(This is my attempt at a spoiler-free review of TENEBRE. So many articles I have read give away crucial plot points in order to create a meaningful analysis, but I hope to turn people on to this grisly little gem in as streamlined a manner as possible. If my comments seem to strain, I'm sorry.)

Filmmaker Dario Argento met a bit of a backlash in his native Italy after moving away from the giallo genre which he specialized in during the 1970s (The Bird with the Crystal Plumage, The Cat o' Nine Tails and Deep Red). In 1977, Dario fashioned what many consider his best film, the stylish and shocking supernatural story Suspiria, the first in the proposed trilogy of the "Three Mothers." After completing the middle film, Inferno, by 1980, Argento found himself facing accusations and distribution problems, and it says something that director could only get the third installment off the ground just recently. As I type this review, Mother of Tears has been screened in limited release, capping off a trilogy nearly 28 years after Inferno.

Dario Argento said that the follow-up to Inferno, TENEBRE, was inspired by an incident he had with an obsessed fan who periodically phoned him and finally declared his desire to kill Dario (see Mike Bracken's classic review for specifics, but also keep in mind Maitland McDonough's 1994 book Broken Mirrors/Broken Minds for further analysis). In the featurette "Voices of the Unsane," the sole substantial extra added to Anchor Bay Entertainment's reissue of the 1982 Argento effort, actress Daria Nicolodi (Dario's ex and mother of Asia) recalls certain complaints voiced by longtime fans of the director who felt he betrayed himself ("Why, maestro, did you abandon your chosen genre of murder?"). The inspiration was so overwhelming, Dario isolated himself in a small residence and didn't leave for three months so as to perfect his latest story.

I came to TENEBRE (Italian for "darkness") a little late, as I'd already seen some of Argento's more "fantastical" flicks like Suspiria and Phenomena. Anything that was on the shelves of the local Video Update was ripe for the picking, so to say. And that was sadly limiting, because the only way I knew Argento's work in the gialli was via the man's first American production, 1993's Trauma, which was greeted with a more universal sense of disappointment. I will revisit that film in time, but it is important to note that critical reception amongst fans of the director for Trauma were lukewarm at best, and at worst, declaring this comparable with subpar Brian De Palma films, intriguing since these two are the ultimate rivals to the throne of modern-day Hitchock revivalist.

And so I was misinformed for a spell, because I could only watch Trauma as a reference point. In America, TENEBRE was released in a typical scissor job act of butchery by distribution company Bedford Entertainment under the moniker "Unsane." Besides the slap in the face that was the omission of ten minutes of footage that included mostly all of the original film's violent set pieces as well as dialogue, it stayed on the shelf for a matter of years. I suppose that in the UK, it was a much better deal, because they only excised about five seconds of splatter. But even in that country it was met with resistance by the infamous "Video Nasties" morality squad. They banned the video release of that film for about 15 years. Anchor Bay Entertainment, in their loving exploits to properly release faithful editions of international and American cult films, presented a director-approved uncut edition of TENEBRE on DVD in 1999.

A passage read from the fictional novel of the title establishes the first of many verbal clues that loom over the story at large:

"The impulse had become irresistible. There was only one answer to the fury that tortured him. And so he committed his first act of murder. He had broken the most deep-rooted taboo and found not guilt or fear, but freedom. Every humiliation which stood in his way could be swept aside by this simple act of annihilation: Murder."

Taking this in mind, every character in Argento's film has a motive. But the central protagonist is the writer of said novel, American author Peter Neal (Anthony Franciosa), who is on the plane to Rome as the killer makes his/her first strike. At first, we follow the killer spying on a gorgeous Italian woman, Elsa Manni (Ania Pieroni) in a bookstore, the subject of our gaze, the killer's and various other passersby, including a strange man outside and the dirty derelict who assaults on her the way home. The shoplifting hottie attempts to shoplift a copy of Neal's novel, and as we look at her in secrecy from the unseen maniac's POV, we see the store owner swoop out from the scene and discover her, although she eventually seduces the man into letting her go by attacking him sexually through verbs the way the homeless pervert does physically. Elsa makes it back home, but she is essentially isolated despite the presence a neighbor outside. The bum watches on as the killer springs into action with a straight razor and a copy of Tenebre, whose pages are methodically crammed into her mouth.

