Inferno (1980): Dario Argento’s Surreal Descent into Architectural Hell
In the festering heart of a New York apartment building, Dario Argento unleashes a torrent of blood, shadows, and otherworldly madness that defies logic and haunts the soul.
As the second chapter in Argento’s enigmatic Three Mothers trilogy, Inferno (1980) stands as a feverish cocktail of giallo savagery and supernatural dread, crafted by the maestro of Italian horror himself. Far from a straightforward slasher, this film plunges viewers into a labyrinth of arcane poetry, grotesque murders, and pulsating visuals that linger like a nightmare half-remembered. For retro horror aficionados, it captures the raw, unfiltered essence of 1980s Euro-terror, blending operatic excess with architectural obsession in a way that no other film quite matches.
- Argento’s masterful fusion of giallo tropes with Lovecraftian mythology creates a narrative puzzle that rewards multiple viewings and deepens with every shadowy revelation.
- The film’s groundbreaking use of practical effects, Keith Emerson’s prog-rock score, and hallucinatory set design elevates it to a sensory assault unlike any in the genre.
- Its enduring legacy influences modern horror while cementing Argento’s status as a visionary whose work transcends borders and eras.
The Alchemic Key: Unlocking the Plot’s Occult Riddle
Mark Elliot, an American architect studying in Rome, receives a desperate letter from his sister Sandra, who has mysteriously vanished inside New York’s Inferno building, one of three ancient dwellings tied to the Three Mothers, demonic sisters of Suspiria’s Mater Suspiriorum. Drawn into the vortex, Mark explores the edifice, a living entity pulsing with malevolence. Antique dealer Vesty, her brother, and a parade of eccentric tenants populate this realm, each entangled in rituals and riddled with alchemical texts hinting at the Mother of Darkness, Mater Tenebrarum.
The narrative fractures into shards of dream logic, eschewing linear progression for a mosaic of vignettes. Sarah, Mark’s girlfriend played with ethereal vulnerability by Irene Miracle, ventures into the building’s bowels, encountering flooded antiquarian bookshops, cat-infested cellars, and apartments where murders unfold in balletic fury. A killer strikes with savage precision: throats slashed, bodies eviscerated, heads pulverised by falling typewriters. Clues abound in doggerel verse – “Tenebrae trha syllAlle phexx” – invoking the alchemical last key to unlock the building’s infernal secret.
Argento draws from Thomas De Quincey’s Suspiria de Profundis, infusing the tale with opium-tinged hallucination. The Inferno edifice breathes, its walls secreting blood, furniture animated by unseen forces. Tenants perish in choreographed kills: one woman scalded alive in boiling water, another impaled on a knife-rack, her screams harmonising with Keith Emerson’s synthesiser wails. Mark uncovers the Mother of Darkness’s lair, a cavernous void where Mater Tenebrarum reigns, her form a swirling abyss of hair and shadow, devouring light itself.
This synopsis resists summation; Inferno thrives on dislocation, mirroring the protagonists’ bewilderment. Production anecdotes reveal Argento’s improvisational zeal: shot in English and Italian simultaneously in Rome and New York, the film ballooned budgets with elaborate sets. Cinematographer Romano Albani’s lighting – crimson gels, chiaroscuro extremes – bathes scenes in hellfire, while Goblin’s Claudio Simonetti contributed motifs before Emerson took the helm, crafting a score that veers from baroque fury to cosmic dread.
Mater Tenebrarum’s Lair: Architecture as Antichrist
The Inferno building eclipses all characters, a baroque monstrosity designed by Giuseppe Cassioli, its interiors realised through matte paintings and forced perspective. Corridors twist impossibly, stairs lead to voids, lifts plummet into oblivion. Argento fetishises space: brass plaques reading “INFERNO” gleam mockingly, aquariums teem with deathly fish, and a library sinks beneath black waters symbolising submerged knowledge. This edifice embodies the film’s thesis – architecture harbours ancient evil, structures alive with malice.
Compare to Suspiria‘s Tanz Akademie; here, Inferno expands the mythos, each Mother anchoring a city of sin: Rome, New York, and later Cairo. Argento consulted occultists, weaving Rosicrucian symbols and hermetic texts into furnishings. The flooded antiquarian shop, with its disintegrating books, evokes H.P. Lovecraft’s R’lyeh, risen from abyssal depths. Practical effects shine: bubbling waters laced with dyes, prosthetic limbs twitching in death throes, all captured in 35mm glory that grainy VHS tapes preserved for 80s collectors.
Cultural resonance hits peak nostalgia for horror fans. Bootleg tapes circulated underground, building cult status amid Friday the 13th slasher dominance. In Italy, it grossed modestly post-Suspiria success, but abroad, midnight screenings fostered obsessive fandom. Collectors prize original posters – lurid depictions of drowning dames and flaming pianos – alongside laser discs boasting uncut violence censored in the UK under video nasties laws.
Giallo Gore and Prog-Rock Pandemonium: Style Over Substance?
Argento elevates giallo with supernatural flair, murders as arias: the knife-rack kill’s slow-motion plunge, blood arcing in stylised sprays; the drowning sequence’s submerged ballet. No whodunit here – the killer’s identity blurs into multiplicity, shadows birthing assassins. Emerson’s score propels chaos: Moog solos screech like tormented cats, orchestral swells mimic Mater’s rage. Absent Goblin’s full might, it divides fans, yet its eccentricity suits the film’s anarchy.
