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Noteworthy for its detached, delusory setting and characterised by express shifts in light and colour, "Suspiria" accurately captures the visceral perception and sensation of a nightmare, which in this context centres on witchcraft. In part inspired by the vivid hand-drawn cut-out animation of "Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs", the film was shot with evocative Eastman colour stock and Technicolor processing to achieve a palpable, entirely unique neon composition. Utilising complex lighting methods, peculiar camera angles, and meticulously designed set-pieces, the majority of "Suspiria" does have the striking effect of an animation in that its chromatic delineation, shot using anamorphic lenses, is a sense-driven, diverting experience that is as much illustrative and stylised as it is psychologically dynamic. Each frame is intricately composed with staggering attention to detail, emphasising a retina-scarring primary colour scheme and facile narrative drive; imbuing the elaborate, harrowing murder sequences with a feverish surrealism, the clear aim is to channel the baroque, bizarre aspects of a fairy-tale. Argento's technical proficiency is integral to the film's opulence and potency, and despite the minimalist plot and wooden performances, the illusive mood and vibrancy of the aesthetic compensates for any observable deficiencies, not that there are any glaring detrimental factors. In all respects, the film's perceptible faults are present in most Italian horror films of the time and are synonymous with the subgenre, perhaps even part of its charm and appeal.
Dario Argento's impenitently superficial masterpiece is at once ambient and phantasmal, glossy and ghastly, hysterical and hazy. Eurohorror reached lofty heights with Argento's excessively stylistic flourishes, derisory storylines deftly structured to anchor the pronounced tableaux, stilted dialogue, and fear-inducing musical scores. "Suspiria" inflates the creative potential of so-called low art of B-movie genre forms by weaving a series of inexplicable, grisly events around the luridly beautiful dreamscape we succumb to most willingly. In a film in which the protagonist's intrigued consciousness intrepidly guides us into a hallucinatory microcosm ripe with suggestion and subtext before capitalising on its over-arching theme of the occult with laser-like focus, extrapolating it into a beguiling showcase of sound and vision that proves more involving than a densely plotted narrative structure. As it is, the story concerns an American dancer who joins a prestigious ballet school in Berlin only to uncover that it is in fact operated by a coven of murderous witches. It is upon this premise that a darkness is built and tension compounded; Argento deepens the tenebrosity and amplifies the blood-soaked terror through the electric colour palette, leaving a mental imprint until it becomes cognisant. Expressing as much blistering artistry as one can out of gore and attributes of psychedelia and mystery, Argento's pulpy supernatural conspiracy is a rich exposition of giallo, albeit with a Gothic slant, delivering an immersive exegesis so powerful that it engulfs the viewer's field of vision, flooding it with detailed symbolism and haunting music courtesy of Goblin. It is this synergy between cinematography, direction and set design that, on the basis of graphic, kaleidoscopic luminosity, creates expressive images with a sheen and sophistication rarely seen in horror cinema, thus expanding the possibilities of the genre. Owing to this fastidious precision and cinematic impulse, "Suspiria" still holds up to scrutiny even after almost half a century, and the end result is no less mesmerising and satisfying. From the rain-soaked, hazy opening scene to the macabre climax, this is cerebral horror cinema at its finest.
