Spooktober III Review 13: Tenebrae

Tenebrae (1982)
Dario Argento

"Any humiliation which stood in his way could be swept aside by the simple act of annihilation: murder."

The American release title of Dario Argento's Tenebrae is "Unsane," which is a little weird, because that's not what Tenebrae means at all. I learned after watching the film that it means "darkness," and is a pre-Easter thing that Catholics do, and involves extinguishing candles. The anti-Hanukkah, I guess. But the title makes sense, considering how much time Argento spends in the film showing lights, both literal and figurative, being extinguished.

The confusing part of the "Unsane" title is that there's another film that was released this year by Steven Soderberg with that title, and that got me to rent it. Expecting a chopped and screwed version of Argento's giallo film, what you get is an incomprehensible mess about a woman who gets wrongly institutionalized at a facility where her sex pervert stalker works. That's a pretty good premise, but it's handled clumsily, and the whole thing looks like it was shot on an iPhone 4. So don't see Unsane (2018) but do see Unsane (1982)!

Tenebrae is another one of those giallo films we've been discussing on this blog for the past couple of years. This means it was incredibly stylistic, beautifully shot, gruesome, and feels a bit pulpy and rough around the edges, but in the best sort of neo-noir way possible. There's a lot here that you can tell directly impacted the world of pulp cinema around the world. One scene in particular, where a woman's hand is chopped off with an axe, looks right out of Kill Bill, as the character swings her stump around, and sprays a bright red fountain of blood across her apartment. It's bloody, it's disgusting, it's captivating, it's giallo!

After the dour and distressing The Eyes of My Mother, we needed something a little more flashy, so we settled on Tenebrae out of my love for Argento and the prospect of glorious color. This was my first time seeing it, so I was excited to dig in. Naturally, it did not disappoint at all.

What's it about: Ah, what a great premise for a whodunit: an American author, Peter Neal, who writes (evidently) misogynistic murder mystery novels arrives in Rome for an extended press junket. Even before he lands, a woman is murdered, and pages from Neal's newest novel, Tenebrae, are shoved into the corpse's mouth. Soon, bodies are piling up around the city, and the murders are seemingly inspired by Neal's work. With the Italian authorities unable to crack the case, Neal leads his own investigation to find out who is using his work to carry out a violent and pseudo-moralistic crusade against women in Rome.

What's interesting: Tenebrae is a great murder mystery, full stop. If you're a fan of that kind of story, but don't mind a more visceral experience, you should make it a point to see Tenebrae. Along with the twisting, turning, never obvious story, you get a true artist's vision splashed across the screen like a technicolor nightmare. This is simply a great film.

A few minutes in I began to wonder if Argento is colorblind, or at least has some difficulty seeing color vividly. I know that Nicolas Winding Refn has some issue seeing color, which is why his films are so drenched in it. This might be shortchanging Argento's vision, but it would make sense. Details in Tenebrae seem to glow iridescently: a woman's dress here, a telephone there, a spray of blood everywhere. Bright color is an accent to nearly every scene, and the film becomes a dazzling spectacle, elevating the mundane and juxtaposing with the macabre. 

The cinematography here, like in all of Argento's films, is stunning. He uses light, color, and reflection to convey meaning layers deep. There's a distinct Hitchcockian vibe throughout the film, as we routinely look through windows and with reflection at characters who think they're safe in their homes. There's a beautiful and elaborate crane shot where the camera pans along the exterior of a house, up and down, peering in windows, looking for our next victim. The audience is on this voyeuristic journey with the killer, subconsciously cheering it on, taking blissful part in this perverse activity.

This meta thread flows throughout Tenebrae. Even the plot line is a wink and a nod: the novel in the film is called Tenebrae, and is specifically referenced as being in the giallo genre. This is a film that Argento is making about his own experience as an artist. He's not the main character, but he's exploring the idea that someone could get the wrong idea of his work and try to carry out a cruel imitation. A whole scene where a woman confronts Peter Neal about how he treats his female character feels like Argento trying to answer his critics as to why all of the women in his films meet such grizzly and bloody ends.

Is Argento a misogynistic filmmaker or is our world designed to destroy women?  If the latter is the case, who's at fault? Those who take active or ignorant part in it, or the artist who shines a bright light on it?

I don't know if there's a real answer here, but isn't it great that a gruesome murder mystery can ask these sorts of questions?

Other films I thought of: Psycho and Rear Window are obvious choices, mainly because of the element of voyeurism that's so tightly woven into both of them. I'd also say Kill Bill, because of the amazing blood effects.

Miscellany: The soundtrack fucking slaps, my friends. Italian prog rock gods Goblin lay down a theme that might be one of my favorite in film history. Here, take a listen:

I know I'm a sucker for Goblin's music, but this is an objectively amazing piece for a film like this. 

Recommendation: Oh my God 100% yes. It's definitely near the top of the list of the films I've watched so far this year, and I can't wait to make it part of my regular rotation. It's a little gory, which might turn some people off, but maybe just close your eyes when the gross stuff happens.

Remarkably Fuckin Awesome