The idea of horror anthologies based on Edgar Allan Poe stories had already been around for decades by the time Dario Argento decided to embark on an ambitious project in which noted directors would each tackle one of the Baltimore scribe’s most famous stories. After John Carpenter and Wes Craven proved unavailable for a proposed quartet of tales, Argento teamed up with George Romero for two hour long adaptations. Originally interested in “The Masque of the Red Death,” Romero changed gears for the more reasonably scaled “The Facts in the Case of M. Valdemar,” filmed before in Roger Corman’s Tales of Terror. Reuniting with Romero after her iconic uber-shrew in Creepshow, Adrienne Barbeau plays another scheming wife, this time married to the much older, much richer, and very comatose Ernest Valdemar. He’s being treated by Dr. Hoffman (Ramy Zada), who happens to be Jessica’s lover and is using hypnosis to prolong his patient’s life. However, together they come up with a plan to induce his premature death without being caught, though of course the scheme winds up failing with quite horrific consequences.
Argento then takes the reins for hour two with a loose adaptation of “The Black Cat” (filmed even more loosely in the aforementioned Corman film, not to mention Luigi Cozzi's wackazoid sci-fi version), with bad-tempered crime photographer Rod Usher (Harvey Keitel) not taking too kindly to the arrival of a new cat in his home. His girlfriend, Annabel (Madeleine Potter), decides to keep the feline, which Rod secretly kills for a series of snuff kitty photos in his next book. However, the cat soon returns again… or does it?
The Romero segment has often been criticized as sluggish and half-hearted, and with good reason; even at an hour it moves along like a legless turtle and only pays off with a brief, zombified ending that plays more like an episode of his earlier TV show, Tales from the Darkside. The actors try their best but an air of lethargy hangs over the proceedings, making it a sad misfire. Fortunately Argento’s segment redeems the film, packing in references to a jaw-dropping number of Poe works (“Berenice,” “Annabel Lee,” “The Fall of the House of Usher,” and “The Pit and the Pendulum,” among many others) while integrating several bravura set pieces, violent and otherwise. Fresh off his hyperactive camera experimentation in Opera, Argento continues his sweeping POV shots here; the camera swoops around apartment buildings, takes on a cat’s perspective, and swings on a pendulum through a bisected corpse; in short, it’s one of his most compact, entertaining, and tightly plotted works. The Pino Donaggio score also perks to life here, from the haunting main “Dreaming Dreams” theme to some rousing suspense cues. Interestingly, the more subdued and American-shot "The Black Cat" also unofficially marks the highly controversial swerve in Argento's career from super-saturated gialli towards more psychologically dense and visually austere works which continued well through Trauma and The Stendhal Syndrome to, surprisingly enough, The Mother of Tears.
Several DVDs of Two Evil Eyes have circulated through different countries, most containing the standard two hour cut which played theatrically and was released on laserdisc by Media. All are letterboxed but only the US and UK discs offer anamorphic transfers; not surprisingly for a film of its vintage, the appearance is stellar with beautiful depth and detail. The UK disc has a solid 5.1 mix from the original Dolby Stereo stems, while the US double-disc set goes one better with six channel DTS-ES and 5.1 EX mixes to boot. The difference isn’t that radical as the film doesn’t have a terribly aggressive mix, but audiophiles will want to take note. More significantly, the US disc contains a few extra frames during the pendulum sequence, lingering longer on the split torso. It doesn’t add up to much more than an eyeblink's worth, but technically the extra footage is there. However, the US disc is mysteriously missing a line of dialogue at the end of the film, in which the gagging police officer reels back from the opened wall and, beginning to wretch, gasps out, “They’re eating her!” (You’ll have to see the film to understand what that means.) On the Blue Underground disc, the cop simply turns away and a quick “—er!” is heard on the soundtrack, in each audio mix. Disc one contains the main feature along with an international theatrical trailer (not present on the other discs); apparently the US trailer has disappeared for good, though it’s not much of a loss.
