From blood-soaked ballets to suburban spells, witchcraft horror evolves yet endures in Suspiria and The Craft.

In the pantheon of witchcraft horror, few films cast spells as potent as Dario Argento’s Suspiria (1977) and Andrew Fleming’s The Craft (1996). Separated by nearly two decades, these movies channel the arcane fears of their times, blending supernatural dread with cultural anxieties. This analysis pits their covens against each other, revealing how witchcraft cinema shifted from operatic excess to intimate rebellion.

• Suspiria’s hallucinatory visuals and Goblin’s throbbing score define 1970s giallo-infused witchcraft terror.
• The Craft reimagines witches as angsty teens, exploring power’s corrupting allure amid 1990s youth culture.
• Across eras, both films dissect female empowerment, matriarchal horrors, and the seductive pull of the occult.

Witchcraft’s Dual Enchantment: Suspiria and The Craft

Veiled Academies of the Arcane

At the heart of both films lies the coven, a sisterhood shrouded in secrecy and menace. In Suspiria, young American dancer Suzy Bannon (Jessica Harper) arrives at the prestigious Tanz Akademie in Freiburg, Germany, only to stumble into a labyrinth of ancient evil. The academy serves as a facade for the coven of the Three Mothers, led by the imperious Mater Suspiriorum. Argento constructs this world as a fever dream: rain-lashed exteriors give way to opulent interiors drenched in primary colours—crimson walls, cobalt blues, emerald greens—that pulse with unnatural vitality. The witches here embody primordial terror, their rituals involving murder by poisoned hair grips, shattered windows raining glass shards, and a climactic impalement that defies anatomical logic.

Contrast this with The Craft, where the coven forms organically among four outcast high school girls in Los Angeles: Sarah (Robin Tunney), the newcomer with latent powers; Nancy (Fairuza Balk), the volatile wild card; Bonnie (Neve Campbell), scarred by abuse; and Rochelle (Rachel True), battling racism. Their witchcraft draws from eclectic sources—Wicca-lite rituals, voodoo dolls, and spells invoked under the full moon. Fleming grounds the supernatural in everyday suburbia: a bus crash levitated by spite, a bully’s hair falling out in clumps, a love spell gone awry. What begins as empowerment spirals into petty vengeance, mirroring the fragile egos of adolescence.

These covens reflect their eras’ obsessions. Suspiria taps into post-war European unease, with the academy’s labyrinthine corridors echoing fascist bunkers or occult Nazi myths. The Craft, released amid the Riot Grrrl movement and teen cinema boom, weaponises witchcraft as a metaphor for girl power, albeit one laced with cautionary backlash. Both portray witchcraft not as solitary practice but communal force, where initiation demands blood oaths and betrayal invites annihilation.

Psychedelic Nightmares vs Grunge Glamour

Argento’s directorial bravura in Suspiria favours operatic horror. Cinematographer Luciano Tovoli employs wide-angle lenses to distort space, turning staircases into vertiginous voids and dance studios into slaughterhouses. The infamous iris impalement scene, where a detective meets his end via a falling skylight, exemplifies this: shards cascade in slow motion, blood sprays in arcs of scarlet against the hyper-saturated palette. Goblin’s soundtrack—a synthesiser maelstrom of whispers, shrieks, and pounding percussion—amplifies the sensory assault, making every footstep a harbinger of doom.

The Craft adopts a sleeker, MTV-inflected aesthetic. Fleming and cinematographer Alexander Gruszynski use handheld shots and quick cuts to capture the chaos of teen rituals, with practical effects like levitating crows and self-immolating hands adding gritty realism. The film’s glamour lies in its costuming: thrift-store goth meets 90s grunge, from Nancy’s fishnets and Doc Martens to Sarah’s ethereal white dresses. Sound design shifts from hypnotic chants (“We are the weirdos, mister”) to industrial electronica by Danny Elfman and Graeme Revell, underscoring the shift from mystical awe to personal vendetta.

Visually, Suspiria overwhelms with abstraction—magenta irises blooming in rain, blind pianists sensing intruders through vibrations—while The Craft integrates magic into the mundane, like insects swarming a tormentor’s bed or a mouth sewn shut by invisible threads. This evolution mirrors horror’s trajectory: from Euro-horror’s baroque flourishes to Hollywood’s character-driven chills.

