Fairy Tale Gone Nightmare: The Story Book Colors of Dario Argento

As Susie Bannion steps off the plane in Germany, vivid neon colors give the first inkling that something here is not quite right. A whimsical sting of music and the blustering wind elevates the moment. The film, Suspiria, is full of such colors. Director Dario Argento had originally planned for the film to follow children at this strange, haunted boarding school, but his producer (and father) Salvatore Argento refused to shoot a horror film with pre-teen main characters. Thus, the characters’ ages were modified to be in their twenties. While the women in this film are undoubtedly adults, the cinematography still feels as though it is being seen through the eyes of a child, done through vivid, fairy-tale colors, rooms that feel just a little too big in relation to the inhabitants, and dialogue that occasionally feels more like school-yard taunts. In the rare scenes outside of the academy, such as when Suzy meets with her classmate’s psychiatrist, everything is dull and gray. The removal from the eerie magic is signified by a jarringly neutral color palette, strengthening our visual relationship with the magical themes of the film

Argento is regarded as one of the founding fathers of giallo. ‘Giallo’ literally translates to “yellow”, a name derived from the yellow covers of thriller and crime novels published in Italy. The giallo film genre, which primarily refers to murder mysteries and horror-thrillers, would reach peak popularity in the 1970s, and come to influence and be roughly equivalent to the American ‘slasher’ subgenre. Horror films to me (and presumably other people), are usually colored as dark as their subject matter, and have been since the 1990s. With few exceptions, such as 2019’s Midsommar, a gory nightmare that takes place almost exclusively in the bright light of day, this dullness has been more or less standard for the past few decades. Having always conceived horror in that way, the use of color in the “golden age” of horror movies – the 70s and 80s – really sets these films apart, especially those that were coming out of Europe at the time, and feels like such a wonderful surprise. 

In Argento’s Tenebre, stylish Italian apartments become fantastical grottoes, fashion models dressed all in white, with sultry red shoes kill their attackers, and blood is poppy-red. One of the most interesting moments in this film, color-wise, occurs toward the very beginning. In rather Wes Anderson-ian fashion, our main character rides his bicycle down the highway against a background of gray and brown automobiles. The character, Peter Neal, stands out vividly in a cerulean jumpsuit. It’s quirky without trying to be, weird and unaddressed in that way that only early 80s horror movies do.

1985’s Phenomena is not as brightly colored as the other two films I have explored, but it is still vividly colored. Cinematographer Romano Albani pays great attention to the lush greens of grass and trees in the Swiss Alps, which he contrasts with the strange, backlit interiors of abandoned houses, creepy tunnels, and haunted attics, where the sun comes through the windows as though it were moonlight.

What is the purpose of this? I think that in addition to being beautiful, the use of bright or striking colors is able to heighten emotions. In the 1974 film, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, the red of Pam’s shorts, the green of Sally's terrified eyes, and the yellow of the rising sun – signaling the transformation from day to night to day again – raise the stakes and make the fear real. This is accomplished through the use of colors and details that bring the filmmaking to the point of hyperrealism, or in some cases even surpassing it, so that fantasy and reality are confused. The story-book colors of Argento’s haunting fairy stories reduce adult viewers to children. We are scared and vulnerable, we are in awe. We are Hansel and Gretel, helplessly going to the witch’s cottage (boarding school, dance academy, apartment complex, etc). It’s strange, real life dialed up to eleven. We now inhabit a world different from our own, where the supernatural (and the ridiculous) is unquestionably possible.