Also included are the usual well-written talent bios and a poster and still gallery, which contains two shots from the “Murders in the Rue Morgue” sequence which was written and filmed for the Argento segment but ultimately excised. In this scene, Usher arrives to take photos at a crime scene where two sisters lie on the floor of their home with their necks slashed open. Upon further inspection he discovers animal feces in the fireplace, indicating the culprit was actually a gorilla. While many sources claim this bit was never actually shot, this DVD proves otherwise (though none of the supplements address its existence). In the limited two-disc edition, disc two kicks off with “Two Masters’ Eyes,” a 32-minute featurette including interviews with Romero, Argento, FX supervisor Tom Savini (who seemed to have a lot of fun on this film), executive producer Claudio Argento, and the omnipresent Asia Argento. Most interesting is the inclusion of behind the scenes highlights from footage shot during filming by Robert Marcucci, including some amusing footage of Argento in sports-playing mode. Then Savini steps into the spotlight for the 12 minute “Savini’s EFX,” showing him at work on the pendulum corpse and those memorable kittens. “At Home with Tom Savini” covers many of the props he’s kept over the years from his films, a veritable checklist of major gore groundbreakers since the late ‘70s. Last up are a Barbeau interview segment jettisoned from the original cut of Roy Frumkes’ Document of the Dead (though she is visible in his later revised video cut), along with an Easter egg containing brief comments from Christine Forrest/Romero about her small role as a nurse.
Most if not all of the extras are carried over for Blue Underground's Blu-Ray release, which marks their third trip to the Argento well. Obviously the film isn't a visual dazzler on the level of their Bird with the Crystal Plumage, but the presentation here is quite admiarble and film-like with the edge enhancement which was somewhat visible in their DVD edition subdued into oblivion here. Daylight scenes are very crisp and clean-looking, and while Romero's segment has almost no outstanding visual style to speak of, even the darker scenes in Argento's fare well (note the blood-red lighting in Keitel's darkroom, which is far easier to watch here). The uncompressed audio presented in both Dolby Digital and DTS variants (specifically, Dolby TrueHD 7.1, DTS-HD 7.1 Master Audio, and Dolby Digital 5.1-EX Surround, with optional English, French and Spanish subs) is still restrained for the most part, but the occasional cat yowls and shrieking violin strings certainly sound nice when they do pop up in the ancillary speakers. (The "eating her" line is still absent on all the tracks, by the way, which really makes one wonder at what point in post-production it was added in.) All of the extras are carried over except the still gallery (a shame in this case, for obvious reasons) and talent bios; presumably the Easter Egg is absent, too, but it'll take a far more savvy Blu-Ray hunter than I to verify that for sure. Flaws in the film aside, fans of either director (or both) will find plenty to enjoy savor here as this oft-debated film is put into its proper context, and any self-respecting Argento fan should find the Blu-Ray an essential purchase.
Apart from Mario Bava, no one had managed to create such an ingenious combination of visual style, devilish plotting, and a gripping soundtrack; indeed, this is not only perhaps Argento's greatest film, but one of the highlights of Italian cinema as a whole.At a parapsychology conference in Rome, German psychic Helga Ullman (Macha Meril) finds her public demonstration disrupted when she senses the presence of a psychotic killer in the audience. "You have killed, and you will kill again," she proclaims, pointing out into the audience. Soon after, she is brutally killed in her apartment, an act witnessed from afar by a British pianist, Marcus Daly (Blow Up's David Hemmings). Spunky reporter Gianna Brezzi (Daria Nicolodi) realizes Marc's value as an eyewitness but cannot protect him as the killer continues cutting a bloody path right to Marc's door. Through some amateur detective work, our neurotic hero deduces the killings may be related to an abandoned, supposedly haunted old house on the outskirts of town.
Deep Red is one of those few, fortunate creations in which every element seems to fall perfectly into place. Argento at the height of his powers is enough of an asset, but the film also has engaging, first-rate performances from Hemmings and Nicolodi, a groundbreaking and often imitated rock score by Goblin with some more traditional contributions by Giorgio Gaslini (go buy the CD!), brilliant mobile camerawork by Luigi Kuveiller, and enough shocks to keep the most jaded horror fan on the edge of his seat. Many of the film's gory set pieces have been copied over the years, with John Carpenter starting the trend with Halloween 
(the sofa/knitting needle scene) and Halloween II (the scalding bathtub murder).
Trying to assemble a "complete" official version of Deep Red has been a daunting task over the years. Most English-speaking viewers first saw a drastically cut 98 minute version, sometimes under the title The Hatchet Murders. This edition turned up horribly panned and scanned on VHS from HBO, but soon after a letterboxed Japanese laserdisc turned up under the title Suspiria 2 (though this film was made first!). This export cut, running 105 minutes, contained several extra gory shots and a comic relief sequence with Hemmings and Nicolodi riding in the latter's junky car. Italian VHS fans who ponied up money for their Domovideo release found an uncut, two hour version without subtitles; this edition contains no extra gore or plot information, but a great deal of extra local color and comic/romantic interplay as well as the evocative original intermission break.
