Loosely inspired by Dario Argento’s 1977 cult classic, Luca Guadagnino’s Suspiria follows the story of Susie Bannion, a young American who travels to Germany to pursue her dream of becoming a dancer in a prestigious company overseen by Madame Blanc (Tilda Swinton). Over the course of the film, it is revealed that hidden under the facade of the world-class dance troupe is a coven of witches serving one of three “mothers,” all-powerful beings that have existed since the beginning of time. The film is worlds apart from Argento’s original thriller, using its intense artful energy presented in the 1977 film towards the exploration of psychological theories by Freud, Jung, and Lacan in this updated version.
This intention, though admirable and providing for some visually striking moments, does not work towards Suspiria’s benefit. In its attempt to illustrate psychoanalytic theorems, the film puts up a daunting wall between itself and its audience. The theories dominate to such an extent that they leave little room for action or a structurally sound narrative. It is difficult to become invested in the characters and actions of the dance hall because they are so abstract. The dialogue is written in such a way as to direct audiences towards the theories the film draws from, but this also makes the dialogue impenetrable for much of the film. The conveyance of these themes is most successful in the cinematography, which, though the symbolism imbued in the camerawork and the techniques of shot framing sometimes feel repetitive and overly-simplified for the messages they intend to convey, look great and are excellent at providing a consistent tone.
An arthouse aesthetic such as this one has worked wonders in other films, and it is done very well in the moments that Suspiria is committed to it. However, the film shoots itself in the foot with its concessions. In addition to the characters of the dance hall, one of Suspiria’s protagonists is Dr. Josef Klemperer, the former psychoanalyst of one of the missing dancers. Klemperer (played by Tilda Swinton, under the alias Lutz Ebersdorf and a few pounds of masculine prosthetics) serves a dual purpose of both providing a literal manifestation of the ideas of the film through his profession as a psychoanalyst and existing entirely outside of them. His presence serves as a neon sign pointing to the ideological goals of Suspiria, but his scenes are intended to provide a break for the audience in the midst of a quagmire of characters that it is difficult to feel anything for. Almost all of his scenes could have been cut entirely without the film losing anything, but they provide a narrative arc that is missing from the primary story. This narrative arc, though it makes the story more accessible on the surface, adds a lot of unnecessary run time to this movie. Every moment that Guadagnino spends fleshing out this character feels like a waste of time, but unfortunately these recesses are oftentimes more interesting to watch than the film’s A-plot.
The environment of the film as a whole feels similar to Dr. Klemperer in this way, but without the rare emotional payoffs. Guadagnino moves this Suspiria from Munich to divided Berlin, but keeps the film’s temporal location the same as the original. As the supernatural story unfolds, the mortal environment surrounding the dance company has its own events. The internal conflicts of divided Berlin manifest themselves in an airplane hijacking and hostage scenario that dominates the news. There are also traces of WWII and Naziism placed throughout the film mainly through the character of Dr. Klemperer, who is a Holocaust survivor. As for personal character backgrounds, Susie is given a new backstory in this Suspiria as a Mennonite (I interpreted this to be an implied state of absolute repression before she can be united with her identity as part of the dance company). These additions feel unnecessary and completely disconnected from the story of Suspiria at large and, when the run time of the movie is already two and a half hours, I stopped being interested in events completely unrelated to the story early on.
Something worth noting is the incredible use of sound in Suspiria. Gudadagno’s sound department made sure that everything on screen could be heard and made the tiniest noises fill the soundscape. The enhancement of Thom Yorke's soundtrack and the sounds in Suspiria drew Dassin’s Rififi to mind in the way Guadagnino uses them to build suspense and fill moments without dialogue with life. This effect was most pronounced in the scenes within Dr. Klemperer’s office (just because there are the most used props in that location), but even in the empty dance rooms you can hear the thud of Susie’s socks hit the floor when she tosses them off to begin a routine.
Performances in Suspiria vary. Tilda Swinton and Angela Winkler give excellent performances consistently and Guadagnino knows how to frame them so that the depths of the emotions they instill in their characters can be read. For other actors in the film (ie. Moretz), however, it seems as if they are having trouble connecting with their character and the film beyond doing things because the director has told them to. But the richness of the performances is seldom why anyone watches a horror movie, anyways.
As for that reason, Suspiria offers some new and creative ways of punishing its characters beyond genre norms. It’s heavily rooted in CGI, but it’s done much more realistically than most modern computer-generated slasher flicks. At the same time, the film feels very out of place today. Every major role is played by a woman, but it is still a horror film written and directed by men that treats the destruction of women’s bodies as art. In interviews, both the writer and director have been adamant that they have tried their best to avoid the male gaze’s interference in their film at all costs. But wouldn’t that just be made simpler by hiring female filmmakers to work behind the scenes? It would probably help the movie stay true to feminist intentions more than having Tilda Swinton play a man does. Regardless of those intentions, as I watched the film I couldn’t help but think that it felt horribly inappropriate that men were helming this story in the middle of the #MeToo era. Many of the more violent scenes felt incredibly exploitative and overly gratuitous (looking back at that bloated run time).
Suspiria’s portrayals of violence and abstract story both have the intention of an overarching intellectual message behind them, but does this excuse the film for its more problematic moments? The violence onscreen is perpetuated by women against women, but behind the camera both victim and abuser are being controlled by male creative figures for artistic intent and the viewing pleasure of a global audience. Watching the film, I did not get the sense of female empowerment that the creative team has so persistently claimed that they did everything in their ability to accomplish. Aside from that, the use of Dr. Klemperer as a Holocaust survivor felt absolutely unnecessary and inserted only for the purpose of wringing some emotion from the audience. The film has absolutely nothing to do with the Holocaust or Nazi treatment of minorities and the use of a genocide as a piece of scenery feels like a slight to those groups impacted by it.
In its technical work Suspiria is beautifully shot and, as I mentioned before, the sound design is often interesting enough to make up for the lag of some scenes. In terms of content, however, the film is lacking much more than a film of its length ought to be. Though I could certainly imagine scenes from Suspiria being worthwhile when viewed individually for the purposes of artistic reference and the realization of a unique aesthetic, Suspiria can be a bit exhausting in a theater.
Rating: 6/10
Noah Harouche is a sophomore in Columbia College.