Five of the Best: Dario Argento Films

Dario Argento has been terrorising, entertaining and surprising audiences for almost 50 years and, though his best years are far behind him, his legacy is one that any horror director would be more than proud of. His early work in particular is astounding in its consistency, how many filmmakers can boast a debut as assured as ‘The Bird with the Crystal Plumage’? Few can argue that his finest work lies between that astounding opening statement to the world of cinema and ‘The Stendhal Syndrome’ which, to me, is his last truly memorable film (although ‘Sleepless’ had its moments, particularly the superb opening set piece). We all have our favourites so I’ll share my ‘Five of the Best’ Dario Argento films, in no particular order…

Suspiria (1977)

I doubt there’s an Argento fan amongst us who wouldn’t include this in their top five! Dripping with style and oozing colour from every frame it resembles a waking nightmare at times. Entire scenes are inexplicably bathed in primary colours as characters are engulfed, surrounded and saturated by the nightmares those colours betray. Like an adult fairy tale, characters and creatures are consumed by the Mother of Sighs’ will to do her bidding and even the geography of buildings appear altered, most notably in the opening scene where our eventual victim, Pat, is chased along walls and into crawlspaces that they couldn’t possibly access.

Argento wrote the film with the main characters as children, changing them to adults to avoid censorship but retaining the same innocence and clumsy dialogue of the characters. This does much to add to the fairytale analogy, in fact the story was inspired by an old folk tale Daria Nicolodi’s Grandmother used to tell her as a child. The almost complete lack of plot isn’t to everyone’s taste and marked a shift in Argento’s work away from more conventional storytelling to the supernatural.

Most ‘Argento’ moment? The scene where Sara is chased through the dance academy by a razor wielding assailant. She thinks she has found salvation through a small, window sized door yet, despite looking, jumps straight into a room, bathed in the glow of electric blue lighting and filled with barbed wire coils. As she struggles to escape the room, our killer toys with her by agonising over opening the lock, lifting it slowly and deliberately with the razor. We’re then confronted by that most nightmarish of concepts…being chased but unable to escape. Unbearable tension and the dreamlike absence of cause and effect combine to create one of Argento’s most memorable set pieces.

Opera (1987)

One of Argento’s most commercially successful films, it also provided us with one of his most iconic singular images…needles taped under the eyes to force our heroine to watch the bloody mayhem. Argento invented this device after becoming frustrated that audiences would close or cover their eyes during his carefully staged set pieces. By forcing Betty to watch the bloodshed, we feel compelled to do the same…Argento is punishing the one we identify with, therefore punishing us for not paying attention.

The film itself has a number of flaws but Argento outdoes himself with the stylised nature of his camerawork and the sheer audacity of what he throws at us. He built a giant rig to simulate the flight of the ravens, he cuts open a stagehand’s throat post mortem because she accidentally swallows a vital clue, there are flashbacks and the visualised ramblings of an insane madman, even going so far as to show his own pulsating brain. It’s almost as if he set out purposely to outdo himself in every respect and for most part he succeeds in what could well be the most insane and ballsy giallo ever to come out of Italy.

Most 'Argento' moment? Daria Nicolodi’s Mira questions the identity of a policeman at the door as she stares him down through the peephole. The ‘cop’ pulls out a gun and pulls the trigger as we follow the bullet in slow motion down the chamber through the glass of the peephole, through Mira’s eye, out the back of her head and into the telephone at the back of the room. Only Argento can make something as barbaric and formulaic look as breathtakingly beautiful and original as this. A remarkable moment.

Deep Red (1975)

This was the film that cemented Argento’s growing reputation as a genuine talent and reportedly gained the attention of Alfred Hitchcock who remarked ‘This Italian fellow is starting to worry me’! Scripted by Argento from his original story, this is proof that Argento wasn’t all style over substance, coming up with a very coherent and well written giallo. With a twist that doesn’t cheat (just watch the opening murder again), it’s Argento’s most satisfying film, purely from a story perspective. It’s also the first time we see him play with the supernatural by introducing us to the psychic Helga, a theme he would revisit with a larger slice of horror in ‘Phenomena’.

