Perhaps Dario Argento's most indulgent exploration in perverse dreamlogic. Much of "Inferno" appears formless and dull, shifting from character to character with the grogginess of an over-the-counter sleep aid, and yet I find it impossible to take my eyes off of. Moments here feel like the skeleton key for Wes Craven's original "Nightmare on Elm Street" and twenty years of puzzle-based survival-horror video games.
Suspiria’s visually darker and grander cousin adds minimal but interesting tidbits to the “Three Mothers” mythos. The images here are less flamboyant, but just as arresting, while the narrative feels more sluggish and impenetrable without a Jessica Harper-type lead to latch on to. The apartment building itself is a nightmarish, illogical, ever-shifting wonder. An unforgettable though garbled experience.
An ad hoc sequel to Suspiria, not as stylish as the real thing but stylish nonetheless. Occult practices, evil cats and more evil rats, deceitful architecture and – most importantly – innovative usage of knives and other sharp objects. Anything to keep you distracted from the background story because it truly makes no sense. But who cares when you’re in an art nouveau building with a murderous witch (or something).
"Inferno" has some fine examples for Argento's reflexive use of sound and music, e.g. the threefold appearance of Verdi's "Va, pensiero": The first time it appears during the musicology lesson at university where the camera sometimes "flies" (as reference to the text). The second time it is used during the taxi ride in Keith Emerson's instrumental rock version. And the third time it is played in the apartment ...
Like the same year's Maniac, and especially, the next year's The Beyond, Inferno is an avant-garde horror film. It's short on plot and with little story, yet the surreal nightmarish atmosphere is strung together with set-pieces that are ravishing to the senses and make the pulse race simultaneously. The neon lighting is gorgeously hellish, while the music is one of the loudest intensifying scores ever conjured.
"Ovid wrote about the fantastic terrors (and pleasures) of Transformations and that is exactly Dario’s aim in Inferno." - [Irene Miracle] When I first saw this, I hated it but now it's currently my favourite Argento film. For me, it forms the heart of The Three Mothers trilogy. I don't think it's nearly as incomprehensible as everyone says. The film is actually quite intricate with its own internal logic.
Enfadonho e limitado (novamente?) pelo azul e vermelho já anteriormente vistos no Suspiria, que amo. Uma relação com a água mantém-se. Todavia, esta narrativa emaranha-se demasiado na rede desnecessariamente complexa de episódios vazios e dilatados, expectantes por um horror brega que não chega, aos quais um leque absurdo de personagens e a música (com excepção dos vocals em latim sobre as labaredas) serve e bem.
(Generous) 7 - The dilapidated apartment building that serves as this film's setting might be Argento's most fascinating spacial and stylistic creation (and that is saying something). The film itself, however, feels like an inferior retread of "Suspiria" with an ending that borders on the inept.