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Dis­cov­er the first-per­son POV ter­ror of Dario Argento’s Opera

21 Jan 2019

Words by Anton Bitel

A bearded man with long hair wearing a headpiece and appearing distressed against a blue background.
A bearded man with long hair wearing a headpiece and appearing distressed against a blue background.
The hor­ror maestro’s 1987 gial­lo is released in a spe­cial new 2K restora­tion this month.

This time our direc­tor OD’d on weird,” says wardrobe mis­tress Giu­lia (Corali­na Catal­di-Tas­soni) in Dario Argento’s Opera. It isn’t like the movies. There if you come up with some­thing orig­i­nal, every­one con­grat­u­lates you.”

Giu­lia is com­plain­ing about the tran­si­tion of Mar­co (Ian Charleson) – a hor­ror film direc­tor, and by his own girlfriend’s admis­sion, a sadist” – from cin­e­ma to stage as he presents a mod­ernist adap­ta­tion of Verdi’s opera Mac­beth, com­plete with, as its sopra­no Mara Ceco­va com­plains, birds onstage, back pro­jec­tion, laser beams!”, and a grand World War Two set. Out­raged that she has to share the stage with a mur­der of ravens which threat­en to out-caw her solo, the diva storms off, her retreat shown from her own retreat­ing per­spec­tive as, heard but not seen, she remon­strates with the on-stage Mar­co – and with any­one else who will lis­ten – about her sense of over-ampli­fied mortification.

There is no short­age of POV shots in Argento’s gial­li, but what makes this one so sin­gu­lar, aside from the fact that it is not aligned with the killer, is its back­wards momen­tum. No won­der, giv­en that Mara seems nev­er to be look­ing where she is actu­al­ly going, that she should acci­den­tal­ly walk back into the path of a mov­ing car moments lat­er, leav­ing her lead­ing role wide open for young under­study Bet­ty (Cristi­na Marsillach).

It is the kind of stun­ning oppor­tu­ni­ty for career advance­ment that, as Mar­co points out to Bet­ty, Usu­al­ly only hap­pens to peo­ple in the movies.” Yet Bet­ty is wor­ried. It’s the opera,” she insists. Mac­beth brings bad luck.” Sure enough, not only will peo­ple involved in the pro­duc­tion start meet­ing gris­ly ends, but a fig­ure in mask and gloves is both stalk­ing Bet­ty, and soon forc­ing her to wit­ness – with pins placed under her eyes to pre­vent her clos­ing them – his rit­u­alised acts of mur­der. Is frigid Bet­ty, how­ev­er, a mere vic­tim of these crimes, or – like the char­ac­ter of Lady Mac­beth whom she is por­tray­ing onstage – an inspir­er and insti­ga­tor of bloody action?

Much as Opera resorts at var­i­ous points to reversed POV cam­er­a­work, the film also keeps look­ing back over its own his­to­ry. The open­ing shot of a raven, and the cru­cial promi­nence of these birds in what fol­lows, evokes the famous 1845 nar­ra­tive poem by Edgar Allen Poe, and through that Poe him­self, who is often cred­it­ed as the found­ing father of detec­tive fic­tion and a key ances­tor for gial­lo itself. Even the ravens them­selves are back­ward-look­ing, said, through a mas­ter­ful (if typ­i­cal) piece of Argen­to-esque pseu­do-sci­ence, to be venge­ful crea­tures with an ele­phant-like mem­o­ry for any past mistreatment.

Argen­to also looks back to the oper­at­ic form, with which his own gial­lo shares a baro­que­ly stylised approach to restag­ing old sto­ries, while him­self con­jur­ing not just the myth of Mac­beth, but also Hitchcock’s Psy­cho and The Birds, and more improb­a­bly, in the final Alpine scenes, Robert Wise’s The Sound of Music. Mean­while Bet­ty is plagued by half dreams half mem­o­ries of a pri­mal scene from her child­hood – and the sense that at least part of the film’s nar­ra­tive is a night­mare in a dam­aged brain seems con­firmed by occa­sion­al cut­aways to the throb­bing upper hemi­spheres of an actu­al encephalon, usu­al­ly pref­ac­ing a hal­lu­ci­na­to­ry flashback.

In short, Opera is always head­ing back­wards to move for­wards, and ends, bizarrely, with its hero­ine crawl­ing in joy­ous derange­ment amidst the pri­mor­dial plants and crit­ters of the nat­ur­al world, in an ulti­mate act of atavism.

There are oth­er POVs here – Betty’s, the killer’s, var­i­ous eaves­drop­pers’, even the ravens’ – while Argen­to uses the opera pro­duc­tion to offer a dis­tort­ed per­spec­tive on his own film­mak­ing process, with Mar­co his dou­ble. One of the news­pa­per reviews for Marco’s Mac­beth reads, Advice to the direc­tor: go back to hor­ror films, for­get opera.”

Yet in this most self-ref­er­en­tial of films, with its mur­ders wil­ful­ly per­formed as set-pieces, its in-built cap­tive audi­ence, its cos­tumed killer and its smoke and mir­rors, the dif­fer­ence between hor­ror and opera col­laps­es as the trau­mas – and com­plic­i­ties – of the past are seri­al­ly restaged in a dizzy­ing blend of high and low art. And although Opera appears to have a res­o­lu­tion of sorts in the Swiss Alps, no fat lady ever sings, and we are left with the impres­sion that the show, in all its deranged psy­chodra­ma, must go on.

Opera is released by Cult Films in a new 2K restora­tion on dual-for­mat Blu-ray and DVD (and on Dig­i­tal) on 21 January.

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