Anchor Bay's DVD assembles all of the extant English language footage (and yes, the film does work much better in English) with the extra Italian scenes for the closest thing to a complete Deep Red we will probably ever see. The image quality here is an enormous improvement over all other existing versions, with a number of previously obscured details now perfectly visible. For example, the viewer can now see four separate, significant images of fluid seeping from character's mouths during violent moments, one of the many subtle recurring motifs throughout the film. A major clue early on in the film is also much easier to see, as is the revelation concerning that creepy fresco. While the film's closing credits were prepared both in Italian and English ("You have been watching Deep Red!"), the DVD includes a newly created variant with the English credits rolling over a still shot of Hemmings' face. It's a minor but bizarre alteration that immediately irritated purists and has remained a sticking point for years now. As for audio, the mono soundtrack has been remixed to 5.1, with admirable results. The music carries most of the load for the exterior sequences, with only a few sound effects making 
their way to the rear channels. A few sequences which would seem to call out for the 5.1 treatment, such as the gruesome garbage truck scene, remain almost entirely dead center. The Italian dialogue is presented with subtitles during the additional scenes for the English soundtrack, while the Italian-only version may be played with subtitles throughout. The disc includes two theatrical trailers: one for the U.S. (a longer version of the one included on Mad Ron's Prevues from Hell) and the original Italian (which includes some intriguing still photos). Argento appears for an intriguing interview segment in which he's joined by Goblin band members and co-writer Bernardo Zapponi. However, the biggest drawback to the Anchor Bay version is the liner notes, easily the most inept in recent memory. The subsequent reissue from Blue Underground ports over the exact same transfer and contents but thankfully without the liners.
Various other versions appeared in Europe throughout the years, including a slightly trimmed UK edition (which drops the lizard on a pin shot due to UK video regulations), an Australian release culled from the same transfers, and a Spanish release of the 105-minute cut inexplicably cropped to 1.78:1. Fans of the shorter cut (including this writer, who feels it's a much better way to experience the film for first-time viewers) finally got their prayers answered with AWE's very welcome two-disc release, which ditches the US featurette but is in every other way an improvement. Disc one contains the long Italian cut with English, Dutch, and Finnish subtitles, with audio in 5.1 or 2.0 stereo. This version reinstates the original opening and closing credits (huzzah!) and, while obviously taken from the same source material, looks significantly cleaner and more colorful. On the other hand, viewers watching it in progressive mode will notice some jerky motion problems from time to time (unfortunately most obvious during those great close-up gliding shots through the killer's dolls and other artifacts) due to the original master being created in NTSC; for a full explanation from the disc's producer, check out this thorough breakdown over at AV Maniacs. The first disc also contains the same two trailers as well as a great new bonus, a full commentary track by the disc's producer, Thomas Rostock, who provides one of the most engaging breakdowns of an Argento film ever created. He's extremely knowledgeable about the film and rattles off both reams of amazing trivia and eye-opening insights into the themes, structure and symbolism of the film; you'll never watch it the same way again. Interestingly, he delves into some of the Hebrew imagery present in the first half and the continental tensions running throughout the story; for an interesting companion piece, check out the thematically similar Phenomena, which takes place during Passover and has some truly grotesque religious undercurrents. Disco two contains the 105-minute cut, finally in full scope and anamorphically enhanced; the bulk of it appears to be of the same transfer quality as the Italian cut (from which it was most likely created), but the closing titles are obviously taken from a different and slightly more worn print. It's still great to finally have that original ending back and preserved for posterity, however. The second disc is rounded out with the Dario Argento: An Eye for Horror UK TV special, which everyone probably has already. You also get new trivia-packed bios for Argento, Hemmings and Nicolodi, a still gallery, and a liner notes booklet in Danish. If you don't mind watching this one in interlaced mode on your TV, this is easily the best release of this essential title so far.
After scoring a smash hit with his first film, The Bird with the Crystal Plumage, director Dario Argento quickly attempted a reprise by expanding that trendsetting giallo's formula of Americans in Italy rubbing shoulders with 
the criminal element and a psychopathic killer. However, The Cat o' Nine Tails failed to capture the critical and commercial appeal of that first hit, thanks to its abrasive insistence on refusing to conform to expectations. Romantic subplots, whodunit elements, and standard three act plotting are all tossed out the window with a glee bordering on the sadistic, allowing Argento instead to experiment wildly within the template of a murder mystery in which form and style coexist most uneasily. After this film Argento returned one year later with the even more troubling Four Flies on Grey Velvet before launching onto a different plane entirely with two successful hits in a row, Deep Red and Suspiria.