Though we had seen flashes of style and directorial flourishes before, ‘Deep Red’ was where we witnessed Argento come of age as a director of considerable visual talent. Right from the opening flashback, the whipping open of the curtains to reveal the psychic demonstration and the Goblin scored, dreamlike moment where the camera pours over items representing our killer’s madness we know we’re in for a different type of giallo. Subtle foreshadowing and doubling, intricate character development, uncovered images that blur the distinction between Marc Daly’s current reality and our killer’s past trauma add up to a surprisingly complex and well thought out film.

Most 'Argento' moment? There can be only one! As psychiatrist Giordani begins to piece together the puzzle he hears a sound from the corner of his room. Thinking nothing more of it, a door flies open and a creepy mechanical doll bursts out, walking towards him laughing. Stabbing the doll, Giordani realises too late that it’s a warning as the killer delivers a blow to his head, smashes his teeth into the fireplace, than again onto the corner of a table before laying him down and impaling him onto the table as the camera follows the blade up and then down into his neck.

The Bird With the Crystal Plumage (1970)

This was where it all started with a loose adaptation of Fredric Brown’s pulp 40s novel ‘The Screaming Mimi. An incredibly assured debut, the film was both an international hit and responsible for re-igniting popularity for the Italian Giallo, a style of thriller with a whodunit element, elaborate, stylistic set piece murders and demented plot twists. It introduced us to a number of Argento’s signature moves, including the black gloved killer, protagonist associated with the arts, witness as stalked victim and an eye for the unusual character.

What Argento achieves is an almost constant level of tension, the plot moving along at a breathless pace with plenty of twists and turns. Through reputation we also find Argento’s frustration with actors, regarding them more as part of the scenery than people with lines to say. That said, Argento displays a real talent as a screenwriter, something that frequently gets overlooked over his directorial flourishes and eye for the fantastic. This is a film that both looks AND sounds good as well as being one if his most coherent movies in terms of plot and character development.

Most 'Argento' Moment? Without a doubt the scene where Sam’s girlfriend, Julia, is stalked and terrorised in her apartment. The killer threatens and goads her through the locked door, trying to gain entry as she tries desperately to escape, all the while knowing that Sam can’t be far away but will he get there in time. It’s a scene he repeats in other films, including to Marc Daly in ‘Deep Red’, Betty in ‘Opera’, Sara in ‘Suspiria’ and Anna in ‘The Stendhal Syndrome’.

Tenebrae (1982)

Reinventing the Giallo for the second time, this time creating the neo-giallo, Argento disregards the primary colours of ‘Suspiria’ and ‘Inferno’ for a more washed out, traditional look. He also removes any and all references to the supernatural, effectively going back to basics to relay the story of a murder mystery writer, Peter Neal who finds himself right in the middle of a situation that he could well have written himself. The idea came from a very real experience he suffered with an obsessive fan that took a sinister turn when he began to blame Argento for his own life problems.

Another technically and stylistically brilliant film which introduces us, admittedly not for the first time in Italian horror history, to the notion of the dual killer. Doubling and rhyming scenes play significant roles, particularly in the climax where a potential victim is crucially misidentified and an incredible shot where the Inspector kneels down to reveal the killer standing directly behind him. Taught pacing, some wonderfully ‘of the time’ disco music from Goblin and further proof of Argento’s eye for the set piece, he gave us another landmark Giallo.

Most 'Argento' moment? The infamous crane shot where Argento’s fluid camera thoroughly explores the outside of a building for nearly two minutes to the backdrop of Goblin’s pounding score. The camera then enters the building as the soundtrack is discovered to be a record being played by one of the women who lives there. She then struggles with her clothes before the razor wielding maniac perfectly frames her face through a tear in her t-shirt, blood spurting onto her terrified face - another victim claimed.