OPERA

OPERA is one of Argento's most beloved giallo films, a gorgeously shot and well-acted shockfest that unfortunately suffers from an overly typical narrative. Co-written with PHENOMENA scribe Franco Ferrini, OPERA trips over it's own two feet quite a many times during its 107 minute running time, but logical lapses and poor characterization do nothing to distract the viewer from its stunning beauty. This is one of Argento's most beautiful films, photographed with precision and skill by Ronnie Taylor.


Betty gives her report in Opera.

It's a shame that the screenplay doesn't support the weight of the production as this could have been so much more. Gorgeous locations - including the majestic Teatro Regio Opera House in Parma - and exquisite costumes, not to mention a bold, sweeping opera score, all help give this film a very big budget feel. But there are too many gaps and holes in the screenplay that become all the more apparent when the eye candy loses its gloss.


The story is largely non-existent. Betty, an understudy, finally gets her chance to shine when the actress playing Lady Macbeth in a new production of Verdi's opera is hit by a car. Even though she is nervous and unsure of herself, her first performance goes incredibly well. But her big break brings with it unforeseen dangers. Someone has taken quite the shine to our leading lady and he has a strange way of showing his devotion. While spending the night with her boyfriend, a stagehand on the production, Betty is attacked. Bound with rope, a row of needles taped below her open eyes, she is forced to watch as her boyfriend is brutally murdered. He won't be the last to die as Argento stretches his threadbare story to the breaking point.


OPERA is virtually plotless, held together by simple exposition scenes and little else. But what matters here is the imagery, something OPERA is full of. From the lovingly composed, dramatic sweeps of the opera house to the shocking close-ups of unblinking eyes, this is prime Argento. It's signature shot of a row of needles resting close to Betty's darting eyes is one of the most visceral and shocking images in all of Argento's oeuvre. Though the framing of some of these captive scenes is a bit clumsy - in several shots, we can clearly see that Betty would suffer no harm in closing her eyes - the thought of those needles slipping effortlessly through her eyelids is certainly cringe-inducing. In fact, her torture, psychological and emotional, is much worse than the murders that are being committed right in front of her.


Stefano bites the big one in Opera.

Or at least, I think it is. I can't be too sure as Betty doesn't seem all that bothered by it. After her boyfriend's murder, Betty phones the police to report the murder but doesn't stick around to offer a report. She runs away from the scene. After she is forced to witness the murder of another friend, she does the same thing, avoiding the police even though she feels her life is in danger. She says at one point that she didn't speak to the police in hopes that she could 'put it out of my mind'. Ridiculous. The one person she does confide in is her director, Mark, who fills the role of Helper in the film. In the giallo, the amateur detective often has a sole confidant. Usually the Helper won't survive very long after their involvement begins, their murder being the final act of violence by the killer and the last straw for the frustrated and frightened amateur detective. Earlier in the film, the killer destroyed Betty's costume and was accosted in the process by several of the live ravens that are being used in the show. The killer struck several of them down and Mark plans on using them to identify the killer as ravens apparently 'never forget' their aggressors. During a performance, Mark lets the ravens loose and Argento's camera goes with them, soaring above the audience, circling and spiraling down until finally laying siege to the killer. Their first target? The eyes.


While essentially a carry-over from PHENOMENA, this does remain one of the few times where someone other than the amateur detective or helper discovers the identity of the killer. In fact, given the identity of the killer, chances are they would have never figured it out. After the killer is identified, partially blinded, and has fired a few shots at our heroine, yet another strange lapse in logic occurs. Betty simply walks off and sits in her dressing room. Naturally, our killer emerges and takes her captive. Not for his usual performance, though. Tied to a chair and blindfolded, he places a gun in her hand, douses the room in gasoline and lights a match. He wants her to shoot him. If you've read Thomas Harris' novel Red Dragon - or seen the movie - you already know the last ten minutes of the film.


Except with some bizarre and unexplainable flower picking and nature lovin' thrown in.

Betty takes in a show in Opera.

Several key scenes from other Argento films find a reprise in OPERA. The slow-motion gun shot from FOUR FLIES ON GREY VELVET is used to head-splitting effect, the creepy crawlspace from INFERNO turns up, as well a gold chain from DEEP RED. The issue of childhood trauma is brought up again, only this time the bizarre flashbacks don't quite belong to the killer. While the plot is just another standard giallo tale, the sheer force of the imagery should be enough to keep most interested through the running time.


Narrative aside, the biggest problem with OPERA lies in its scoring. Like PHENOMENA, OPERA features loud, pounding heavy metal music over its murder scenes. While a lovely aria would have provided a much more chilling counterpoint to the films graphic violence, Argento opts for incessant noise. Distracting and tactless, it only serves to break the mood of the scene completely. No matter whether or not you count yourself a fan of heavy metal music, it's about as right for the scene as a nursery rhyme.