
Director: Dario Argento
Starring: Jessica Harper, Joan Bennett, Udo Kier, Stefania Casini, Flavio Bucci, Miguel Bose, Barbara Magnolfi, Susanna Javicoli, Eva Axen, Rudolf Schundler, Alida Valli, Margherita Horowitz, Jacopo Mariani, Fulvio Mingozzi, Franca Scagnetti
Cert: 18
Region: B
Length: 98mins
Video: AVC, 1080p, 2.35:1
Audio: DTS-HD 5.1 MA
Languages: English
Subtitles: None
Number of Discs: 1
Labelled a video nasty here in the 80's and only recently made available in America in its full uncut form thanks to Anchor Bay, Dario Argento's primary-colour-bathed slasher masterpiece is the perfect film to experience in glorious high definition. Part fairy-tale, part waking nightmare about a young dancer attending a private school only to find it run by witches, Suspiria's influence is still being felt today (what were The Woods and I Know Who Killed Me if not thinly-veiled homages?). An official remake has been on the cards for half a decade now, with the latest rumblings suggesting Natalie Portman to produce/star and David Gordon Green to direct but Suspiria's signature 70's style is one tough act to follow.

If you can get past the intense first 12 minutes as American ballet student Suzy Bannion (Jessica Harper) arrives in rainy Munich to a banshee soundtrack by Goblin, chances are you'll make it through the rest of the film. If you do, it proves decidedly low on plot (Suzy dances a bit before falling ill and stumbling around dark corridors during thunder storms) but high on gory, elaborate death sequences. Any girls who question the odd goings on at the school run by Madame Blanc (Joan Bennett in her final role) find themselves pushed through plate-glass windows, garrotted or tossed into a room full of barbed wire (which we can clearly see have no barbs). Considering this level of violence it's no wonder Argento's original plan to cast children was swiftly refused by the film's producer/Dario's father, Claudio Argento. Dario duly upped the age limit and cast Jessica Harper but kept the child-like dialogue to add another level of weirdness to proceedings (also, note the door handles set at shoulder height to make the actors seem smaller).
Like David Lynch, Argento is more interested in mood than narrative. During the day the ballet school seems like an idealised fairy-tale castle full of bright wallpaper yet at night these primary colours take on an unnerving, hyper-surreal quality. Throw in a nails-on-a-chalkboard soundtrack and some drawn out scenes in which an unseen enemy stalks young women in their bedrooms and you've got yourself a pretty good nightmare. The fact that all the actor's voices were dubbed over in post-production (Udo Kier's being the most obvious) also adds to the audience's sense of unease, even during the slightly more sedate daytime scenes. Whether Jessica Harper's acting is intentionally bad or not is kind of irrelevant since her innocence is ultimately the key to vanquishing the evil from the school. In fairy-tales children often succeed by acting on unbiased instinct whereas an adult would try and figure things out rationally and thus die. (If Suzy was too smart then we wouldn't fear for her safety and her success in defeating the head witch would be too easily won).
Many subtexts have been read in to Suspiria over the years, some positive (facing up to one's fears) and some not so positive (Argento has long been criticised for making misogynistic movies where women suffer horrific deaths) but ultimately it's just a really, really good slasher film. To delve too deep into the Freudian aspects would be to miss the raw sensory experience Argento intended. If Suspiria was made today it would be dismissed as badly acted nonsense (take note David Gordon Green) but because it was made in the 70's and was the final film to use the old 3-strip Technicolour process to create its striking colour palette, Suspiria is as much art as it is entertainment. It wasn't the first slasher film but it's certainly one of the best, hence its enduring cult appeal. What does it all mean? Who cares; check out the freaky wallpaper, man!
Film: 80%