(Italians are probably the most beautiful people in the world. And the scariest…)
CAST: Asia Argento, Cristian Solimeno, Adam James, Valeria Cavalli, Moran Atias, Coralina Cataldi-Tassoni, Udo Kier, Daria Nicolodi, Barbara Mautino, Franco Leo, Silvia Rubino.
DIRECTOR: Dario Argento
WARNING: SPOILERS and crazy Italians up ahead….
In 1977, the horror classic SUSPIRIA was released. It was Italian auteur Dario Argento’s first foray into supernatural horror after a string of visually-striking thrillers that led him to be branded “The Italian Hitchcock.” A visceral chiller about a German dance academy that turns out to be a witches’ coven, SUSPIRIA became a worldwide hit and launched the “Three Mothers Trilogy,” each film dealing with a cursed abode overseen by a demonic matriarch. This first installment was soon followed by INFERNO (1980), which dealt with the Second Mother hiding out in a New York apartment building and wreaking havoc there. INFERNO tried to recreate its predecessor’s fairy tale atmosphere, but went further and fractured it into a sort of dreamy, surreal puzzle. While SUSPIRIA was a linear story moving forward within some eerie parameters, INFERNO is decidedly non-linear and follows multiple protagonists in a looping and unpredictable storyline that predated THE GRUDGE films. Then, Argento decided to go back to his thriller roots, resisting the urging of fans to complete his trilogy. Finally, after nearly 30 years, MOTHER OF TEARS completes the circle. Harkening back to SUSPIRIA’s linear movement - but accelerating the pace to a brisk jog, MOTHER OF TEARS tells the story of Mater Lacrimarum, the third mother based in Rome. This third and final installment is grander in scope and is very non-European in its execution. And much more violent and disturbing than its two predecessors, which were fairly violent and disturbing to begin with (especially SUSPIRIA). That crazy Argento….
The movie wastes no time in setting up its main hook: after a creepily atmospheric opening title sequence that effectively sets the tone, we cut to a graveyard in Viterbo, Italy. There, what is surely the least competent - even by Italy’s fairly laid-back standards - construction crew south of Rome inadvertently uncovers a coffin with an urn strapped to it. In case you’re wondering what an “urn” is, it is apparently a smaller version of the coffin. And in case you’re wondering how the construction crew “inadvertently” uncovers them, they topple their tractor right into the damn hole. Anyhow, Monsignor Bruscha (Franco Leo) is summoned onto the scene, and promptly wets his pants in fear. Well, we don’t know about the pants-wetting part for certain, but the expression on his face when he sees the artifacts seem to suggest it. Firing off a letter to a curator in Rome, Monsignor Bruscha seals the urn with candlewax and sends the damned thing away, eager to be rid of it. Not gonna be that easy, Father…
At any rate, the urn arrives at the Rome Museum of Archaelogical History, where Italian hottie - and assistant curator - Giselle Mares (Coralina Cataldi-Tassoni) is contemplating opening it. Art student Sarah Mandy (Asia Argento) is also nearby to egg Giselle on. Deciding not to wait for the curator to return, and eager to prove the old adage that curiosity killed - or, at least, maimed - the cat, the women yank that bitch open to find: (1) a jewel-encrusted dagger, (2) three scary statuettes (not Oscars, thank you), and (3) a red tunic with gold-writing on it - proving that bad fashion was present in the medieval ages, too. Giselle instructs Sarah to fetch the Aramaic and Mycenaean dictionaries so they can decipher the writing on the tunic. Hopefully, it doesn’t read “Ye Old International House of Pancakes.” Because, while telling, that would also be somewhat of a letdown. At any rate, while Sarah is fetching books, Giselle makes the mistake of reading out loud the words on the red tunic. This leads to three things happening: (1) a violent monkey appears, (2) the three statuettes turn into hulking monsters, and (3) said monsters eviscerate Giselle and strangle her with her own intestines while the monkey screeches and claps. And you thought I was just fucking around when I told you this was one crazy movie. To make matters stranger, Sarah discovers the massacre and tries to escape - but only manages to do so when a disembodied female voice yells at her to “Get out now! Go!” Sensing that Sarah’s about to respond with, “Thanks a million, bitch. But the goddamn door is inexplicably locked. By the way, where are you?” the voice decides to send the locked doors flying open. Allowing Sarah to run through - and slamming them shut just in time for the pursuing monkey to smash his face like in a Looney Tunes cartoon. Which, I guess, this film is on a certain level.