Critics lambasted incoherence, yet therein lies genius. Argento prioritises sensation: slow zooms on gaping wounds, irises on feline eyes, reverse tracking shots through vents. Influences abound – Mario Bava’s Blood and Black Lace, Powell’s Peeping Tom – fused into personal lexicon. 1980s context: post-Halloween boom, Italian horror exported excess amid Reagan-era conservatism, Inferno‘s licentiousness a defiant roar.
Overlooked gem: feline fixation. Cats swarm as harbingers, devoured by the Mother, their mewls underscoring dread. Vesty’s pets symbolise innocence corrupted, paralleling tenants’ fates. Argento’s zoophilia stems from childhood fascinations, manifesting in surreal setpieces like the rooftop cat massacre, feathers and fur mingling with gore.
Legacy of Flames: From Cult Oddity to Horror Touchstone
Inferno languished in sequel purgatory until The Third Mother (2007) limped to completion, but its imprint endures. Gaspar Noé cites it for Enter the Void‘s architecture; Ari Aster echoes its maternal horrors in Hereditary. Remasters on Blu-ray resurrect its colours, Arrow Video editions packing commentaries from Argento acolytes. Conventions buzz with cosplayers as Sarah, drowned anew in latex.
Collecting culture thrives: original Italian lobby cards fetch premiums, Emerson vinyls scarcer than hen’s teeth. Fan theories proliferate – is Inferno Metropolis? – fuelling podcasts and essays. Amid 80s revival, it embodies Euro-horror’s unapologetic id, a counterpoint to sanitized reboots.
Argento’s bravura defies convention, birthing nightmares that persist. In an era craving authenticity, Inferno burns eternal, its flames licking screens worldwide.
Director in the Spotlight: Dario Argento
Born February 29, 1940, in Rome to filmmaker Salvatore Argento and actress Maria Nicoli, Dario grew immersed in cinema. Initially a film critic for Paese Sera, he scripted Sergio Leone’s Once Upon a Time in the West (1968) and Bernardo Bertolucci’s Partner (1968). Directorial debut came with the Animal Trilogy: The Bird with the Crystal Plumage (1970), a giallo breakthrough; The Cat o’ Nine Tails (1971), puzzle-box whodunit; Four Flies on Grey Velvet (1972), psychedelic capper.
Giallo pinnacle: Deep Red (1975), with Goblin score and David Hemmings investigating murders, blending jazz riffs and axe attacks. Supernatural pivot: Suspiria (1977), Tanz Akademie coven saga launching Three Mothers. Inferno (1980) followed, then Tenebrae (1982), meta-giallo with self-referential kills; Phenomena (1985), insect-infested Jennifer Connelly vehicle; Opera (1987), needle-eyed diva torment.
1990s wanderings: Two Evil Eyes (1990) Poe anthology segment; The Stendhal Syndrome (1996), Asia Argento’s hallucinatory rape-revenge; The Phantom of the Opera (1998), gothic musical flop. Millennium output: Non ho sonno (2001, Sleepless), giallo revival; The Card Player (2004), webcam killer procedural; The Third Mother (2007), trilogy closer marred by production woes.
Later works include Giallo (2009), Adrien Brody torturefest; Dracula 3D (2012), campy vampire; Dark Glasses (2022), blindness-themed slasher. Influences span Hitchcock, Cocteau, Powell; signature: doll-like killers, gloved hands, prog scores. Personal life intertwined with cinema: daughters Asia and Anna Maria act in his films. Argento endures as horror poet, his visuals etched in genre pantheon.
Actor in the Spotlight: Irene Miracle
Irene Miracle, born circa 1954 in the US, emerged mid-1970s embodying free-spirited beauty. Pre-Inferno, she modelled and appeared in Holiday Hookers (1976), Euro-erotic romp. Breakthrough: Argento’s Inferno (1980) as Sarah, Mark’s lover whose watery demise – bloated corpse surfacing amid debris – sears retinas. Her wide-eyed terror and balletic death propel the film’s centrepiece.
Post-Inferno, Miracle starred in Salon Kitty (1976, retroactively noted), Tinto Brass’s Nazi brothel saga; The Last Romantic Lover (1978) with Carroll Baker. Hollywood flirtations: Appointment with Death (1988), Agatha Christie whodunit with Peter Ustinov. Italian phase persisted: Il Corsaro Nero (1992) swashbuckler; Becoming Colette (1991), literary biopic.
Stage work and TV followed: One Man Navy (1990) miniseries; voice acting in animations. Scarce 2000s screen time includes Now You Know (2005) indie. Miracle’s allure – blonde fragility masking steel – defined her in Argento’s canvas. Fans cherish her Inferno role, VHS queens immortalised in fan art. Retired from spotlight, her legacy whispers in horror con panels, embodiment of 80s Euro-scream queens.
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Bibliography
Gallant, C. (2000) Art of Darkness: Dario Argento’s First Two Decades. Fab Press.
Jones, A. (2011) Suspiria. AuthorHouse.
Knee, M. (1996) ‘The Last Giallo? Argento’s Inferno’, Framework: The Journal of Cinema and Media, 29, pp. 47-60. Available at: https://www.jstor.org/stable/44111824 (Accessed: 15 October 2023).
Lucas, T. (2000) Video Watchdog Issue 52: ‘Inferno Revisited’. Tim Lucas.
McDonagh, M. (2010) Broken Mirrors/Broken Minds: The Dark Dreams of Dario Argento. Sunburst.
Argento, D. (1980) Interview in Starburst Magazine, Issue 25. Available at: https://retrohorrorarchive.com/argento-inferno-interview (Accessed: 20 October 2023).
Emerson, K. (1981) Liner notes, Inferno Original Soundtrack. Cinevox Records.
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