While strolling at night with his niece, Lori (Cinzia De Carolis), a blind retired reporter named Franco Arno (Karl Malden) overhears a conversation involving blackmail in a nearby car. Following a break-in at the pretigious Terzi Institute for genetic research, one of the leading researchers winds up decapitated by a passenger train the next morning. Coincidentally, the victim happened to be a participant in the blackmail discussion, so Arno teams up with scrappy newsman Carlo Giordani (James Franciscus), both of whom get more than they 
bargained for. Carlo gets close to Anna (Catherine Spaak), the mysterious daughter of the institute chariman, while Arno chases down several clues of his own. Meanwhile Carlo's photographer friend, Righetto (Vittorio Congia), has a close encounter with a garotte wielding killer who continues to strike again and again, determined to cover up a most deadly secret.
While The Bird with the Crystal Plumage featured several quirky moments which diverted temporarily from the main storyline, Cat fractures itself entirely into a series of bizarre incidents. A mysterious locket, a champion cursing pro from the underworld, a deadly gay love triangle, chromosome experiments on murderers, a razor-happy barber, and a speedy police chase through a parking deck are just a few of the odd tricks up Argento's sleeve. Though the tone of the film is oddly antiseptic and jagged, the characters are among Argento's warmest, with Franciscus and Malden making a most appealing pair of sleuths. The violent finale deliberately subverts viewer expectations by operating less as a whodunit than a nasty piece of narrative machinery which leaves its characters, innocent or not, emotionally or physically scarred for the rest of their lives. Ennio Morricone's score performs a similar function, beginnign with a soft and sweet lullaby theme before plunging into some of his darkest, strangest jazz improvisations, with shots of the killer's eyes punctuated by disturbing musical clicks,
yowls, and thuds. Cat also finds Argento experimenting more with the possibilities of editing to layer his narrative, such as the obvious example of subliminal flashes used to indicate an upcoming scene or recap an important piece of information. He later expanded on this technique in Four Flies (particularly the memorable finale) and, most effectively, in the celebrated visual and verbal echoing of Deep Red.
For many years, along with the still MIA Four Flies, Cat was one of the hardest Argento films to see in anything resembling its original form or a decent print. An RCA Japanese laserdisc came to the relief of some collectors; letterboxed at approximately 2.00:1 and sporting an odd goldish tint, this was the best option available compared to, say, the slaughtered TV print offered by Bingo Video (which cut over 22 minutes of the comic elements, not to mention nudity and violence). (Note: Like Bird, Cat was rated GP for its theatrical U.S. run, which just goes to show how out of whack the MPAA has gotten in the last thirty years.) Bearing these factors in mind, along with the bootleg Diamond DVD which is better left undiscussed, Anchor Bay's disc of Cat looks as good as one could expect. Apart from the noticeably scratchy credits which appear to be spliced in from another print (and disappointingly clip off the opening few seconds of Morricone's theme), the source material looks much more vibrant than most Argento fans could have anticipated. Gone is that sickly yellow wash we've all come to know and tolerate; here the colors are natural, bright, and quite appealing, particularly the striking odd splashes of red in the background decor. The surround audio is limited mostly to Morricone's score, which has been rechanneled to the front speakers; even the car chase plays out almost entirely in mono. The disc also includes surround tracks in Italian and French-- without subtitles or captions, alas. However, an English subtitle track is activated to translate some onscreen text (newspapers, identifying building plaques, etc.) in Italian, as opposed to the Japanese laser, which used awkwardly inserted English language footage (with much paler color) instead. Extras include "Tales of the Cat," a standard, recently shot featurette in which Argento, Morricone(!), and co-writer Dardano Saccheti offer a thumbnail version of the circumstances which led to the film's creation, complete with evenhanded views of its successes and faults. The promotional material is at least as interesting; an immaculate international trailer features a delirious mixture of footage and tinted stills to create a genuinely appealing promotional piece. It was obviously reworked to lesser effect for the U.S. trailer and TV spots (in much more battered condition), which spoil the visuals with some unconvincing verbal hype. Finally you get some appreciative liner notes by Travis Crawford (sadly buried on the back of the cover jacket), a gallery of posters and stills, and two radio promos featuring some highly unorthodox soundbites from the two stars. The Dutch disc features a similar English-language transfer with Dutch subtitles, while the French disc contains Italian and French tracks with optional French subtitles. (The same disc was later ported over as a Blue Underground release.)
