goth). Meanwhile, psychotherapist Josef Kemperer becomes suspicious and begins an investigation after it is claimed by one of his missing patient that the academy is run by a coven of witches. We'll be covering spoilers here, so leave now or forever hold your peace.
Suspiria is a film I appreciate more than I love. That films as bold and unrelenting and unforgiving as Suspiria are still being funded and released in 2018 is a marvel to behold in itself. Particularly as the cinematic landscape becomes more reliant on tentpoles and franchises, it's important to embrace these artistic creations when they do arrive with us. Guadagnino's passion project is a well-photographed, meticulously-directed effort that pushes the boundaries in a way similar to Darren Aronofosky's mother!, but unlike that divisive number, Suspiria doesn't always justify itself.
Here, a director with his hands on a property he evidently loves gets to go to town. Guadagnino's lingering direction is terrific: the intensity bubbles away splendidly, with muted colour tones enhancing the mood pertinent to the film's success, enlivened further as a result of Sayombhu Mukdeeprom's impressive cinematography. In one particular sequence early on, edited to perfection by Walter Fasano, two very different dance pieces unfold, themselves swirling and overlapping to shattering effect; mind-bending in its craft and oh so breathtaking in its execution, when Guadagnino's lands on a beguiling sequence so brilliantly constructed AND executed as this moment, Suspiria truly thrives. It shows us what it can and should be.
Obviously strengthened by extraordinary choreography from Damien Jalet, you crave the academy-set moments of unparalleled mastery when the focus is placed elsewhere. Even the finale, whether you liked the lead-up or not, is so astonishingly ambitious and built to an unshakeable climax that you cannot help but admire its chutzpah and, frankly, balls. It's gory and gruesome and dangerous and disorientating - but rather gorgeous indeed.
Here, a director with his hands on a property he evidently loves gets to go to town. Guadagnino's lingering direction is terrific: the intensity bubbles away splendidly, with muted colour tones enhancing the mood pertinent to the film's success, enlivened further as a result of Sayombhu Mukdeeprom's impressive cinematography. In one particular sequence early on, edited to perfection by Walter Fasano, two very different dance pieces unfold, themselves swirling and overlapping to shattering effect; mind-bending in its craft and oh so breathtaking in its execution, when Guadagnino's lands on a beguiling sequence so brilliantly constructed AND executed as this moment, Suspiria truly thrives. It shows us what it can and should be.
Obviously strengthened by extraordinary choreography from Damien Jalet, you crave the academy-set moments of unparalleled mastery when the focus is placed elsewhere. Even the finale, whether you liked the lead-up or not, is so astonishingly ambitious and built to an unshakeable climax that you cannot help but admire its chutzpah and, frankly, balls. It's gory and gruesome and dangerous and disorientating - but rather gorgeous indeed.
In short, there are two plots unfolding within this film. The first (and superior) is the inner workings of the dance academy and witches convent, an exploration of power and femininity and motherhood; the other is Kemperer's investigation into the circumstances surrounding his patients disappearance and her links to the organisation, intertwined with discoveries about his own past. The secondary sub-plot is, with all due respect, almost entirely needless; it weighs down the overall narrative, working against all that propels Suspiria forward.
Whenever the atmosphere is intensifying in the academy - claustrophobic in the way gender dynamics are explored, camera angles tighten and the score fantastically swells - we are suddenly yanked out of the moment by extraneous musings and forced context. Screenwriter David Kajganich piles in the subtext to almost suffocating consequences, ladened with discussions of terrorist hijackings and divided nation in a narrative that never really requires it; it would make more sense if the messages were more tightly compact, but it sprawls, often unfocused and disjointed. Kajganich struggles to keep the subtext in the background, (puzzlingly) magnified in the foreground, but rarely enriching the central narrative.
What's more, trimming that storyline down would almost completely solve the film's major pressing issue: that bloated runtime. Two hours and thirty-two minutes run by, unnecessarily overcomplicating itself. Without meaning to dwell too hard on what doesn't work - because there is a lot to respect - Suspiria's density subtracts from the strong work done elsewhere which, compounded by the Doctor subplot, tests your patience somewhat. I tend to eat up anything that explores lost love - but it did nothing for me in a piece that obviously doesn't demand these contemplations and reflections. There's a far tighter, altogether stronger two-hour-cut of this film (heck, you could probably slash it down to the same length as the original: 98 minutes) in here. I crave that film.
Thom Yorke's soundtrack is utterly entrancing. Undoubtedly one of the year's best, it is a haunting, mesmeric collection that cultivates such a foreboding ambience, utilised unnervingly throughout. More generally, the sound mixing and editing within Suspiria are truly superlative, with the sonic landscape as viscerally-charged and exacting as the images and narrative.
