Suspiria (2018) Explained: Witchcraft, Dance, and Post-WWII Germany
Suspiria (2018) is a haunting exploration of power, control, and the horrors of fascism, set against the backdrop of Cold War-era Berlin in 1977. Gabe discusses the differences in the two films, unpacks the themes of facism and guilt, as well as defines the three mothers and their role in Argento's world. Kat gives us a history lesson to understand the setting of this Suspiria and the motivation for the coven, dancers, and the psychologist.
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Suspiria (2018)
A darkness swirls at the center of a world-renowned dance company, one that will engulf the artistic director, an ambitious young dancer, and a grieving psychotherapist. Some will succumb to the nightmare. Others will finally wake up.
Directed by Luca Guadagnino
Suspiria: Not Your Mother's Suspiriorum
by gabe castro
RED: Quotes, someone else's words.
Synopsis
Suspiria (2018) is a haunting exploration of power, control, and the horrors of fascism, set against the backdrop of Cold War-era Berlin in 1977. The film follows Susie Bannion (Dakota Johnson), a talented American dancer who joins the mysterious Markos Dance Academy, led by the enigmatic Madame Blanc (Tilda Swinton) after escaping her over-religious family in the states. As Susie rises within the company, she uncovers the dark secrets of the academy, including the disappearance of fellow dancer Patricia and the coven of witches that controls it. Madame Blanc is trying to gain control of the cult, wrenching that control from sickly leader Mother Markos. Meanwhile, Dr. Klemperer (also Swinton), Patricia's former psychotherapist, investigates the sinister happenings, revealing connections to his own traumatic past. As Susie becomes entwined in a dark ritual aimed at transferring the soul of the coven's matriarch, Helena Markos, into her body, the stage is set for a violent climax that challenges the witches' plans and reveals Susie’s true power.
A Tale of Two Suspirias
The recent Suspiria is notorious for its intense, disturbing imagery that plunges into the dark power dynamics of Cold War-era Germany. While Argento's original is a vibrant Giallo masterpiece bursting with surreal reds and a sensory nightmarish overload enhanced by Goblin's aggressive soundtrack, Guadagnino’s reimagining takes a darker, more muted approach, grounding the story in a moody, oppressive reality. Here, violence isn’t glamorized; instead, it’s haunting and raw, accompanied by Thom Yorke’s (Radiohead) melancholic score, which amplifies the film’s serious and gruesome tone.
In Argento's version, dance serves as an atmospheric backdrop to the vibrant, secretive world of witchcraft, but Guadagnino flips this, making the dance school’s eerie secrets a vehicle for exploring themes of guilt, trauma, and the lingering shadows of fascism through the overtly powerful coven. In his vision, dance becomes a powerful expression of control, linking the witches and their followers to a broader narrative about feminine authority and chaos, transforming choreography into a chilling manifestation of power.
Fascism, Historical Trauma and Guilt
Set in Cold War-era Berlin in 1977, the backdrop of political unrest and terror is significant. The film reflects on the lingering trauma of WWII and the Holocaust, with the school of dance standing as a microcosm for Germany’s struggles with its dark history. In an incredible article on Bad Critic titled The Rotten Wombs of Suspiria, they explain that, ”Like the coven, the city of Berlin is divided. Many young people are demanding retribution for the WWII crimes of their elders, and as the Cold War rages on, a series of political assassinations and kidnappings has thrown most of the city into chaos.”
Several characters, such as Dr. Klemperer, embody the theme of guilt—specifically relating to their past in Nazi Germany and the atrocities of the Holocaust. The search for redemption or resolution to this guilt is juxtaposed with the witches' pursuit of eternal power. ”All of these characters are struggling to survive. They all have generational trauma, and they all feel righteous in their pursuit of power.”
For example, Madame Blanc, who at first is revered in the company. Mia Goth’s character Sarah gushes over her telling Susie that she is “incredible. The way she transmits her work, her energy. When it shines on you, it’s addictive. She kept the company alive through the war… when the Reich just wanted women to shut off their minds and keep their uteruses open.” However, this admiration carries a dark undertone, as we never learn the lengths she went to for this survival—what compromises or allegiances she may have made. While she presents herself as an empathetic mentor, Blanc's true agenda is manipulative, promoting empowerment while secretly orchestrating the sacrifice of her young, impressionable students. Her words are steeped in manipulation, focused solely on preserving her coven rather than the autonomy or well-being of her dancers.
