Opera (1987) ***1/2
Dario Argento's Opera (1987) is one bizarre giallo. The film is mind-bogglingly scattershot, both tonally and editorially (even more so than 1985's Phenomena (reviews here, here, here, and here)—with so many disparate elements and influences—to the point of being comical. Some also complain about the seemingly random placement of heavy metal cues during murder scenes, but that's one aspect that's never bothered me (in fact I love those moments).
It's frustrating because, while Opera doesn't make a lot of sense and drags in spots, it also contains some of Argento's most riveting and audacious cinematography and most inventive set pieces (the peephole kill in particular is a highlight of Argento's entire career). The movie is a bit like a fever dream, a glorious (operatic, even) mess, and for that I can't help but appreciate it.
It's frustrating because, while Opera doesn't make a lot of sense and drags in spots, it also contains some of Argento's most riveting and audacious cinematography and most inventive set pieces (the peephole kill in particular is a highlight of Argento's entire career). The movie is a bit like a fever dream, a glorious (operatic, even) mess, and for that I can't help but appreciate it.
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