Anyhow, Sarah manages to escape and call the police. As the cops interrogate her, Sarah shares her story. Given that said story involves; (1) three statuettes turning into a trio of hulking monsters, and (2) a monkey-on-crack terrorizing her, and (3) a disembodied voice throwing open locked doors and coaching her on an escape plan, who can blame the policemen for looking at her like she’s two drumsticks short of a chicken bucket? Indeed, Detective Enzo Marchi (Cristian Solimeno) should be commended for his sangfroid and graciousness in the face of what sounds like utter horseshit. Instead of, say, slapping her silly until she practically confesses to Giselle’s death and the theft of the artifacts, he simply allows the curator, Michael (Adam James), to squire Sarah away without any further interrogation of either of them. Nice to know that the famous Italian sense of urgency is present in police work, too. But we’ll forgive Enzo, because, like Sarah and Giselle, he’s smokin’ hot. In fact, everyone in this movie, is smokin’ hot. Even the damn construction crew from the opening scene. In fact, every Italian person I’ve met in my life - male, female, or in-between - Has. Been. SMOKIN’. HOT! What is it about these guys and gals that makes us all look like unwashed dishrags in comparison? Is it the olive oil? Is it their open approach to exploring their sexuality? Is the olive oil used during their open approach to exploring their sexuality? Like body lotion or lubricant. What? WHAT!? WHAT IS IT?! TELL ME BEFORE I EXPLODE!
Excuse me a moment while I take a cold shower….
Okay, I’m back. Alright, back to the movie review. Anyhow, the death of Giselle and the theft of the urn somehow unleashes an ancient evil in modern-day Rome. This leads to a tidal waves of mass suicides and street crime in the Eternal City. We get to see all manner of freak shite like…. hooligans trashing a parked car and men being stabbed viciously by women. In other words, the daily usual for the neighborhood that I grew up in is basically treated like end-of-the-world material in swanky Rome. Pussies. But I ain’t one to judge. Because these are some smokin' hot people, know what I’m sayin’? Meanwhile, witches from all over the world arrive in town to party ring-side at the Second Fall of Rome. And, apparently, all it takes to be a witch is to: (1) wear a lot of cheap eye make-up, (2) have a really bad haircuit, and (3) say “Damn it!” a lot in a growly voice. In other words, they all look like rejects from an audition for an 80’s music video. Tell me that’s not terrifying. So… while Rome is being inundated by these sub-Cyndi Lauper wannabes, Michael is busy trying to uncovers the origins of the urn. He discovers that Monsignor Bruscha has slipped into a coma, and that the urn supposedly belonged to Mater Larcrimarum (Moran Atias), a very powerful black witch who has been unleashed by its opening. And M. Lac doesn’t like nosy people. Sure enough, when Michael returns to Rome, he finds that his young son has been kidnapped by her cult. When Sarah makes the mistake of comforting him, he explodes and runs off to do his best Mel-Gibson-from-RANSOM impersonation.
Meanwhile, Sarah is left alone to figure things out. As Rome tears itself to pieces around her, she follows a trail that leads to Padre Johannes (Udo Kier) who might as well be called Yoda for all the knowledge he has concerning the Three Mothers. Unfortunately, M. Lac is at least two steps ahead of everyone, because she possesses Valeria (Barbara Mautino), Padre Johannes’s assistant, and commands her to acquaint him intimately with the business end of a meat cleaver - before committing suicide herself. Fortunately, Sarah finds another ally in Marta (Valeria Cavalli), a smokin’ hot psychic who knew Sarah’s mother - who just happened to be good witch. Huh? Never mind - just play along. Marta lets Sarah stay the night at her place because it’s not safe anywhere else. Unfortunately, Helga (Silvia Rubino ), Marta’s partner, reacts to Sarah in that special manner that all women react to potential rivals - she hisses like a Queen Cobra and has to be held back by Marta. Come on, Helga - you’re Italian. Be generous and invite her into a threesome. But, alas, Helga is not a freak and retires with Marta to the bedroom - where they promptly make sweet love. In the bedroom next door, Sarah lies curled up on the bed, with her hands over hear ears - trying to block out the sounds of sweet love. Thankfully, her misery is ended by M. Lac’s flunkies showing up and killing Helga and Marta in a way that I can only eloquently describe as fucking fucked-up. This is horrifying - even for Argento. That crazy Italian.
