This distinct retelling of Dario Argento’s horror film is a classic in its own right.
Dario Argento has inspired a generation of filmmakers. His films, notably his mastery of the giallo horror genre, have been burnt into the minds of many. In a prerecorded message to the Fantastic Fest audience, director Luca Guadagnino shared his story about seeing Suspiria for the first time at the age of 14, how it inspired him to become a filmmaker, and his urge to tell his own version of the tale. Inspiration is one thing, remakes are another: all too often they have no reason to exist, do little to add to a film’s legacy, and more egregiously end up taking a sheen off what came before.
Not in this case. The 2018 Suspiria is a masterwork, a film that should be judged on its own merits and not against what came before, a work that undoubtedly will do to a new generation what Argento did to Guadagnino’s.
Dakota Johnson plays Susie Bannion, an untrained but naturally gifted dancer who leaves behind her devout family in rural Ohio to seek training under Madam Blanc (Tilda Swinton), a famous performer she saw at a young age, who is now running the renowned Helena Markos Dance Company in Berlin. Susie impresses in her initial interview, her presence drawing a keen interest from Madam Blanc and the other women running the school. She is granted a position, filling the recently vacated spot of another dancer, Patricia (Chloë Grace Moretz), who had absconded several days earlier — a fact that seems to bother no one save her therapist, one Dr. Klemperer, who begins to investigate her disappearance. He finds that her escalating delusions (that the dance school is in fact concealing a coven of witches) may not be as crazy as he first suspected. As he gets closer to the truth, Susie’s talents grow, and the reasons for her growing bond with the coven becomes horrifyingly clear.
Guadagnino shows a reverence for the original, a lurid affair often referred to as “giallo fantastico,” but his is an altogether different beast. The lurid, pulsating colors are gone, replaced by stark architecture and a dowdy palette, reflective of the new location of 1977 Berlin and an aesthetic that would do Rainer Werner Fassbinder proud. Instead of the emotional madness of Argento, we have restraint and structure, an aspect first alluded to with a title card introducing “six acts and an epilogue set in divided Berlin.” A discordant Goblin score is replaced by an all together more haunting composition, along with original songs by Thom Yorke.
Guadagnino along with screenwriter David Kajganich keep the bones of the original, but the flesh is starker — there is more connective tissue. The motives of this coven and even their existence is more explicit. They must attempt a ritual to save an elder of their order while also contending with an internal power struggle, both critical to the survival of them all. Even simple movements and gestures convey far more about their abilities and intent than anything in the original, as well as how Susie’s burgeoning abilities connect them all.
There are additional backdrops that flesh out the world. First, Klemperer and his investigation, who is also dealing with a ghost from his past (one with a very familiar face). There’s also the era in which the film is set — the turmoil of 1977 Berlin as political uprisings, notably the Red Army Faction pushing back against the government and remnants of Nazism. The shadows of World War II still loom large over the proceedings. These make for a film far more dense than the original, a facet complemented by cinematographer Sayombhu Mukdeeprom who takes starker visuals and imbues them with a wealth of texture, resulting in a ruminative affair dealing with themes of life and death, generational changes, and revolution.
This coven is in decay, Susie being the spark that may rekindle their power and life. But first Blanc must cultivate her talents, extending effort to nurture her like her mother never did, supplanting an upbringing that repressed Susie for so long. She responds by casting it off, embracing the ecstasy of the dance, and everything else that comes with it. As the streets burn with violence of revolutionary acts outside, so do these fires burn within Susie.
With the more subdued aesthetic comes a shift in tone. A scene early in the film connects the medium of dance to the occult in horrific fashion. In doing so, every jump, twist, or twirl comes with a level of menace. While the dance sequences are breathtaking, the choreography is imbued with menace. Dread accordingly infuses the film. Guadagnino toys with unsettling imagery including flashes, visions in nightmares, and snappy camera movements that harken back to the original. It’s all capped off by a final act that delivers a spectacular bloody vibrancy that makes the rest of the film look all the more anemic.
Dakota Johnson is captivating from the start, and even more so as the film unfolds. Her movement and body language is mesmerizing, her arc one of a timid repressed soul that undergoes transformation, as Blanc begins to unlock her talents — a process bordering on the erotic for the pupil. Johnson is given a lot more to deal with than the original, and Susie’s story is fleshed out with a Amish/Mennonite upbringing that clashes with and has parallels to the happenings in Berlin. Guadagnino once again draws on one of his most trusted collaborators in Swinton (I Am Love, A Bigger Splash) who as you’d expect delivers on every conceivable level. In fact the only real quibble with the film is they leave you wanting more, with a final act getting less focus and attention than other aspects of the film, looking to shift the dynamic between teacher and pupil.
Both leads are supported by an admirable cast of female actors, including an excellent Mia Goth. Notably, the only real men in the film are a pair of hapless detectives ridiculed by the coven and Dr. Jozef Klemperer (who is actually portrayed by Swinton herself). It’s another aspect of the film to ruminate upon — a feminist slant that reinforces the ideals of the coven but redirects focus onto women in general, and the importance of the mother. One who provides, one who nurtures, one who deserves respect. Guadagnino again takes what is a novelty in the source material and adding extra layers that enthrall.
It feels a disservice to call Guadagnino’s Suspiria a remake; themes of rebirth and resurrection are explored, providing more apt terms for what unfolds here. He replaces the vivid ecstasy of the original with something far more stark and unnerving, one that dances its way under your skin. There’s an undeniable richness and depth that will require time to unpack and truly appreciate. In its immediacy, it’s a truly striking piece of work. We live in a world where there are now two glorious movies called Suspiria. Thank mother and rejoice in them both.
Suspiria screened at Fantastic Fest 2018 and will be released on October 26th, 2018.
