Directed by Peter Strickland, 2012, 92 minutes

British Sound engineer Gilderoy (Toby Jones) arrives at the Berberian Sound Studio in 1970s Rome to work on ‘Equestrian Vortex’ a film by celebrated director Giancarlo Santini (Antonio Mancino). His inability to speak Italian exacerbates his sense of culture shock and makes working with his colleagues, particularly producer Francesco Coraggio (Cosimo Fusco) difficult. His discomfort escalates when he discovers that he is working on a violent horror film rather than a film about horse-riding.

Director and writer Peter Strickland’s work is refreshingly eccentric and resolutely uncompromising. His films ‘Berberian Sound Studio’, ‘Duke of Burgundy’ (2014) and ‘In Fabric’ (2018) may take seventies European ‘exploitation’ cinema as their starting point but rather than simply creating a pastiche he mixes their colour with his own imaginative palette to create something unique. ‘Berberian Sound Studio’ can be a disorientating experience for the casual viewer. We arrive, like Gilderoy, in a strange, enclosed world. Almost all the action takes place in the sound studio and there are no exterior shots to relieve our sense of claustrophobia. Surrounded by an intimidating array of dials and switches, men fiddle fussily with knobs whilst women shriek in enclosed booths like one of Francis Bacon’s screaming popes. Between recording sessions sexual tension seethes and bubbles. Strickland makes no attempt to explain the technical details of sound design, instead he illustrates Gilderoy’s work with close-up shots of sound charts and period recording equipment. The juxtaposition of descriptions of screen violence, quoted from the screenplay of ‘Equestrian Vortex’, alongside demonstrations of the mundane methods used to create appropriate sound effects is jarringly surreal, almost comic and increases our sense of dislocation. Those unfamiliar with Italian cinema or sound engineering may feel rather lost but Nicholas Knowland’s arresting photography holds the attention as do strong performances, particularly from Toby Jones and Fatma Mohamed. Strickland’s stubborn refusal to spoon-feed his audience heightens dramatic tension for the first-time viewer but some contextual information enhances a second viewing.

Although we rarely leave the Berberian Sound Studio the outside world constantly impinges on those who work within. Italy in the 1970s was beset by social unrest as extremists from the right and left (such as the Red Army Faction and Ordine Nuovo) created a climate of political terror which is now remembered as “The Years of Lead”. The power-cuts which interrupt work at the studio are a symptom of failing infrastructure and the violence of Santini’s film reflects a society where assassination and bombings are regular occurrences. Italian horror and thriller films from this period (and earlier) are often described as ‘giallo’, named after the yellow-jacketed pulp thrillers popular in Italy during the 1920s and 1930s. Fictional director Giancarlo Santini seems to be based loosely on Dario Argento, who, alongside Mario Bava is one of the giallo stylists whose work has attracted cult following outside Italy. Santini’s film, ‘Equestrian Vortex’, a tale of witchcraft and murder set in a riding school bears some resemblance to Argento’s best-known film ‘Suspiria’ (1977), which features witches in a ballet academy. From the 1930s onwards, almost all Italian films were redubbed in the studio. Additional Dialogue Recording (ADR) allowed directors to better manage a multinational cast (hence the surreal but endearing mismatch in lip-synch) but also gave them an incredible degree of control over the sonic world of their films. In Argento’s ‘Suspiria’, Claudio Simonetti’s driving, percussive score and Luciano Anzellotti’s sound effects combine to enhance the drama. Broadcast’s meticulous score for ‘Berberian Sound Studio’ has a more gothic timbre than ‘Suspiria’ but viewers who are familiar with the baroque soundscapes of Argento’s cinema will recognise the repeating nursery-rhyme motifs which, alongside some startling glossolalia and schrei elements generate a strong sense of period authenticity.

As in his first feature ‘Katalin Varga’ (2009) sound is integral to the success of ‘Berberian Sound Studio’. Strickland came to cinema via experimental music and his work eloquently demonstrates the importance of film music and sound design. The viewer may only see the opening credits of ‘Equestrian Vortex’, but we experience the film without ever seeing it. Instead, we witness the violent abuse of fruit and vegetables as Gilderoy’s sound effects invite us to picture the worst atrocities. ‘Berberian Sound Studio’ recalls British playground conversations in the seventies and eighties when those lucky enough to have access to a video recorder or late-night television breathlessly recounted the best bits of filmic forbidden fruit. Films became bigger, brighter, and more horrific as they were embellished in the imagination of the awestruck listener. When some of us finally saw ‘Suspiria’ on fuzzy, bootleg video the violence was underwhelming. Cinematic imagery seldom surpasses the imagination, and this is particularly the case with giallo. Despite the artistry of special effects technicians like Germano Natali or Sergio Stivaletti, the cartoon colours of blood and flesh seem too artificial; the carnage contrived for aesthetic effect rather than visceral realism. These elaborate, violent tableaux may excite the eye and ear, but they rarely shock.

