Triple Threat: Dario Argento’s Three Mothers Trilogy Ended an Era of Giallo Movies

A story has a beginning, a middle, and an end. Maybe that’s why the trilogy is such a satisfying structure for so many epic series or curious corners of cinema history. This year in Triple Threat, Ken Lowe revisits another of cinema’s best trilogies each month, including some unofficial trilogies that have come to define a director, actor, or time in film history. You can follow the series here.
Everything in Dario Argento’s films, so once said Guillermo del Toro, is trying to kill you. The absolute chaos and unpredictability of films like Tenebrae or Opera are an Argento signature, and part of his indelible mark on the giallo subgenre of horror. Like a lot of auteurs, Argento makes movies that are not concerned with convention (narrative or otherwise): Episodic scenes of gruesome violence sometimes come completely out of nowhere, principal perspective characters may either die or turn out to be villains. As if to compound the dissonance, his films’ scores are liable to go anywhere. You never know what’s coming.
Argento has had a prolific career, and as recently as last year has still been writing scripts. He’s about as diametrically opposed to a franchise filmmaker as can be found, so it’s interesting that he’s got his own explicit trilogy, and that it isn’t even an unofficial one like, say, John Carpenter’s.
Argento created his own creepy mythos with his Three Mothers trilogy, creating a loose but continuous narrative around three witches who are so powerful that they inspire madness and violence in everyone around them, and the imperiled young women who find themselves faced with the task of defeating them and their insane followers. The subject matter may be particular compared to his other works, but the trademark vile, transgressive, shocking violence is pure Argento.
The Movies
Suzy Bannion (Jessica Harper) is a young American ingénue joining a dance academy on a rainy night in Freiburg, Germany—a city, Argento has noted in his interviews, that lies close to the borders with other countries that provide the continental European fairy tale influences that informed his and Daria Nicolodi’s script. On the night Suzy arrives, she witnesses a woman fleeing into the night, right before she’s denied entry by some panicky person inside. We witness the murders that Suzy does not—two women brutally slain. The movie follows Suzy as she tries to uncover the truth of the murders, and what’s happening at the academy of dance after hours. Her harrowing journey ends with a confrontation with one of the witches, cloaked in invisibility, as the reanimated corpse of one of her friends menaces her.
Suspiria’s plot and performances aren’t what sets it apart, though they don’t hold the movie back at all. Dario Argento’s team crafted an unforgettable atmosphere, though, with their visually arresting sets built specifically for the movie and the earnestly weird music of prog rock band Goblin, who collaborated with Argento on the soundtrack. (The band was reportedly given one day to write and one day to record this soundtrack. Make of that what you will if you, like me, find the score to be a bit repetitive.)
Although critics looked askance at it at the time, Suspiria has endured as a cult film with a completely unique look and feel. Argento, reputedly the kind of director who signs off on every decision big and small, crafted something that stuck in the minds of horror fans right around the time the slasher subgenre was coming into bloom.
Rose (Irene Miracle) runs across something disturbing in the book of poetry she purchases from the shop on the ground floor of the foreboding apartment building where she lives in New York. She suspects that she may live in the building told of as one of the lairs of one of the powerful witches called the Three Mothers. Drawn to uncover the truth, Rose writes to her brother Mark (Leigh McCloskey) in Rome to ask his help, and then immediately proceeds to delve into the absolute scariest and ickiest parts of the building.
Mark, meanwhile, receives the letter but ignores it because a hot (and creepy) woman in his university class distracts him. When his girlfriend goes to investigate Rose’s cry for help, it ends with her and another bystander gruesomely murdered. By the time Mark figures any of this out, there are only scraps of Rose’s letter left, and a phone call between the siblings is interrupted by shadowy home invaders. In escaping them, Rose also gets killed, leaving clueless Mark the sudden protagonist and perspective character walking into a situation he can’t possibly understand or be prepared for.