At any rate, Sarah finally realizes she’s on her own when she discovers that Michael has been turned by the coven, and as for his son…. Trust me. You do not want to know. I guess Dario Argento sat down at his desk when he was writing this movie and decided to dream up the most unbelievably cruel plot twists that he could scavenge. Well, he succeeded. Long story short, Michael tries to kill Sarah, but is thwarted by the ghost of Sarah’s mother - who, by the way, was the disembodied voice who helped Sarah escape after Giselle’s murder. Since then, Mrs. Mandy has been hanging around her daughter like an ectoplasmic chaperon, and helping out where she can. She performs her ultimate act of assistance by killing Michael somehow - and returning to the netherworld where she came from. Truly alone now, Sarah learns more about the legend of the Three Mothers from a Belgian dude, DeWitt (Philippe Leroy ), who basically points Sarah in the direction of Mater Lacrimarum’s lair. There, three things happen: (1) Sarah hooks up with the smokin’ hot detective Enzo, (2) Sarah and Enzo discover M. Lac in an catacomb chamber being worshipped by her subjects, and (3) it’s all fucking hilarious. Turns out that, for all her seeming viciousness, M. Lac’s strength is very dependent on that red tunic that was in the urn. Which means all Sarah has to do is rip it off her smoking’ hot bod and toss it into a flaming bowl - and M. Lac’s reign of terror is an instant memory. Which is basically what happens. Leading to the building to collapse around everyone’s ears.
The film ends with Enzo and Sarah managing to make it back to the surface, where they promptly gaze at each other and laugh like a couple of deranged - albeit, smokin’ hot - idiots. Evidently, knowing all along that they’re both just too damn sexy to die. Being Italian has its priveleges, I guess.
BUT, SERIOSLY: This movie, the third and final installment in Dario Argento’s Three Mothers trilogy, is only well-regarded by those of us who are fans of The Italian Hitchcock. And even then, not all of us. Mainstream viewers may be put off by the sometimes clunky dialogue, unbelievably cruel violence, and often awkward acting. However, the atmosphere that Argento generates is well worth it. While MOTHER OF TEARS is more kinetic and propulsive than either SUSPIRIA or INFERNO, it retains enough of those films’ eerie and downright weird ambiance to keep audiences off-kilter. With its linear storyline and increasingly imperiled and isolated heroine, MOTHER OF TEARS has more in common with SUSPIRIA then INFERNO. Having less of a European feel than the first two movies, this final episode feels very American. Normally, that would be a bad thing, but after the surreal but frustrating and ultimately unsatisfying INFERNO, the brisk pacing and steadily mounting tension of MOTHER OF TEARS makes for satisfying entertainment.
Asia Argento (Dario’s daughter) is not perfect in the lead, but she is good enough to keep us interested in her character’s plight. Cristian Solimeno is perfect and perfectly quirky as the smarter-than-he-lets-on detective - making him the most engaging Argento male lead since Liam Cunning in THE CARD PLAYER. Wish Solimeno would’ve had more scenes. Adam James, the only Englishman in the cast, delivers a sympathetic performance as the museum curator for whom every parent’s worse nightmare comes true. Valeria Cavalli turns in the film’s best performance as the warm and generous Marta, who risks her life to help Sarah - and pays for it dearly. Daria Nicolodi is a little histrionic as the ghost of Sarah’s mother, but that’s the Italian in her, I guess. Finally, Moran Atias as Mater Lacrimarum is fine in a performance that relies more on nudity than anything else. Then again, Mater Lacrimarum is supposed to be the most beautiful of The Three Mothers.
All in all, MOTHER OF TEARS is not as good as SUSPIRIA, but is ultimately better than INFERNO because it doesn’t leave you hanging. In time, I believe that Argento fans - and mainstream audiences - will come to appreciate this underrated entry into The Italian Hitchcock’s canon. It’s not perfect, but it gives us a likable heroine we can root for, a twisting and mythology-rich storyline, a colorful supporting cast, some nasty scares, a truly ominous atmosphere, a brilliant gothic score, and a genuine feeling that bad things can happen to any of them at any second - and usually do.