The article continues this theme of veiled corruption saying, “The witches justify their loyalty to Markos because she claims to be the reincarnation of their deity, Mother Suspiriorum. They talk of openings and rebirth, but they are only interested in maintaining the structures that already exist.” In the end Susie, who has been prepared by the coven for a sacrificial role, shocks everyone by revealing her true identity as the formidable Mother Suspiriorum. Unbeknownst to Markos and her followers, they have unwittingly unleashed a power beyond their wildest dreams. Transformed into Suspiriorum, Susie confronts Markos, executing her for her heresy, and exacts brutal retribution on those who chose to follow Markos over Blanc, resulting in a gruesome aftermath.
Markos and Blanc mirror the fascist propaganda that deeply affected generations of German women. The coven, having survived WWII, endured a regime that pressured women to bear children, viewing childlessness as a moral failing. Although the Nazi government had fallen by 1977, their twisted ideals of motherhood still lingered within the coven’s practices.
Not Your Mother’s Satanic Panic
In Suspiria, the eerie world crafted from Dario Argento's Three Mothers trilogy (Suspiria, Inferno, and Mother of Tears) introduces us to the Three Mothers—Mother Suspiriorum, Mother Tenebrarum, and Mother Lachrymarum. These ancient supernatural forces are anything but nurturing; instead, they turn the concept of motherhood on its head, transforming it into a nightmarish spectacle of manipulation and control.
The film is filled with these terrible mothers, with the coven serving as the most glaring example alongside Susie’s religious mother in the states. These witches have endured an oppressive system that sought to control their bodies, and this experience fuels their justification for doing the same to their students. Again, working to uphold those systems of power so they can be the ones wielding it.
In Suspiria, these captivating yet terrifying figures symbolize not just witches but the very essence of destruction, showcasing the dangerous duality of power that lurks beneath the surface of creation.
Mother Suspiriorum (The Mother of Sighs): Mother Suspiriorum represents the crushing weight of sorrow, despair, and the darker side of the human condition. As the oldest and most powerful of the Three Mothers, she looms over everything like an inescapable shadow. In Suspiria, she takes the form of Helena Markos, the coven’s twisted leader, who feeds off the grief and despair of others, bending them to her will. Her presence is suffocating, embodying the heavy, inescapable sorrow that hangs over the characters—especially in the film’s backdrop of historical trauma, from the horrors of WWII to the tensions of the Cold War. She's not just a witch; she's sorrow personified, a force that weighs down everything in her path.
Mother Tenebrarum (Mother of Darkness): Mother Tenebrarum is the embodiment of fear, ignorance, and the unknown. Though she doesn’t make an appearance in Guadagnino’s Suspiria, her influence is deeply felt through the trilogy's lore. She represents darkness in every sense—literal and metaphorical—tapping into the primal terror that comes from not knowing what’s lurking in the shadows. Her power is rooted in the fear of the unseen and the psychological horrors that come with repression and ignorance. This atmosphere of dread is woven into the film, as the dance academy becomes an oppressive, suffocating place where the dancers remain blissfully unaware of the true, sinister forces pulling the strings behind the scenes. Mother Tenebrarum is that creeping fear, always hiding just out of sight, waiting to be uncovered.
Mother Lachrymarum (Mother of Tears): Mother Lachrymarum embodies suffering, emotional pain, and chaos. As the youngest of the Three Mothers, she is intricately tied to the raw anguish that comes from tears and heartbreak. Wherever she goes, chaos follows, symbolizing the tumultuous nature of grief and the fragility of social order. Though her role is more prominent in the third film of Argento’s trilogy, her shadow looms large in Suspiria (2018), where her influence resonates through the film’s exploration of collective suffering—both personal and historical. She represents the uncontrollable tides of despair, reminding us that pain can tear apart not just individuals, but entire communities. With her presence, the chaos of emotion is palpable, creating a haunting backdrop of turmoil and tragedy that permeates the narrative.