In ‘Berberian Sound Studio’ Strickland has created a conflicted love-song to giallo cinema. Despite their inconsistent quality and lurid style, it is insufficient to simply dismiss these films as prurient nonsense. Argento’s revolutionary use of sound and surreal visuals transcend the repetitive narratives and stilted performances. Whilst Strickland clearly admires the artistry of the giallo form he also acknowledges the flaws of some of the artists who created them. Santini and his producer Coraggio are misogynist monsters who habitually describe women as witches, poisonous to men. The scenes of torture on screen and howls of agony serve as an outlet for their hatred. For some of the harassed female performers the shriek becomes an expression of rage and frustration: Like practitioners of Arthur Janov’s primal therapy they reclaim the scream as an act of cathartic therapy. The parallel stories of ‘Berberian Sound Studio’ and ‘Equestrian Vortex’ intersect. Just as the persecuted witches return to wreak vengeance on the living, abused actress Silvia (Fatma Mohamed) confronts male oppression by exacting her own appropriate revenge on the film and its director. Thrust into gender conflict, Gilderoy is clearly more at ease with the women at the studio (with one exception) than alpha males Santini or Corragio. Although initially sympathetic, his extreme emotional reserve is shaken by the imagery that he helps to create. When he realises that his professional frustration has uncovered a capacity to commit physical violence it precipitates a mental crisis. Strickland ingeniously deploys subtitling and dubbing as dramatic devices to blur the boundary between fantasy and reality: Gilderoy begins to speak Italian, his speeches dubbed and subtitled like Santini and Corragio as if he has become one of the torturers of ‘Equestrian Vortex’. The film cleverly reminds us of our own complicity as consumers of violent entertainment when for a moment the image burns and breaks, like celluloid in a projector gate.

‘Berberian Sound Studio’ is particularly timely in its discussion of sexism within the film industry and Strickland’s approach is commendably level-headed. His work confronts the dubious gender politics that can be found in some films of this period but acknowledges that it is facile to judge the art of the past by the moral standards of the present; we can acknowledge artistic merit without condoning the views of those who create it.  Although Argento’s films continue to provoke debate about voyeurism and screen violence, he robustly denies accusations of misogyny. Recent criticism has emphasised the pivotal role of writer, actress and partner Daria Nicolodi in the creation of ‘Suspiria’ and the film includes as many strong female characters as it does female victims, but some critics argue that the portrayal of a coven of demonic women is negative and retrograde, a symptom of the entrenched sexism depicted in ‘Berberian Sound Studio’.

Peter Strickland is one of Britain’s brightest talents, his work engages the mind as well as the senses. Resolutely international, he chooses to work outside the stuffy confines of British cinema and its fixation on history, class, and social realism. ‘Berberian Sound Studio’ works better if you have some knowledge of seventies Italian horror cinema so if you’ve never seen Argento’s ‘Suspiria’ treat yourself and watch it first. Viewers familiar with Argento’s work will better appreciate the cleverness of Strickland’s film and relish an added layer of irony.

Quotes

“…when you see these women, do you see catholic or witch? Do you believe (in) God Gilderoy?”  Santini (Antonio Mancino)

“I’d rather not get technical…” Gilderoy (Toby Jones)

“I’m trying my best to do my work and it’s never good enough. It always comes to the same thing, I’m just a whore to them, nothing more” Silvia (Fatma Mohamed)

Connections

Film

‘Suspiria’ directed by Dario Argento (1977)

‘Inferno’ directed by Dario Argento (1980)

‘Katalin Varga’ directed by Peter Strickland (2009)

‘Duke of Burgundy’ directed by Peter Strickland (2014)

‘Suspiria’ directed by Luca Guadagnino (2018)

‘In Fabric’ directed by Peter Strickland (2018)

Television

‘The Stone Tape’ written by Nigel Kneale, directed by Peter Sasdy, BBC, 1972

Reading

Thomas De Quincey, Levana and Our Ladies of Sorrow’ found in ‘Confessions of an English Opium Eater and other writings, Penguin Classics, 2003 (originally published 1845), ISBN 978-0140439014

Robert Aickman,The Model,  Robinson Publishing, 1988, ISBN 0948164697

Michael Sevastakis, Giallo Cinema and its Folktale Roots: A critical study of 10 films, 1962 – 1987, McFarland and Co, 2016, ISBN 978-0786495016

Mikel J. Koven, La Dolce Morte: Vernacular Cinema and the Italian Giallo Film, The Scarecrow Press, 2006, ISBN 978-0810858701

Music

Diamanda Galas, ‘Schrei X’, Mute, 1996

Broadcast, ‘Berberian Sound Studio. Original Soundtrack’, Warp Records, 2012

Goblin , ‘Suspiria 40^th Anniversary Edition’, Cinevox, 2017

Thom Yorke, ‘Suspiria’, XL Recordings, 2018