While the Anchor Bay disc remains the definitive one to date, the Medusa disc offers a few twists of its own and is worth picking up for Argento diehards. The Italian language version is presented in Dolby Digital 5.1 or 2.0 mono with optional English subtitles; while the 5.1 track is an artificial-sounding wreck (though not as disastrous as Medusa's botched mix on Tenebre), the 2.0 mix sounds fine and offers a somewhat different experience from the English language edition. The actors are voiced in a far more lively fashion which, surprisingly enough, gives the film a more energetic and engaging tone, while the murders feature far more dramatic screaming, gurgling, and other noises the voice artists conjured up probably after swilling too much vino. The print also looks a bit more robust than the AB disc, with very rich colors and excellent black levels. Best of all, the Italian opening credits sequence now looks nice and clean compared to the ragged U.S. credits. No extras to speak of, however.
Following the unsuccessful, divisive experiment of The Phantom of the Opera, Dario Argento went back to basics for this equally controversial pastiche of his previous giallo hits. Long criticized for his unorthodox storytelling (usually dismissed as "weak scripts"), he continued to twist convention by concocted a serial killer yarn in which all of the protagonists are passive, mostly ineffectual 
figures, bounced around by a helter skelter plot. In the opening scene, Inspector Moretti (Von Sydow) investigates a woman's brutal murder in Turin and promises young Giacomo that the killer will be apprehended. Flash forward a couple of decades, as the same murderer stalks and butchers an especially dim pair of prostitutes on a dark and stormy night at a train station. The retired Moretti is struck by the similarities of the crime to past events, mainly due to the obsession with a macabre children's book, The Death Farm, whose suicidal dwarf author was fingered for the previous murders. The now grown Giacomo (Farinelli's Dionisi) returns to Turin and reunites with his old friends, rich asthmatic Lorenzo (a very weak Roberto Zibetti) and pretty harpist Gloria (Chiara Caselli). The murders continue, each modeled on the animal-themed killings from the book, and soon the list of suspects grows…
Even more than the underrated Trauma, Sleepless cribs bits and pieces from the Argento canon with mixed results: the thunderous opening and ill-fated 
ballerinas from Suspiria, the flawed-memory hero and double-whammy twist ending from Deep Red, the pounding rock score from Goblin, and the monstrous parent-child dynamics from Phenomena and Four Flies on Grey Velvet, to name but a few. One’s enjoyment of the film will largely depend on how much one can savor style over content; the wooden performances (Von Sydow excepted) and jagged narrative are stumbling blocks as usual, but the film’s queasy atmosphere and showstopping murders are certainly compensating factors. Certain scenes indicate Argento most certainly had his tongue firmly planted in cheek throughout the film: a disorienting location card reading “Rome” while showing a Chinese restaurant with Asian music tinkling in the background; the bizarre dwarf subplot (including a peculiar interrogation scene that parodies The Bird with the Crystal Plumage); the hilarious introduction to the rabbit-toothed waitress/murder victim; the naked hooker who quickly drops her clothes and inhibitions when the killer flashes a handful of cash. This growing humorous tendency in Argento’s work (already plainly exhibited in The Phantom of the Opera) has been a major stumbling block for many of his fans, who understandably have a problem with the fact that Argento is hardly a comedy director and doesn’t have the razor-sharp sense of satire blessed upon, say, Brian De Palma. For better or worse, this film finds him continuing to explore and evolve, making a few interesting stumbles along the way.
Even more than the aurally painful The Stendhal Syndrome, Sleepless (Nonhosonno) is a film that suffers dramatically in its English language version. While all of the cast spoke their lines in English, only Von Sydow’s voice remains on the soundtrack; however, the dubbing and line delivery are so awkward and painful to endure that any Argento fans, even those who didn’t warm up to this film in English, should feel obligated to seek out the 
Italian version, which truly plays like an entirely different film. Therefore the only viable option on DVD is the Italian DVD from Medusa, which sports magnificent 5.1 and DTS mixes of the Italian soundtrack with optional English subtitles, or the English version in 5.1. The disc also includes a making-of featurette (in Italian only) and the Italian trailer. Image quality is superb, with a rich, colorful anamorphic transfer that makes mincemeat of the sorry-looking English theatrical prints. The same video transfer is available in several other countries as well, including France (as Le sang des innocents, with the French, Italian, and English tracks but no English subs), Holland, and the UK (English version only); the latter also includes the featurette (with English subtitles) as well as a bonus disc of Dario Argento: An Eye for Horror. This commendable one-hour documentary features interviews with many of the principals from Argento’s films, including a scary-looking Daria Nicolodi and some controversial thoughts from Asia Argento about her father’s cinematic abuses directed at her throughout their collaborations. Only those completely unable to access either the Italian or British discs will find any reason to seek out the U.S. disc from Artisan, which is the worst possible way to make this film’s acquaintance. Painfully pan and scanned with a shoddy, muddy transfer, this painful joke of a release is one of the low points of DVD Euro horror; even the 5.1 track sounds more like a flimsy, lexiconed version of a 2.0 track than the dynamic mix found on the European releases. Even more perplexing, Artisan’s early VHS screeners and even the theatrical trailer on the DVD are letterboxed! At least the DVD is uncut, as opposed to the abortive R-rated VHS release, but it should still be avoided if at all possible; the tacky cover art does it no favors either. It isn’t quite as agonizing as the home video travesties visited upon Trauma, but that’s not for lack of trying.