Suspiria is a slow-burn journey into the tangled web of power, trauma, and identity, exploring the complex dynamics of feminine power as both a comforting embrace and a lethal grip. With the chilling influence of the Three Mothers, the film unveils the hidden secrets of its characters’ collective suffering. The dance sequences are electrifying, serving as thrilling expressions of control that blur the lines between art and manipulation. Guadagnino’s Suspiria plunges into the exhilarating duality of creation and destruction, revealing how grief, guilt, and the haunting echoes of the past shape our identities in a chaotic world filled with existential dread.
Before Suspiria: The Dark Legacy of WWII and Nazi Ideology in Cold War Berlin
by Kat Kushin
RED: Quotes, someone else's words.
Today, in my section we will be delving into the chilling legacy of the Nazi era and its enduring influence on popular culture. Our focus: the horror film Suspiria and its disturbing connections to the darkest chapters of German history. A shout out to three articles where I got much of my information - The Rotten Wombs of Suspiria by Bad Critic, Selling Motherhood: The Nazi Attempt to Increase the Master Race by the US Holocaust Museum, and finally ‘Suspiria’: A German History Primer for the Confused Suspiria Viewer by Nate Jones from Vulture. You’ll be able to see the full list of sources, supplemental readings etc in our sources section on our blog.
Part 1 - World War II - Before Suspiria:
To fully appreciate the depths of Suspiria, we must first understand the historical context that shaped its narrative. The Nazi era left a deep scar on Germany, one that continues to reverberate today. The film's setting, West Berlin, is a stark reminder of the Cold War tensions and the lingering effects of the Berlin Wall. But beneath the surface lies a more sinister connection: the enduring influence of Nazi ideology. As we see in America, oppression, the isms and hatred are not an individual problem, but a systemic one. You can remove the head but a new one will grow back. In college I did a lot of research on World War II and how Germany transformed nationally from the previously somewhat progressive Weimar Republic into Nazi Germany. World War I has A LOT to do with this, but we do not have time to get into that. But, there were many social shifts that took place, specifically with nationalism and identity, wanting to reclaim pride in being German that was lost after World War I, which transformed into the genocidal motivator for World War II.
One of the most disturbing aspects of the Nazi regime was its systematic abuse of children. In the article The Rotten Wombs of Suspiria from Bad Critic they discuss the harmful legacy of Johanna Haarer, a Nazi-era childcare expert whose abusive teachings were designed to break the bond between children and parents, fostering a generation of emotionally detached and unempathetic individuals. Haarer's methods, which included isolating babies and discouraging any form of affection, led to severe attachment disorders and generational trauma. Thinking to parallels happening in the US with parents leaving babies to self-soothe which is theorized to be one of the main causes for the increase in serial killers and what led to many of the anxieties of Satanic Panic.
The text then draws a parallel to the film "Suspiria," where the witches of the Markos Dance Academy exhibit similar abusive behaviors. The coven, having survived an oppressive system, justifies their manipulation and control over their students. Markos, the coven leader, demands absolute loyalty and seeks to erase her subjects' identities, mirroring Haarer's teachings. As Markos clings to power, she becomes increasingly unstable and violent, leading to inevitable rebellion. The film portrays this cycle of abuse and the resulting generational trauma, emphasizing the corrupting influence of power and the perpetuation of violence.
Another chilling aspect of Nazi ideology was its obsession with racial purity. A kind of dystopian manifestation of this was to push women out of universities and society, as well as prevent LGBTQIA individuals from being their authentic selves and instead being baby-makers. In the article Selling Motherhood: The Nazi Attempt to Increase the Master Race from the US Holocaust Museum, they explore the Lebensborn program, a Nazi initiative aimed at promoting the birth of "racially valuable" Aryan children to create a racially pure society. Established in 1935, the program provided maternity homes for unmarried women of "good blood" to encourage childbirth and adoption by SS families. Despite its charitable facade, the program was marked by lies, cruelty, and kidnapping.
Initially, many SS housewives refused to adopt Lebensborn babies on moral grounds, a challenge Himmler did not anticipate. However, as the war progressed, more families adopted children to replace those lost in battle. The program's propaganda painted an idealized picture of motherhood, aiming to remove any obstacles to childbirth and stigmatizing single mothers to align with Nazi ideology.
The legacy of Lebensborn is complex, with its impact still felt today through the descendants of those born in the program. The impacts of these programs and ideologies bled into post World War II Germany, which had a generation of babies that were born in these conditions, as well as a generation raised by those who protected these programs and institutions.
