Tenebre (1982)

Dario Argento

Italy

101 min, color, English

Review © 2006 Branislav L. Slantchev

Let's start off by clearing a confusion regarding the title of the film. Tenebre is the proper spelling of the title as it appears on the Italian print and means 'darknesses' in that language. The alternative spelling Tenebrae comes from the title of the book written by the main character and seems to be a Latinized version of the same. This is the one that appears on English language prints although I do not know if that is really a proper word. The interesting point to note that the title does not mean 'darkness' in the singular, as usually reported, but is in the plural. This, as we shall find out, is entirely appropriate.

Promo for Book Lovers Club	Citizen unhappy with garbage collection

Before I continue, I have to give a spoiler warning because I cannot very well discuss the film without revealing the identity of the murderer. So if you have not seen the film, stop reading now and come back to the review after watching it. I am not actually sure that knowing who's done what is going to do much to change one's opinion of the film or its enjoyment even if this is ostensibly a whodunit. This particular giallo is much more of a commentary about how society is supposed to relate to artists of Argento's mold and what the appropriate definition of 'deviance' must be. As such, one can appreciate the film long after its mystery attraction has worn off.

Literature abuse scandal	Me? Sexist? I adore women. You could say I'm a lesbian!

The plot is deceptively simple. Unlike most gialli that revel in tracking the doings of some unseen murderer (which this one does as well), the story is far more complex than a study of a hunt for a criminal. For one, we are not dealing with just one criminal. Another point worth making is that the two killers are connected in an unorthodox way. Whereas the first can claim "the book made me do it" defense (or, equally likely not to work, the "Catholic Church made me do it"), the other can go with the time-honored liberal-sanctioned "early adulthood trauma" of the inevitable sexual variety. To cloud the moral issue a bit, one of the perps kills the other, and it just so happens that the book that triggers the bloody rampage is written by that second psycho.

Feminist agenda for 2pm: kill all men	Anne and Peter Neal at the hotel

To help matters a bit, I will condense the narrative of the basic plotline to a semi-chronological account rather than follow the film's intricate juxtaposition of the killer's POV with the concurrent investigation, and the occasional flashbacks who reveal the traumatic experience of what we at first think is the original killer but later find out is not. Peter Neal (Anthony Franciosa) is a best-selling author of violent thrillers who arrive in Rome to promote his latest book, Tenebrae, which seems to glorify liberation from one's inner demons by violently removing obstacles to one's vision of what society must be. Whether he intends the book to be read that way or not is another matter, however.

Nothing hurts like rejection from group sex	Hey, this is not what I meant when I said I had a shoe fetish

Two people "misread" his book, at least according to him. One of them is a long-time friend of his (actually, the daughter of a friend), a lesbian feminist reporter who attacks him for the misogyny in his work. Some have read into this Argento's personal statement about this sort of an attack, to which he has frequently been subjected as well. That Argento seems to kill a lot of women in his films is beyond question. Whether this has anything to do with hatred of women, however, is quite disputable. I have argued that depicting violence against women is not some sort of perverse male gratification but is rooted in aesthetic concerns (destroying beauty is painful and the female form is quite beautiful in a specific delicate way that male beauty is not) and comes from societal norms that tend to regard female victimization as a cause of embarrassment and prima facie evidence of societal failure that elicits empathy in a way that male victimization does not (because inability to defend oneself is attributed to personal weakness and worthy of scorn).

They don't make them as they used to	Naked + bisexual = Catholic wrath

Whatever the reason behind Argento's focus on the female form as the subject of violence, Tenebre does not offer an answer or a defense no matter what some reviewers claim. The interview in question is interesting because it shows a rather amicable off-the-record relationship between the writer and the reporter. One can discern a thinly veiled distaste for politicized criticism that sacrifices intimate knowledge of the subject for high-minded rhetorical flourish. Peter is flabbergasted that Tilde (Mirella D'Angelo) can seemingly twist the contents of his book and depict him as a male chauvinist who glorifies violence against women when she knows perfectly well that he is not that sort of a person. The famously mild-mannered Argento (who even claims to abhor violence against animals) can easily be read in that reaction. But the defense that "I do not hate women" just does not fly if one writes as if one hates them. Whereas one can offer a pretty cogent reason for the type of violence in these films, the line of defense taken by the writer in this film simply does not cut it. If that's the extent to which Argento can go to explain his art, then detractors really can have a field day with it.