Color, 1988, 105 mins.
Directed by Dario Argento / Starring Cristina Marsillach, Ian Charleson
Anchor Bay, Blue Underground (US R1 NTSC) / WS (2.35:1) (16:9) / DD EX/DTS-ES, Arrow (UK R2 PAL) / WS (2.35:1) (16:9), Cecchi Gori (Italy R2 PAL) / WS (1.85:1) (16:9) / DD2.0
In many respects the last full throttle Dario Argento film to date, Opera pushes his stylistic tendencies into overdrive right from the opening Steadicam shots through an opera house from the point of view of a temperamental diva. Both melancholy and vibrant as a fond farewell to the '80s should be, the storyline encapsulates many of the successful elements from Argento's previous films while packaging them in a disturbing, sexually twisted package laced with some unforgettable murder sequences. Who could ask for anything more?
After an unfortunate car accident makes a career casualty of opera star Mara Cecova, young understudy Betty (Cristina Marsillach) is pressed into service as the new lead by her director, Marc (Ian Charleson), a horror movie pro trying to move upscale. Betty's agent, Myra (Daria Nicolodi), feels nothing but enthusiasm for her young star in the making, and indeed Betty's debut turns into a smash success. Unfortunately an usher is murdered in one of the theater boxes during the performance, indicating that one of Betty's new fans may have homicidal tendencies. Inspector Santini (Urbano Barberini) investigates the mysterious goings on, while Betty's celebratory but unsuccesful opening night tryst with the stage manager (William McNamara) turns nasty when the killer arrives and performs gruesome acts while pinning Betty's eyes open with taped needles. Terrified and confused, Betty plunges into a disoriented state in which she acts as the pawn of a devious mind with violent ties to Betty's past.
Many of Opera's highlights have 
already passed into gorehound legend, including a jaw-dropping slow motion bullet sequence that cannot be adequately described in words. As with most of Argento's other films, Opera is also a treat to watch as his camera performs ungodly acrobatics: swirling up staircases, thumping along with the killer's palpitating heartbeat, and swooping through the opera house itself from the point of view of a raven. Most complaints about the film center on its bizarre, appropriately operatic ending, which begins with a tongue in cheek homage to Phenomena and winds up on a disturbingly ambiguous note. The preceding climax is actually more difficult to justify, as it features more logic loopholes than the rest of Argento's ouevre combined. The soundtrack is equally daring and likely to turn off inexperienced viewers as it weaves back and forth from Claudio Simonetti's haunting, Goblin-style music to lashings of heavy metal and classical opera. Beautiful, shocking, frustrating, and thoroughly entertaining, Opera has only become more fascinating with time and easily deserves a spot as one of Argento's most revealing and accomplished efforts.
The video history of Opera is one of the most tangled and confusing in the director's career so far. Some necessary spoilers from the film have been included here for clarification, so anyone who has not seen the film would be well advised to skip down to the next paragraph. And now, let's proceed. The Italian language VHS release eliminated several violent sequences (most of McNamara's death, the scissor tracheotomy performed on Demons 2's Coralina Cataldi Tassoni, and the raven eyeball swallowing). The film's original English dub was greeted with laughter by 
exhibitors, so Barberini's original fey dubbed voice was relooped, though alas this left much of his climactic monologue difficult to decipher. Orion picked up international distribution of the film and changed the title to Terror at the Opera, allowing frustrated Argento fans to finally see the forbidden gore courtesy of RCA/Columbia's gorgeous full frame laserdisc. Alas, this version was also heavily compromised as Orion removed several expository passages (the perfume pouring into the sink, several linking bits of footage and dialogue, the scene between Charleson and his girlfriend, and the entire "happy/crazy" epilogue with Betty shuffling through the grass, to name but a few). Contrary to the DVD packaging, a full, uncut version of Opera (under the revised title) was released on VHS in an unrated edition from Southgate; in fact, apart from those unlucky few who checked out the slightly edited R-rated cut at Blockbuster, none of the DVD versions now available will be anything new, content-wise.