Sorcerous Soundscapes and Auditory Hexes

Sound proves witchcraft’s invisible thread between the films. Goblin’s score for Suspiria remains a cornerstone of horror music, its motifs—wailing saxophones evoking Mater Lachrymarum, tribal drums summoning primal rites—woven into the narrative. Whispers of incantations bleed into ambient noise, creating paranoia; the film’s opening murder, punctuated by thunderous bass, sets a tone of unrelenting assault. Argento once described the music as “the fourth protagonist,” a sentiment echoed in production notes where band members improvised amid set chaos.

In The Craft, audio layers build psychological tension. Spells chanted in unison over crashing waves or candlelit circles carry folkloric weight, drawing from real pagan traditions. The score’s grunge-rock edges, punctuated by heartbeats and shattering glass, heighten domestic horror: Nancy’s levitation scene throbs with distorted guitars, her descent into madness marked by echoing laughs. Both films use diegetic sound—creaking floors in the academy, wind howling through coven gatherings—to blur reality and ritual.

This auditory witchcraft influences successors, from Hereditary‘s claps to The Witch‘s folk hymns, proving sound as sorcery’s most enduring spell.

Effects of Enchantment: Practical Magic Unleashed

Special effects anchor both films’ credibility. Suspiria relies on handmade horrors: rubber bats suspended on wires, squibs exploding in fountains of gore, and a climactic bat swarm crafted from real insects and miniatures. Argento’s effects maestro, Germano Natali, engineered the glass-shard deluge using sugar glass and hidden blades, prioritising visceral impact over seamlessness. These analog feats, born of 1970s ingenuity, lend the film an artisanal dread that CGI later supplanted.

The Craft bridges eras with a mix of practical and early digital work. KNB Effects Group handled the grotesque: melting faces via prosthetics, impaled bodies with pneumatic rigs, and Nancy’s fiery demise using fire-retardant gels. Subtler illusions—like levitating broomsticks or glamour spells altering appearances—employed wires and matte paintings, evoking practical magic amid 90s polish. The bus stunt, a real vehicle flipped with pyrotechnics, grounds the supernatural in stunt coordination.

Both showcase effects as narrative drivers: Suspiria’s spectacles reveal coven secrets, while The Craft’s underscore power’s physical toll, from Bonnie’s healed scars to Rochelle’s guilt-induced visions.

Empowerment’s Shadow: Femininity and Power

Themes of female agency unite yet divide the films. Suspiria presents witches as ageless matriarchs, their power rooted in bloodlines and curses from Thomas De Quincey’s novella. Suzy’s arc from naive pupil to coven destroyer subverts victimhood, her blue eyes piercing the red haze like a purifying force. Yet Argento’s gaze lingers voyeuristically, blending empowerment with exploitation.

The Craft democratises witchcraft, granting misfits godlike control. Nancy’s mantra—”Whatever you send out, you get back times three”—twists into narcissism, her arc a cautionary tale of unchecked rage. Intersections of race (Rochelle’s hex on a racist peer) and class (Nancy’s trailer-park fury) add nuance, though the film flirts with stereotypes. Sarah’s moral compass restores balance, affirming witchcraft’s dual edges.

Across eras, both probe patriarchy’s underbelly: academies and schools as microcosms of oppression, spells as retributive justice. Post-#MeToo readings amplify this, recasting Nancy and Suzy as proto-feminists battling systemic evil.

Enduring Hexes: Legacy in Modern Horror

Suspiria‘s influence permeates Luca Guadagnino’s 2018 remake, which traded colours for realism while retaining the coven core. It inspired Inferno and Tenebrae, cementing Argento’s Three Mothers saga. The Craft spawned a 2020 sequel, The Craft: Legacy, and echoed in The Power of the Dog-esque teen occult tales like The Babysitter.

Production lore enriches both: Argento shot Suspiria amid Berlin’s Red Army Faction terror, infusing real dread; Fleming battled studio interference, preserving the film’s edge. Censorship dogged releases—UK cuts for violence, MPAA battles for nudity—highlight witchcraft’s provocative pull.

Today, amid witchTok and neopagan revivals, these films remind us: the coven endures, adapting spells to new shadows.

