Tag Archives: giallo

Movie Review: Dark Glasses

Dark Glasses

Dario Argento is considered by many to be one of horror’s great directors, an icon that serves as the face of the giallo subgenre (along with Mario Bava and Lucio Fulci). What pushed the Italian director into that sphere of recognition lies in his ability to produce highly stylized horror sequences involving very intimate and gruesome murders, often at the expense of story and narrative coherence. Seldom has Argento sacrificed an elaborate kill scene, which are more often than not soaked in neon or solid reds and blues, for the sake of logic. And yet, his films carry a distinctive signature that make them unique, that make them Argento.

The director’s new movie, Dark Glasses (now streaming on Shudder), is a surprising departure from the excesses of the genre. It’s more an exercise in restraint than in self-indulgence, something that can’t easily be said about the rest of his films, and it’s one of the reasons why it succeeds so convincingly even as an example of giallo. In a way, Dark Glasses is giallo stripped of its messy storytelling bits, finely tuned to get at the things the subgenre can do well if given the chance.

Dark Glasses follows Diana (played by Ilenia Pastorelli), a highly successful escort that becomes the target of a serial killer that’s preying on sex workers. The reason for the killings is kept a mystery, as is the case in most giallos, but it does lead early on to an intense car chase where the killer slams into Diana’s vehicle and causes a violent crash, resulting in Diana losing her sight. A third car is caught up in the violence, belonging to a Chinese family. A boy is left orphaned as a result, complicating matters further for Diana. The kid, called Chin (Andrea Zhang), later decides to seek out Diana and help her as she navigates her new reality as a blind person, perhaps because he feels a connection to her given their shared experience in loss. This dynamic ends up being one of the film’s greatest strengths.

Dark Glasses

Diana and Chin make for an unusual pairing in a giallo, which leads to them being such a unique set of characters within that context. Their relationship is one of companionship and mutual protection, standing opposed to the usual lonely investigator on the trail of the killer. They very clearly need each other, one due to the loss of a crucial sense and the other due to the loss of his core family unit. This allowed Argento to build his characters, to develop a bond between them and then put it to the test in tense scenarios.

Ilenia Pastorelli’s Diana becomes one of Argento’s strongest and most imposing leading ladies thanks to this welcome focus on character development. Her performance relies heavily on her struggle to accept and understand her new condition and she leans heavily on the character’s frustrations to project that sensation on screen. It’s easy to feel her anger and desperation in the movie’s most intense sequences, especially as she fights against her condition to try and get an advantage over the killer.

Zhang also commits to his role, especially in terms of the range of emotions his character has to go through after the crash. He’s vulnerable in moments when his family is being discussed, especially his future without them, but his resourcefulness as Diana’s guide when trying to the escape the killer shines bright thanks to the all the character work Argento puts in beforehand. It’s a tender and delicate show of friendship that rarely gets the time to grow in these types of movies.

Dark Glasses

On the traditional giallo violence side of things, Argento goes for a measured touch that prioritizes quicker shots of gore over extended stays on open wounds and severed limbs. Each kill is still elegantly shot in a way that achieves the kind of macabre beauty featured in his other films, but in Dark Glasses he favors teasing the audience with the idea of brutality and cruelty rather than linger on it. Whereas in other films the violence comes off as gratuitous and sensationalized, here it carries weight while also building up the terror the killer carries with him.

Dark Glasses is the kind of Argento I’ve always wished we’d gotten more of. He crafts a memorable female character with Diana, one that avoids falling into the oversexualized and oversimplified characterizations of the past. There’s enough giallo here to please hardcore fans, too, but it’s in the twists and tweaks to the formula that the movie finds a life of its own. Argento should be commended for offering a blueprint for future forays into giallo with Dark Glasses. Goes to show, masters of horror always have a movie in their back pockets that can remind fans why they’ve earned the title.

The Stylist gives the slasher genre an overdue makeover

The Stylist
The Stylist, poster

To no one’s surprise, the slasher genre has largely been dominated by male killers, most of them with deeply seated mommy issues. Norman Bates, Jason, Leatherface (as revealed in the 2006 prequel), all take their childhood traumas and dump them on unsuspecting women that must die because they remind them of their own mothers. One woman’s failure becomes a blight on the entirety of womanhood.

Jill Gevargizian’s The Stylist isn’t unaware of this trend among slashers. It actually acknowledges it for its story’s benefit, finding in it an opportunity for subversion, for turning the table on the formula without completely disposing of it.

The Stylist presents audiences with a female killer called Claire (played by Najarra Townsend), a hair stylist that kills unsuspecting customers and removes their scalps to preserve their hair. The reasons why she does this is where the formula gets refreshingly tampered with. Claire isn’t obsessed with hair. She’s obsessed with the image people want to project with their new hair styles.

The movie takes advantage of Claire’s macabre methods to offer commentary on acute social anxiety and how the weight we put on physical appearances forces certain inflexible expectations upon people. One of Claire’s victims, for instance, makes a comment on how we always want what we can’t have as we settle into our lives, mostly by making decisions that box us into society’s idea of what we should be. This is basically the movie’s motto. We always want what we can’t have.

The Stylist

The movie develops this idea by focusing on a particular character that reaches out to Claire for her wedding hair, a thing that stresses the bride to be to the point of considering it the thing that’ll brings the whole experience together, as if the event’s success hinges on curls and extensions.

The concept of marriage, being one of the experiences people struggle with the most in terms of when to do it or even if it should be done in the first place, acts as the catalyst that puts Claire on crisis mode. It puts her face to face with a human tradition that requires having certain things she unfortunately doesn’t have: meaningful friendships.

The situation lends itself well to the metaphors at play. It helps them surface more noticeably as given how it’s commonly assumed that the person that has to shoulder the burden of making sure the wedding ends up being a resounding success is the bride, who also has the responsibility to dazzle in her dress and keep up appearances.

Claire takes all this in and struggles with her place in it, fortifying her frustrations with fitting in as a woman within that environment. In this regard, parts of the original slasher formula start seeping in. Women are still the killer’s main source of anguish, but the killings aren’t borne out of misogyny. They come from a profound frustration, and perhaps incompatibility, with the roles they’re expected to fulfill. That’s what makes the story feel so subversive as a slasher.

The Stylist

Najarra Townsend’s performance as the serial killer stylist is a definite highlight and one of the best in a year filled with strong horror performances (Robert Patric’s in What Josiah Saw comes to mind as one of the others). Claire is a very awkward character that always looks as if she’s uncomfortable in her own skin—hence her desire to become other women while wearing their scalps—and Townsend captures that in every single scene.

The film’s lighting is another high point. It has an eye-popping color palette that could’ve fooled anyone into thinking the story was going to borrow heavily from Giallo slasher movies. While there’s certainly a wink or two here and there that’ll surely leave fans of the genre satisfied, the overall tone of the story and its focus on deep character development owes more to films like Maniac (1980) and Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer (1986), in which the intention is to paint a picture of the killer in as many shades as possible.

The Stylist is an unsettling film that relishes in its ability to make audiences uncomfortable. It’s confrontational even, shoving viewers into a place where they’re forced to ask themselves if Claire’s experiences wouldn’t be enough to drive anyone to do the things she does to try and fit in. It’s stylish, smart, and quite simply unforgettable, the same things one would expect from a killer haircut.