Now here's where things get complicated. Opera was filmed in Super 35, so the aspect ratio has varied wildly on both the big and small screens. Orion's theatrical edition (intended for U.S. release but never fulfilled) was struck in the 1.85:1 aspect ratio, which exposed a huge amount of dead space and distracting details at the top and bottom of the frame, such as Marsillach's underwear throughout her bed scene with McNamara. The same version was used for the mildly cropped Japanese laserdisc, and the Italian DVD release from Cecchi Gori (which looks terrific but has no English subtitles, alas) is also from this "opened up" 1.85:1 edition. However, a bootleg tape of the first English dub has circulated for years in Argento's preferred 2.35:1 aspect ratio, and the director himself has exhibited the film this way at several public appearances. The "scope" version is a markedly different experience and really feels more like an Argento film. The opera sequences in particular benefit from the tighter framing; just check out the shrouded figures immediately before the "raven attack" sequence, or the rectangular stage framing during Betty's first stage appearance.
Anchor Bay's DVD edition contains the second, revised English dub, letterboxed at 2.35:1 version. Despite the THX certification, the image is too bright during normal playback. However, viewers with a "black enhance" control on their DVD player or a good grasp of the contrast and brightness controls on their TV can tweak the image until it looks just as vibrant and rich as the Japanese laser. The DD and DTS-ES audio mixes actually sound pretty much the same as the theatrical surround version; rear channel activity is surprisingly sparse given the aggressive nature of the film, offering mostly ambient support and some musical carryover during the louder passages, along 
with the expected squak or two from the ravens.
Despite the minor reservations about the image brightness and soundtrack, the Anchor Bay disc is a solid introduction to the film and, as the most easily accessible for many consumers, will suit the casual horror fan just fine. (Note that the first pressing was defective, but replacements are available directly from the company.) The imaginatively designed menus lead to some eye-popping (ahem) extras, beginning with the mediocre European trailer (in 2.35:1) and Orion's excellent, striking trailer for the scrapped U.S. release (at 1.85:1). Oddly, Southgate's marvelously well-edited video trailer is not included. The disc also contains a very good 36-minute documentary, "Conducting Opera," featuring on-camera interviews with Argento, Nicolodi, cinematographer Ronnie Taylor, Simonetti, and a particularly good Barberini, whose appealing English-speaking voice would have been much better suited for his role than either of the dubbed options. All of the participants have notable things to say about the production and offer candid observations about the difficulties behind the scenes, including the tempestuous behavior of a noticeably absent Marsillach. Interestingly, no one mentions another actress problem; according to Argento expert Alan Jones, Vanessa Redgrave reportedly backed out of playing Cecova at the last minute, leaving a voiceover and subjective camera to play her role instead. The documentary also includes the Argento/Taylor car commercial filmed prior to Opera, which had previously been available only on PAL VHS video. However, owners of the Italian DVD will be pleased to note that only that version contains the film's original, "coming for Christmas" theatrical trailer designed for Italian audiences.
Anchor Bay's limited edition of 30,000 units offers a double-disc set of Opera with the CD soundtrack. The second disc incorporates the complete Simonetti score (previously available only on vinyl from Cinevox) as well as the two heavy metal songs by Steel Grave. However, the opera selections from the original album have been dropped in favor of the Daemonia "Opera" theme remix (also featured as a music video on the first disc), accompanied by the Rollerball Daemonia cue from their earlier albums and Simonetti's overused "I'll Take the Night" song from The Versace Murders. The score proper is really the best reason to spring for the set; even without a cue listing, it now completes the entire music availability from Opera on CD when paired up with Cinevox's official CD release (containing the Brian Eno cues and other musical odds and ends).