Director in the Spotlight

Dario Argento, born in 1940 in Rome to a German mother and Italian father, emerged from film criticism into screenwriting before helming his directorial debut, The Bird with the Crystal Plumage (1970), a giallo thriller that launched his career. Influenced by Alfred Hitchcock and Mario Bava, Argento blended stylish violence with psychological intrigue, pioneering the giallo subgenre. His 1970s peak included Deep Red (1975), a razor-sharp whodunit with progressive rock score, and the Three Mothers trilogy: Suspiria (1977), Inferno (1980), and The Mother of Tears (2007).

The 1980s saw ventures into supernatural horror like Tenebrae (1982), a meta-slasher, and Phenomena (1985), starring his daughter Asia Argento amid insect horrors. Collaborations with Goblin defined his soundscapes, while his visual motifs—grand staircases, glinting blades—became signatures. Personal tragedies, including the 1986 murder of pianist collaborator Daria Nicolodi’s friend, shadowed later works like Opera (1987), a hallucinatory aria of gore.

Argento’s filmography spans 20+ features: Cat o’ Nine Tails (1971), procedural giallo; Four Flies on Grey Velvet (1972), psychedelic mystery; Trauma (1993), American-set shocker with Asia; The Stendhal Syndrome (1996), exploring art-induced madness; Non ho sonno (2001, aka Sleepless), neo-giallo revival; and Giallo (2009), self-referential decline. Knighted by Italy, wheelchair-bound post-2009 accident, Argento endures as horror’s maestro, his influence on directors like Guillermo del Toro and Ari Aster profound.

Actor in the Spotlight

Fairuza Balk, born in 1974 in Point Reyes, California, to a folk singer mother and commodity trader father, began acting at age five in TV commercials. Discovered for Return to Oz (1985) as Dorothy Gale, her haunted eyes captivated, earning Saturn Award nods. The 1990s cemented her as a rebel icon: Gas Food Lodging (1991), indie breakout; Valmont (1989), period seductress; and The Craft (1996), where as Nancy Downs she unleashed feral intensity, blending vulnerability with villainy.

Balk’s eclectic roles followed: American History X (1998), neo-Nazi girlfriend; The Waterboy (1998), comedic turn; Personal Velocity (2002), indie drama; Don’t Come Knockin’ (2005), Wim Wenders Western; Wild Tigers I Have Known (2006), adolescent queer tale. Voice work graced The Haunting of Sunshine Girl web series (2015), while music pursuits included her band Ghetto Lovely and Destroy All Monsters stint.

Filmography highlights: Discovery Girls (1984), child debut; Shadow of the Wolf (1992), Arctic adventure; Things to Do in Denver When You’re Dead (1995), crime ensemble; The Island of Dr. Moreau (1996), ill-fated Brando project; <://Humpday (2009), mumblecore; Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans (2009), Nic Cage fever dream; Future Weather (2012), eco-drama; August: Osage County (2013), Meryl Streep powerhouse; and recent She’s Funny That Way (2014). Balk’s intensity, from witchcraft wildchild to spectral survivor, marks her as horror’s enduring enchantress.

Bibliography

Argento, D. (2000) Paura. Fabbri Editori.

Grist, R. (2000) ‘Suspiria and the giallo tradition’, in European Nightmares: Horror Cinema in Europe, 1945-1980. Wallflower Press, pp. 156-168.

Harper, J. (2018) ‘Jessica Harper on Suspiria’s legacy’, Fangoria, 15 October. Available at: https://www.fangoria.com/jessica-harper-suspiria/ (Accessed: 10 October 2023).

Jones, A. (2016) The Cinema of Dario Argento. Bloomsbury Academic.

Knee, J. (2003) ‘The Craft and postfeminist teen horror’, Postfeminist Gothic. Palgrave Macmillan, pp. 45-62.

McDonagh, M. (2010) Broken Mirrors/Broken Minds: The Dark Dreams of Dario Argento. Sun Tavern Fields.

Newman, K. (1996) ‘Witchy women: The Craft reviewed’, Empire, September, pp. 52-54.

Paul, W. (1994) Laughing, Screaming: Modern Hollywood Horror and Comedy. Columbia University Press.