It's also worth crediting the costume and production design on this film; the team behind these elements do a fine job capturing the film's 70s setting, looking every inch the part with the detailed sets and clothing. It is presented so terrifically too, with the 35mm camera footage really enhancing the tone of the piece, with the snap zooms and slow motion playing homage to horrors from the 1970s. Hair and make-up do some mightily skilled work and while character-actor trickery (also known as the worst-kept-secret in 2018) doesn't always pay off, it is a convincing output nonetheless.
Dakota Johnson need not to be defined by the Fifty Shades series that catapulted her to stardom, as she proves here - as she did in Bad Times At The El Royale - that she can sink her teeth into meatier roles with ease. With a compelling performance that skates between ruled and ruler so superbly, Johnson delivers a tremendous dramatic turn that breathes both naivety and fervour into the character of Susie. Similarly impressive is Tilda Swinton as Madame Blanc; she is a captivating presence in any film and Suspiria's Blanc is an extraordinarily layered character, as magnetic as Swinton herself and equally as engrossing. Her two additional roles are entirely superfluous though. While no doubt impressively performed, it adds little to the film and becomes increasingly distracting as the minutes drag on; when the intrigue is gone, you await the glue that will pull these separate roles together - yet nothing sticks. They do it because they can do; not because they should do it.
That sentiment is echoed throughout the whole of Suspiria. Seemingly throughout this entire process, nobody stopped to consider the necessity of doing something. That's admirable, in a way: it is a beautifully uncompromised vision that operates as it wants to, free from restriction and constraint. But it also testifies that sometimes less is more and - with no one on hand to reign Guadagnino and co in - it becomes sprawling, a needlessly convoluted but beautifully daring experience whose craft and performances elevate the more troublesome elements of the text. They've put it on the screen; but why have they put it on screen, other than to show off?
Suspiria is so pleased with its own importance and absorbed in its own conceit that it never understands when to reign it in. Take that as both the greatest compliment and biggest insult.
Summary: For better or for worse, Nu-Suspiria is a beautifully uncompromised and artistic fever vision that could have been altogether stronger if some restraint had been exercised - but you cannot help but admire a film as bold, well-photographed and fantastically-performed as this unforgiving, delirious horror.
Whenever the atmosphere is intensifying in the academy - claustrophobic in the way gender dynamics are explored, camera angles tighten and the score fantastically swells - we are suddenly yanked out of the moment by extraneous musings and forced context. Screenwriter David Kajganich piles in the subtext to almost suffocating consequences, ladened with discussions of terrorist hijackings and divided nation in a narrative that never really requires it; it would make more sense if the messages were more tightly compact, but it sprawls, often unfocused and disjointed. Kajganich struggles to keep the subtext in the background, (puzzlingly) magnified in the foreground, but rarely enriching the central narrative.
What's more, trimming that storyline down would almost completely solve the film's major pressing issue: that bloated runtime. Two hours and thirty-two minutes run by, unnecessarily overcomplicating itself. Without meaning to dwell too hard on what doesn't work - because there is a lot to respect - Suspiria's density subtracts from the strong work done elsewhere which, compounded by the Doctor subplot, tests your patience somewhat. I tend to eat up anything that explores lost love - but it did nothing for me in a piece that obviously doesn't demand these contemplations and reflections. There's a far tighter, altogether stronger two-hour-cut of this film (heck, you could probably slash it down to the same length as the original: 98 minutes) in here. I crave that film.
Thom Yorke's soundtrack is utterly entrancing. Undoubtedly one of the year's best, it is a haunting, mesmeric collection that cultivates such a foreboding ambience, utilised unnervingly throughout. More generally, the sound mixing and editing within Suspiria are truly superlative, with the sonic landscape as viscerally-charged and exacting as the images and narrative.
It's also worth crediting the costume and production design on this film; the team behind these elements do a fine job capturing the film's 70s setting, looking every inch the part with the detailed sets and clothing. It is presented so terrifically too, with the 35mm camera footage really enhancing the tone of the piece, with the snap zooms and slow motion playing homage to horrors from the 1970s. Hair and make-up do some mightily skilled work and while character-actor trickery (also known as the worst-kept-secret in 2018) doesn't always pay off, it is a convincing output nonetheless.
That sentiment is echoed throughout the whole of Suspiria. Seemingly throughout this entire process, nobody stopped to consider the necessity of doing something. That's admirable, in a way: it is a beautifully uncompromised vision that operates as it wants to, free from restriction and constraint. But it also testifies that sometimes less is more and - with no one on hand to reign Guadagnino and co in - it becomes sprawling, a needlessly convoluted but beautifully daring experience whose craft and performances elevate the more troublesome elements of the text. They've put it on the screen; but why have they put it on screen, other than to show off?
Suspiria is so pleased with its own importance and absorbed in its own conceit that it never understands when to reign it in. Take that as both the greatest compliment and biggest insult.
★★★★★★★☆☆☆
(7/10)
Summary: For better or for worse, Nu-Suspiria is a beautifully uncompromised and artistic fever vision that could have been altogether stronger if some restraint had been exercised - but you cannot help but admire a film as bold, well-photographed and fantastically-performed as this unforgiving, delirious horror.