It took me a while to realize I was watching a bad film. Sure there were clues, I mean, right out of the gate Chloë Grace Moretz forces here way into her shrink’s office and proceeds to treat her session as a toddler treats a bouncy house. And then there was the screenplay which vowed to be more comprehensive than its progenitor, but managed not to include a single moment of exposition in 152 confusing minutes. Then there’s the film itself, which seems to have been shot in a Siberian gulag for all the bright it contained. Yet while those facets merely addle the brain and can perhaps confuse one into believing they are watching a strangled masterpiece, then came the epitome of empty, the quintessence of pretension, the coup de grâce of coup de blah: the focal dance troupe comes out for the big number that will describe the perils of western civilization in the 20th century and the outfits for the women consist entirely of panties and red yarn.
Begging the question: what is the dress code for a Satanic ritual? Suspiria spent two-and-a-half-hours selling the evil of modern dance. Geez, fellas, did you really need two-and-a-half hours? One clip of “Dancing with the Stars” should get you there in no time.
The setting is Germany in 1977. That much I got. I’m going to assume it’s West Germany because an American dancer named Susie (Dakota Johnson) has managed to latch onto the Markos Dance Academy and Secret Coven. While proving her worth, Susie rehearses the lead role in their upcoming recital while from two studios away, troupe black sheep Olga seems to be reacting to Susie’s violent solo movements as if she is being punched, kicked, and pirouetted by Susie directly. This phantom ass-kicking is the least confusing scene in the film.
I’m not sure what the deal is with the Markos, but this was the oldest dance company I’ve ever seen. Maybe it was the lighting, but Olga (Elena Fokina) looked every bit as wizened as the company’s demanding pretensionist, Madame Blanc (Tilda Swinton).
It’s possible I just don’t get art. It seems a sad thing that I’ve written over 1,700 blog reviews and still don’t understand the first thing about artistic expression, but are you sure your dance is trying to make a statement of some kind? The women rehearse a specific dance every day, The Volk. The Volk requires a dozen women spread out on a dance floor to make (what appears to me to be) random punctuated karate-like movements in rhythm with the meter of “music to faceplant to.” The dance is supposed to be an expression of Cold War angst which works in the exact same way that brushing my teeth is an homage to blues legend BB King.
Eventually, there’s blood, because nobody wants to pick up what’s left of Olga by hand. I really don’t get you people. You know somebody’s gonna have to mop that up, right? I would simply loooove to know what the extra hour was supposed to add to this film, because there was at least 100 minutes of uselessness in this ritual.
Some films are really good at hiding how bad they are with confusion. They figure if the audience doesn’t understand what’s going on they won’t realize that’s true for the writer and director as well. Those films have a new God to worship. There is almost no time during Suspiria in which the film either makes sense or even wants to. Then the climax happens in which the “WTF?” cranks to 11. I’m giving this more than zero because Luca Guadagnino clearly had a vision for this film. This is what happens when an indulged director gets, unfortunately, exactly what he wants. When Americans find foreign film unrelatable and confusing, this is precisely the kind of film they’re thinking of. Suspiria is why Hollywood exists and thrives – the films may be schlock and paint-by-numbers, but at least they’re audience-friendly.
Describing history through interpretive dance
Can seem confusing within a mere glance
Do a kick-reverse-step
When you meant ball-change-rep
Instead of Hitler, you get Antoinette’s France
Rated R, 152 Minutes
Director: Luca Guadagnino
Writer: David Kajganich
Genre: How to make nudity unappealing
Type of being most likely to enjoy this film: Critics who can’t admit they’re watching a bad film
Type of being least likely to enjoy this film: Literally anybody