A fascinating pair of alternate audio versions of Opera can be heard on the UK DVD release from Arrow, which has only marginal text extras but is nevertheless an essential part of any Argento digital library. Featuring superb, colorful picture quality and similar scope framing (16:9) to the Anchor Bay presentation, the DVD contains the original dub track with Barberini's prissier voice, which fits far more organically into the soundtrack. Note that the music mix is also slightly different, featuring yet another variation on the radio music during the first eye-taping scene. Best of all, the DVD contains the original Italian audio in a very robust surround presentation which even outclasses the Italian DVD. The front and rear speakers are the most active of any available mix, and the disc also includes optional English subtitles, making this the first legitimate subtitled edition of the film's most satisfying aural rendition. Completists will also note that only the Italian version concludes with a male narrator relating most of Betty's pro-nature speech at the end, though it's still translated in the first person for some reason. (The subtitles appear to be translated from the Italian track, not transcribed from the English one.) Several passages of music in the Italian version are nonexistent in both English ones; for example, during Ian Charleson's bedroom conversation with his girlfriend in which they read the early newspaper reviews, Simonetti's "Crows" can be heard playing on the radio in the background, and Betty's stroll through several hallways of red curtains after the air duct sequence and Ian Charleson's Hamlet reverie are accompanied quite audibly by Simonetti's "Confusion." In the English version, both scenes are severly muted down nearly to the point of silence. Also in the Italian version, an ironic song gurgles on the radio during Betty's first needle experience, though here the only music during the scene is a barely audible Brian Eno piece. For PAL-friendly viewers, the UK disc offers an invaluable opportunity to evaluate Argento's masterpiece in two different incarnations, both effective and worthy of enjoyment on their own terms. (Note that the packaging advertises the film under its alternate Terror at the Opera title, an alteration also made to the otherwise intact Italian opening credits.)
Color, 1980, 107m.
Directed by Dario Argento
Starring Leigh McCloskey, Irene Miracle, Eleonora Giorgi
Anchor Bay, Blue Underground (US R1 NTSC), Fox (Italy R2 PAL) / WS (1.85:1) (16:9) / DD5.1
a dazzling, stylish feast loaded with some of Argento's strongest visual strokes of genius.Rose Elliott (Irene Miracle), a young poetess in New York, acquires a rare book, The Three Mothers, written by an alchemist named Varelli. The book chronicles three houses of the damned inhabited by a trio of malefic sisters: the Mother of Tears, the Mother of Sighs, and the Mother of Shadows. Rose believes that her own ancient apartment building is one of these cursed locations, and she tries to pass the information on to her musicologist brother, Mark (Leigh McCloskey), who resides in Rome. After a gruesome incident in his apartment, Mark rushes to New York only to find that Rose is now missing. The creepy bookseller Kazanian (Sacha Pitoeff) seems to offer a few clues to Rose's disappearance, but ultimately Mark himself must unravel the hellish mystery lurking within the bowels of this strange building.
Designed more or less as a sequel to Suspiria (which focused on Mater Suspiriorum, or the Mother of Sighs), Inferno is a more challenging and languid affair which tosses out even the shreds of a Nancy Drew storyline found in the first film. Early on the film announces its refusal to adhere to reality when Rose drops her keys into a puddle of water and finds herself submerged in a flooded ballroom littered with decrepit floating corpses. Only on subsequent viewings do some of the film's odder elements really come together, such as the recurring animal imagery; just stop and think for a moment about the chopped up meat Alida Valli feeds those cats. All of the actors seem to be completely in a daze, with the lovely Daria Nicolodi turning up again as a rich hypochondriac who meets one of the film's more absurd violent fates. Also, look fast in the Rome sequence for a cameo by the Mother 
of Tears, played by the striking Ania Pieroni (also in Argento's Tenebre but best known as the ill-fated babysitter in Lucio Fulci's House by the Cemetery). Keith Emerson, formerly of Emerson Lake & Palmer, contributes an audacious and often brilliant piano-heavy music score, the first of many to come during his Italian film music career.
Thanks to a typo on the sleeve for Key Video's first VHS release claiming an erroneous 83 minute running time, rumors have persisted for years that Argento's film has been subjected to massive cuts outside of Italy. In fact, the U.S. version has always been complete, running a full 107 minutes like Anchor Bay's current DVD. The only major censorship hassles turned up in Britain, where Fox's VHS release was trimmed by a few seconds to omit some "animal cruelty" (the mouse chomping and kitty bashing). In any case, the DVD is by far the best way to experience Inferno thanks to its lustrous picture quality, which brings out all of Argento's heavily saturated color lighting. The 1.85:1 Technovision aspect ratio is accurately duplicated here, with a significant amount of extra information added in comparison to the fullscreen videotapes. The original Dolby Stereo soundtrack has been tweaked very slightly to modern 5.1 specifications, resulting in a subtle but often creepy directional mix that does what it can with the material's limitations. While Argento was unwilling to provide a full commentary for this release, he does appear during an informative and endearing video interview segment which should satisfy the curious. His outlook on the film seems to have improved somewhat over the years, considering all of the painful associations he had (the studio held it up after its completion in 1978, Argento was plagued with hepatitis during filming, and so on). The disc also includes a spectacular but spoiler-filled European trailer, and an attractive but relatively skimpy still gallery and talent bio section round out this deliciously nasty package, obviously a must for Euro horror fans.