Jones’ article provides a historical context for post-World War II Germany, focusing on the persistence of Nazi influence and the societal reckoning that followed. Jones unpacks the issues stating: “After the war, while high-ranking Nazis were prosecuted at the Nuremberg trials, many lower-level Nazis remained in key professional roles necessary for rebuilding society, such as doctors, judges, and civil servants. This led to a society where Nazi beliefs were still prevalent. For instance, in 1946, 37% of Germans in the American Zone believed the Holocaust was necessary for their security, and similar sentiments persisted into the early 1950s.”
Jones’ article also highlights the delayed reckoning with the Nazi past. It wasn't until the early 1960s that the Nazi era was introduced into German school curricula, which influenced the youth who would drive the cultural shifts of the late 1960s. This generational awakening led to a stark divide between the younger generation and their parents, who had been complicit in or indifferent to Nazi atrocities. This tension is exemplified by Gudrun Ensslin, a founder of the Red Army Faction, who saw the older generation as irredeemable and advocated for armed resistance. The setting of "Suspiria" in West Berlin, next to the Berlin Wall, underscores these historical tensions and the lingering impact of the Nazi era on German society.
Part II: The Historical Backdrop of 2018's "Suspiria"
Luca Guadagnino's 2018 remake of "Suspiria" is set against the rich and complex historical context of 1977 Berlin, a period marked by political unrest, social upheaval, and cultural transformation.
Post-World War II Germany was a nation divided both physically and ideologically. The Berlin Wall, erected in 1961, became the most potent symbol of this division. It separated East Berlin, under Soviet control, from West Berlin, which was aligned with the Western powers. The wall not only divided a city but also represented the broader geopolitical struggle between communism and capitalism during the Cold War.
The Berlin Wall's presence created a climate of tension and fear, as families were split, and the movement was heavily restricted. This division had profound social and psychological impacts on the German people, fostering a sense of isolation and oppression. The wall stood until 1989, when the political changes in Eastern Europe and the decline of Soviet influence led to its fall, symbolizing the end of the Cold War and the beginning of German reunification. If you think about how recent that really was, the political landscape of today makes much more sense.
The Red Army Faction and the German Autumn
The Red Army Faction (RAF), also known as the Baader-Meinhof Group, was a somewhat radical leftist organization that emerged in West Germany in the late 1960s. The RAF sought to overthrow what they perceived as a fascist state and capitalist oppression, using violent means to achieve their goals. Their activities included bombings, assassinations, kidnappings, and bank robberies.
The "German Autumn" of 1977 was a particularly intense period of RAF activity. It was marked by a series of high-profile attacks, including the kidnapping and murder of former SS member Hanns Martin Schleyer and the hijacking of Lufthansa Flight 181. The hijackers demanded the release of eleven Red Army Faction (RAF) members imprisoned in Germany, as well as two Palestinians held in Turkish prisons, and a $15 million ransom.
These events created a climate of fear and led to a significant government crackdown on terrorism. The state's response included increased surveillance, stricter laws, and a broader debate about civil liberties and state power. This response in many ways showcased why the RAF was taking these actions.
The RAF's actions and the state's response had a lasting impact on German society, contributing to a sense of disillusionment and questioning of authority. The period also highlighted the generational divide, as younger Germans, influenced by the 1968 student movements and the revelations of their parents' involvement in Nazi crimes, sought to challenge the status quo.
The radical left's influence extended beyond political activism to the cultural sphere. The 1968 student protests, driven by opposition to the Vietnam War and dissatisfaction with the West German government, sparked a wave of cultural and social change. Young people, inspired by the countercultural movements in the United States and Europe, began to question traditional values and norms. This period saw the rise of alternative lifestyles, communal living, and experimental art forms.
The RAF's actions and the state's response created a climate of fear and tension, but they also sparked important debates about civil liberties, state power, and the role of violence in political struggle. The radical left's emphasis on anti-authoritarianism and social justice resonated with many young people, shaping their political consciousness and cultural expressions.
This set the tone of Suspiria, focusing on artists, and younger dancers that were being manipulated by the generation that survived and built power during World War II. The reasoning for their participation in protest twisted to be selfish and against what was best for the dance company and coven. The ending where the quiet part was finally said out loud, the truth of what was happening, and the history finally out in the open, ready to be healed from.
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