When lighting strikes the lovewitch. Worshiping at the altar of the divine & the damned. To be sacrificed or to be saved, that is the principal once entering this domain.
Its not so much a film, more of an external expression on how to enhance, or obliterate, the senses within human construction.
Gorgeous neon lights to illuminate the terror; enhance the madness. As opulent as it is puncturing. Vibrant; each scene never at a stand still. Design so striking, detail so up close it transcends the screen you see it on. Big or small. To feel the pain of razor wire piercing skin, touch a part of the deliriously painted walls, or have the feeling of maggots landing on you as they fall from the ceiling. Goblin's nerve-bending, maniacal, & majestic soundtrack that shakes the viewer to the core. Blended w/the silences where sometimes the only sound available is panting & the clinks of a straight razor trying to pry open a lock. A configuration that can only be mellifluous in an Argento film.
"Bad luck isn't brought by broken mirrors, but by broken minds." How I love thee. This was late-night haphazard gushing at my most blatant. I've been largely out of focus all day, similarly being Suzy Bannion of my own reality. But I had to put some words to the defining piece of the Giallo genre. How its influence shaped horror & myself all at the same time. The opus of delirium. When a film becomes a drug, or rather, a sedative. Escapism becomes the only way to live. That's when this love truly assists me.