The motive of the murderer is revealed to be a self-righteous literalization of the perceived subtext of Neal's Tenebre. The killer taunts Mr. Neal and Detective Germani (Giuliano Gemma), whose own love of murder mystery fiction turns out to be an asset and a potential source of incrimination, by declaring his intent to rid society of deviants and perverts. Neal seems to be a stand-in for Argento, especially in an early scene where a long-time acquaintance, lesbian reporter Tilde (Mirella D'Angelo), chides the author for being sexist. Although Neal/Argento sidestep this argument all too conveniently, Neal being rescued by businessman referee/agent Bullmer (John Saxon) and Argento clinging to his argument that he'd rather film women in peril, the director seems to shoot these sequences with less apparent misogyny and even an instance of restraint (a prostitute's murder is off screen). As is the case with Hitchcock, Argento has a strong sense of craft and thoughtfulness that goes a long way when compared to most slasher films, where the spectacle of women being stabbed is all there is to watch.

TENEBRE finds further moral ambiguities throughout the interactions between Peter Neal and various other Italians, from overzealous book critic Christiano Berti (John Steiner), personal assistant Anne (Daria Nicolodi) and youthful servant Gianni (Christian Borromeo). But to describe these in detail would be to ruin the fun of TENEBRE, which is a film full of information and spectacle. Peter Neal finds himself anxious to do his own detective work akin to Sherlock Holmes, whose author is name-dropped during a discussion with Detective Germani about The Hound of the Baskervilles. A line from that book also serves to stimulate the viewer's own inquiring mind.

Just when the mystery seems to be solved, hints and allegations from before start to boil over into a whole new string of murders, and the viewer is caught off guard and forced to question events hinted at before. A series of tormented nightmares in the mind of a shadowy man taking prescriptive pills (spaced out to look kind of like eyes) are especially vital, for they involve humiliation at the hands of a voluptuous woman on a beach, played by real-life transsexual Eva Robins in a pair of red shoes. The shoes are eventually sent as a gift to Peter's ex-girlfriend Jane (Veronica Lario, wife of Italian prime minister Silvio Berlusconi), who tearfully confides her feelings of bipolarity to Anne at one point in the film.

Argento's mystery is one fraught with the typically phantasmagorical stylishness and beautifully grisly murder scenes that the director pulls off with panache. One of the movie's most immortal sequences involves the dismemberment of a pivotal suspect's arm that sprays red onto a glowing white wall. Red and white figure a lot into the stylistic flourishes in the film, with most of the characters wearing bright clothes and most of the scenery lit very vividly. Even during the nighttime sequences, there's a lot of light present to eliminate any sort of shadows for the characters to hide in. Still, the killer is one step ahead of his detectives, be them his characters or us. Those who know too little or too much face certain death just the same. And if you liked Suspiria, there's another vicious Doberman attack scene, albeit one that advances the mystery by leading to the killer's hideout.

The formal elements are typically florid, with Argento and cinematographer Luciano Tovoli creating a distinct visual style around a decidedly non-picturesque Roman setting replete with brilliant camera movements and close-ups that actually convey something instead of merely just being showy. Much has been made of the immortal double murder scene involving Tilde, who is in fact a lesbian who lives with bisexual tart Maria (Lara Wendel). In one smooth, virtuoso crane shot, the camera pans up the windows on one side of the building, across the roof of the house and down the other side, which is where the killer finally breaks in through the shuttered window.

The uncut version is already edited with economy by Franco Fraticelli. It's a testament to him and Argento that one particular jump scare involving shattered glass managed to make me budge from my seat twice.