Mirella D'Angelo	He is totally staring at the pipes

The other point makes it even worse, for Tilde is actually correct in her basic assessment. Peter Neal does have problems with women and they come from a rather unfortunate experience he had as an adolescent. In a series of flashbacks, a nameless woman wearing a white gown and red shoes flirts with four faceless young men on a beach. She bares her breasts, kneels on the sand, and starts rubbing herself against the legs and crotches of three of them when the fourth (Peter) comes along. She takes a look at him and then rejects him as unfit for participation in the orgy with the gesture the Roman public expressed its contempt for a defeated gladiator. In response, he slaps her across the face and runs off only to be overtaken by the other three men who hold him down until the woman comes to exact her humiliating revenge. She spits on him, kicks him repeatedly between the legs, and finally steps on his face, forcing her high heel into his mouth. One could say that Peter would have a somewhat ambivalent relationship with women from then on, and one could further guess that he might not take to rejection very well.

A weird interview	John Saxon in search of a less embarrassing hat

Little wonder, then, that Peter goes ballistic when he discovers that his fiancee Jane (Veronica Lario) is having an affair with his agent Bullmer (John Saxon). When he uncovers the identity of the original murderer and dispatches him by splitting his head with an axe, Viking-style, he decides to murder the unfaithful woman, to whom he even mails a pair of red high-heel shoes which he so pointedly associates with rejection and humiliation. As any self-respecting psychopath, he does not limit himself with a crime of passion but then painstakingly attempts to cover his tracks by rubbing out any potential witnesses. So much for the defense that he has been misunderstood and that he does not actually hate women. Despite professing to care about Anne (Daria Nicolodi), whom, by the way, he sleeps with even though he is ostensibly in a relationship with Jane, he quickly attempts to take the axe to her as well when she becomes a threat.

Obligatory descent into a basement	Advil helps even with splitting head-aches

The other psycho is not nearly that interesting and serves more as a ploy to depict the insanity of Peter rather than make a deep statement about deviance. Berti (John Steiner) is an over-zealous TV host who is troubled by the society's slide into accepting what he considers deviant behavior. As a supposedly devout Catholic, he is repulsed by thieves, lesbians, prostitutes (among others), and he also tends to blame the purveyors of filth who not only depict these abhorrent things but seem to encourage them as well. In other words, he's not too fond of Peter either. When he learns that Peter is going to visit Rome, Berti decides to teach him, and everyone else, a lesson in propriety. He first kills a girl who has stolen the very book he so lovingly incinerated during the opening credits. She's not only a shop-lifter but she manages to get off the hook by promising the store manager some late-night fun. Berti then targets two lesbians---one of whom is Tilde and the other is her bi-sexual promiscuous lover Marion (Mirella Banti). He taunts Peter with clues but when he is forced to kill Maria (Lara Wendel), a girl who accidentally discovers his photographs of the victims while hiding from a vicious dog, he trips Peter's analytical mind and reveals his location. Hence, by the way, the plural of 'darkness' in the title.

Veronica Lario in an ambuscade	Avant-garde art

Whatever one thinks of violence in cinema, Tenebre is the prime example of a film that can turn it into high art, however repulsive this may seem. The trademarked prowling camera invades the victims' physical spaces and then they are killed off in spectacular ways. The two most memorable scenes involve the murders of Tilde and Jane. The first is caught putting on her night shirt. The killer rips a hole in it just as she is putting it over her head, her face is frozen as she stares at him in horror through the opening, and then a splash of blood indicates her death. Jane's famous death scene is frequently censored for its extremism. She sits by a window holding a gun. The killer smashes through the glass with an axe and hacks off her right arm at the elbow. A geyser of blood erupts as Jane jumps up screaming and turns toward the wall. As she slides to the right, she literally paints on the white wall with her blood in a way that is reminiscent of too many paintings. It is horrifying, it is painful, and it is made even more grotesque by the fact that Argento has plainly intended this scene to look beautiful. Not something one can easily forget.

That's what they call a "big oops"	They changed the end credits pop song!

The film looks quite bleak and desaturated. Coming after the lush primary color look of Suspiria, this is quite a change. But since the cinematographer is the same on both (Luciano Tovoli), this must have been intentional. The mood created by this lighting fits the gritty urban setting perfectly, and even though the visuals are not as striking as they are in Argento's supernatural thrillers, they are nevertheless starkly beautiful, not the least because of their formal composition. The Anchor Bay DVD preserves the look nicely and presents the video in a 1.85:1 widescreen aspect ratio. Unfortunately, it has not been anamorphically enhanced, and so a definitive release is still something fans must await. The studio presents the 101 minute "director's cut" and even though this is better than the butchered 90-odd minute old release as Unsane, it is not the full-length version reportedly circulating in Europe. The film comes with a Dolby Digital 5.1 English dub in addition to the mono Italian but since there are no subtitles, I did not bother with the latter. Extras include an audio commentary, trailers, and some talent files.

January 1, 2006