Post by No Personality on Mar 1, 2010 10:25:36 GMT -5
Dario Argento may be the most fascinating director in the history of cinema. Why do I say that? Because I can't think of any others. You could say that that's because he's very eccentric. Tim Burton is viewed by the mainstream as equally eccentric. But listen to him talk- he'll put you to sleep. A nice guy for sure, but Argento will long stand (after he's dead) as a more fascinating figure because of his hard-to-pin-down personality and larger than life ambitions than directors the mainstream sees as being off. Including John Waters- though he's damn close! His wild eccentricites finally broke him, as a personality, through to the mainstream around 2007 (he even scored his own A&E series, though I never watched it- an unscripted John Waters is always much better).
What makes Argento so fascinating is that he's a director who sucks everything in culture inside himself and takes his darkest fears, insecurities, and dreams and throws them in his movies. Everything is interesting, artistic, and cinematic to him. He truly hit his creative zenith with 1975's Deep Red and 1977's Suspiria and continued through the next decade to produce startingly original, unique films for others (including George Romero's immortal Dawn of the Dead, Lamberto Bava's fun and schlocky Demons flicks, and Michele Soavi's bad but freakishly weird The Church and Stagefright) and direct amazing films for himself. Most notably 1982's Tenebre, 1984's ill-fated but underrated Phenomena, and 1987's Opera.
It's very hard to put what Argento did into words. He'll never direct as magnificently again as he once did. You have to see it to understand it. And even after you've started to digest his work, you have to rewatch it. And do so again and again. I knew the second I saw the trailer for Phenomena that this guy was a master. You could say he puts more effort into incorporating his images and the music from his composers into bizarre arrangements, than on his stories. However, his stories are equally fascinating when you begin to dissect them. Or try to. Every image suggests something incredible. And half a dozen people at least have written books trying to do that. We'll never understand the why. But damn, just watching the movie and taking the thin story ideas at face value is a rewarding task when you're watching an Argento film.
Argento began his career as the son of a famous movie producer in Italy, Salvatore Argento. In his early 20's (the late 1960's), he decided he wanted to try and direct a film of his own. But only his father felt confident that Dario could do it- Dario faced opposition everywhere he turned while making that key first film, The Bird with the Crystal Plumage. One might think that he was able to finally make the film because of his father. The financers were also so against Dario, they tried to get him taken off the movie all throughout its' shooting. Somehow, the film finished and when part/parts of it were being screened, a secretary from the office was allowed to sit through it. Legend has it that she was so scared and so physically rattled by what she saw, that it made a huge impression with those people who felt he was a failure that it actually shut them up a little.
The film came out and was a monster hit for everyone involved. Dario became a sensation right away. And very shortly after began working on a follow-up. Not a sequel, but a very similar themed detective-thriller. Even down to the title including another animal, 1970's The Cat o' Nine Tails. Though it wasn't quite as successful, it was big enough to get Argento yet another film of the exact same type. This film, 1971's internationally plagued and troubled Four Flies on Grey Velvet. The fact that Argento didn't make another film of this basic Italian giallo style for almost 5 years afterward is one indication that his hotshot reputation was leading to declining quality and success. The fact that it was very hard to match his first film in terms of originality and an interesting story was clearly the reason his films weren't of the same high quality as Bird.
I personally blame the genre itself, a very Italian-oriented formula. Mario Bava is considered the father of it, Alfred Hitchcock dabbled in it as well with historically beloved results, but Argento popularized it. Without him, people in film journalism wouldn't associate animals with the titles of giallo films. And the huge load of rip-offs wouldn't have proliferated either without the huge success of Bird. One of which, Lizard in a Woman's Skin, even gave Argento-copycat Lucio Fulci a name in the Italian film industry- yet another director who ascended beyond this trend to express himself through another genre. With both Argento and Fulci- it was horror, because giallo is mainly a thriller-specific genre. The giallo trend of the 1970's got way out of control and didn't belong to the innovators or creators of it anymore. Argento had to reinvent himself to remain an important director. And God did he ever!
But that's a story for later. Argento's future international mega-success would lead him to a very personally-troubled period in his career. But when it came to his filmmaking, there are a few worrisome points. The first came right after his debut, when he turned out his weakest film in nearly 30 years of directing thrillers and horror films, 1970's The Cat o' Nine Tails. Proving there is such a thing as a sophomore slump. Some of the greatest fall in it. And Argento is no exception. His follow-up to that, 1971's Four Flies on Grey Velvet, was an improvement. But not by all that much. The opening is scattered and the story sets in too slowly, with unlikable characters and only intermittent imagery. Not exactly trademark Argento as Bird with the Crystal Plumage or Deep Red would lead us to expect.
The film centers around a rock musician. A drummer, to be more precise- Roberto. He's paranoid because everywhere he looks- this one man is there, seemingly following him. Why? Who? So, he decides to follow the strange man right back. They have a confrontation, the man draws a knife, and after a struggle, he falls. The knife is covered in blood. Roberto runs. The next day, the newspaper says the man is dead. Murdered. It was an accident! But Roberto doesn't want to confess. He's forced to tell his wife Nina, after she becomes suspicious that something is wrong- he has nightmares, can't sleep in bed, and goes walking around their very large house in the dark. One night, Roberto is attacked. Strangled with a cord while his wife, cat, and live-in housekeeper sleep. A masked intruder warns in a hoarse whisper that he or she can kill Roberto at any time and will return to do so. Nina slips into a state of hysteria after a series of phone calls and creepy letters. She wants them to run away. She leaves, but Roberto refuses to go. He wants to know who is doing this to him and what it will take to stop them. Though perhaps he doesn't realize what it will cost him: a lot. Maybe even his life.
The same thing that kept Cat o' Nine Tails from being a total failure is what makes Four Flies an above average work among the ocean of other giallos. Argento's pacing, otherworldly ability to create awesome tension, his love of tragic beauty, and certain shots that stick out in your mind- days or months after seeing the film. Overall, it's not a far outstanding film. But it's also the perfect finale to his animal trilogy of giallo thrillers. After you see this ending- you'll feel why that is. This film wasn't made to touch a dramatic nerve, but perhaps it's greatest power is that it delivers on the promise that Cat made but flaked on - the tragic end of the little lost girl child - with several legitimate tragic ends. Including the little stolen girl (a scene so poetic in the sheer scope of its' epic horror and beauty, Argento never rivaled it before or since).
This early period isn't the same Argento as the towering height he hit 5 years later, but it does represent what is his most touching era. He used international trends and styles for drama in his horrific mystery-thrillers. Because he identified with characters audiences found cold and superficial. Flies is shockingly sorrowful and sad. And that's a real credit to Argento, since he never did this in another film without an undertow of unnecessary silliness (Opera- though I truly adored that ending) or dramatic tension-destroying luridness (The Stendhal Syndrome). But despite those nitpicks, Argento did so much, he achieved things he never intended. And that's what I call power. He's stronger in some cases than even he knew how to be!