And the musical score is credited to Claudio Simonetti, Fabio Pignatelli and Massimo Morante, three of the members of Argento movie staples Goblin. Working with a drum machine, they fashion an edgy, ominous synth-disco score that reminded me of early-1980s Gary Numan and The Thompson Twins in spots, but sounds just as natural and effective against the background of the film as the often percussive, always jarring arrangements of previous films. Although Simonetti worked on Pheomena and Opera with solo compositions, the use of heavy metal music has dated these films in an arguably worse manner than the of-the-1980s elements offered in TENEBRE.

TENEBRE is ultimately a slasher film, but one that has a lot more ideas, insanity and intensity than almost any hack effort (pun intended) of the decade. The treatment of sexuality is definitely much more substantial than the emptily puritanical motivations that characterized Friday the 13th and its myriad imitators (TENEBRE is also a movie that has been imitated, including a scene in De Palma's Raising Cain). I can't give it a full masterpiece grade because of some obviously strained plot elements (yes, there is a linear if dense plot, an element Dario has no affection for but is evident nonetheless) involving alibis and certain characteristics, particularly during the stakeout sequence involving Peter Neal and Gianni, a scene which thankfully featured that aforementioned jumper. It takes a sober, more critical view to notice flaws like these or the fact that the relationship between Peter and Anne is devoid of any chemistry (see also Lucio Fulci's Zombie, where characters with the exact same names had the exact same problem).

Even then, though, I was pleasantly surprised with this film, especially the deceptively simple performances by Tony Franciosa and John Saxon, who looks especially giddy at times when handed a black hat. Clumsy ADR threatens to ruin a couple of performances, particularly that of Daria Nicolodi (Theresa Russell supposedly dubbed in English dialogue), but even Giuliano Gemma and Carola Stagnaro as the inspectors are afforded personality and are not the standard issue oblivious detectives I feared to see, although Stagnaro's detective plays right into this film's discourse on celebrity by coveting an autograph from Tuscan heartthrob Yves Montand.

I can't get into TENEBRE too much without depriving you of the surprises Argento offers throughout this film, as captivating and pulpy a giallo as you'd hope to see. Put short, I would love to read a novelization of this one. Anchor Bay have reissued TENEBRE in a now anamorphic widescreen transfer in the original 1.85:1 aspect ratio. There are noticeable print defects and transfer flaws such as video noise and the usual edge enhancement, but the whited-out visual quality probably needed a bit of fine-tuning, as the garishly bright image often felt overtly florescent (I reached for a pair of sunglasses out of fear). Sharpness suffers as a result, as the image often lacked a lot of detail and often exposed the color palette for the aged flatness it's been presented with. It's not to say that image is unmanageable, as the colors are often crystal and saturated finely, with deep reds and solid blues and even some fine levels of blackness and shadow. Flesh tones veered between natural and pale. But I was more satisfied with the faulty but more impressive transfer on the Phemomena DVD.

There are no subtitles to go with the three primary audio options available: English Dolby Digital 5.1, English Dolby Digital 2.0 and Italian mono. The surround mix on the 5.1 track does a good job with ambiance during the murder sequences as well as general directional effects involving cars and planes, but the beefed-up music can sound louder than the dialogue. The rear channels virtually echo the three Goblin members' score perhaps over-extravagantly, but I guess that is both beneficial for immersion and detrimental for the lack of a more solid mix. Speech itself poses a problem on both English tracks, with a prevalent flatness and noticeable edge during some instances, but the 2.0 Stereo Surround option sounds more restrained and has as much presence. Oddly enough, the Italian mono is actually a finer aural experience than either (it sure sounds less cheesy), although you need a closed-captioned TV for English translation. At least you get to hear Daria Nicolodi's natural voice and even Signor Argento himself reading the opening passage.

The previous DVD included audio commentary from Dario Argento and Claudio Simonetti, with moderation by journalist Loris Curci. Argento's limited forays into commentary seem fairly awkward at best, indecipherable at worst, and he understandably decided to abandon the process. Thankfully, Argento has been courteous enough to do on-camera interviews in his native Italian to speak openly about his films. However, no matter how hard Curci tries (often times firing off general questions such as "What do you think of the dubbing? This film in particular"), Argento seems to keep quiet and preserve the fictional element of his film. I was amazed by how lighthearted Argento could be at times: he references Pink Floyd with a chuckle, cites Snow White as a favorite film and feels refreshingly positive about the production almost 16 years later. Again, this may be to take the edge off of the difficult nature of the director having to articulate his thoughts in a different language. Argento does talk openly about the unfortunate censorship and editing issues his films have faced from studios (he calls such distributors "idiots" and "masochists"), with Curci providing some knowledge on bits that were cut for the American release. Simonetti speaks more fluent English and provides insight into the fractured collaborative process of Goblin and Argento as well as specifics about the type of mixes used in the film vs. the ones on soundtrack album. Because there is one less participant than on the similar track for Phenomena, I found this a much smoother ride if just as problematic. I still found it worth a listen or two, but do watch it after viewing the film proper.

The only real addition to this set in terms of extras is the aforementioned "Voices of the Unsane" (17:12), which offers new interviews with Argento, Nicolodi, Simonetti, Luciano Tovoli, Lamberto Bava (an assistant director for this film alongside Michele Soavi), and Eva Robins. Nicolodi has been accused of not being honest in some of her prior interviews, but I would like to think that maybe she's been faced with the wrong type of journalist. Here, the actress is blunt and honest about her disappointment having to make the transition from starring in a theatrical production of Sartre's No Exit to appearing as a "stiff" character in Argento's film. And she also has an anecdote about Dario's objection to the chaste manner in which she and Mr. Franciosa kissed. Argento also talks a lot more in detail about the Aztec-styled sacrifices of his murders, Tovoli expresses great pride in the hyper-illuminated night scenes and Robins, who was discovered by Signor Bava, recalls Argento's attitude in describing her character as well as the genuine nude beach setting.

The rest of the bonuses are fairly brief and of vintage substance. "The Roving Camera Eye of Dario Argento" (4:24) and "Creating the Sounds of Terror" (2:05) are segments from a longer documentary from which bits and pieces were plucked for several Argento DVD releases. For the former, Argento elaborates on the nature of his camera work (in dubbed English), calling it an acrobatic performer of sorts in service of the story. We get a very brief look behind the scenes of the infamous Louma crane panning around Tilde's house, but the featurette concludes with the actual clip from the movie. The latter takes us into the room where they record the foley SFX with examples of achieved creaking feet and blade effects. The theatrical trailer is provided as are those alternate end credits featuring Kim Wilde's song "Take Me Tonight" in place of the theme to Tenebre. All of these features have been enhanced for widescreen TVs as well. Lastly, you get the typical Dario Argento biography. The disc opens with trailers for The Girl Next Door, Masters of Horror Presents: Pelts and Phenomena.

Movie grade: 4.5 stars.
Video grade: 3 stars.
Audio grade: 3.5 stars.
Extras grade: 4 stars.
Final grade: 4 stars. TENEBRE is an engrossing, lurid murder mystery that may be one of Dario Argento's most deftly, densely suspenseful movies. Even more intriguingly, it's a surprisingly meta discourse on celebrity and . It comes with a high recommendation already because it's such a thrilling murder mystery, but even more so for fans both familiar and new of Italian cinema or the works of Argento in particular. Shame the audio/video presentation isn't up to par with the film's grade or the content of the extras, but I still say see it. But those who owned the previous DVD might face the same dilemma I did when Anchor Bay reissued Phenomena.

TENEBRE, a Sigma Cinematografica Roma production, premiered in Italy on October 28, 1982. It didn't open in America until February 1987 when Bedford Entertainment released a heavily edited version known as "Unsane." The original uncut version has no rating, but plenty of strong gory violence and sexual content. This version lasts 101 minutes.

Recommended:
Yes

Viewing Format: DVD
Video Occasion: Fit for Friday Evening
Suitability For Children: Not suitable for Children of any age