Suspiria ★★★★½

Allowing my selective memory to do as it does, Suspiria 2018 succeeded in perpetuating it'so own myth. The Three Mothers adapting to film in strange ways, all affected by or the product of witchcraft. Being somehow bound together by an ethereal violence and separation from reality/the outside world. Oppressive in it's buoyant aesthetics, crystal peacock showiness. The handful of sequels and adjacent films have glimpses of this but none so deliberately cult-like and ambitious than Suspiria 2018.

In the 6th grade I won an award for a poem I wrote about the pear trees in our yard that my mom would make spiced pear jam with. Some years they yielded so many that we couldn't keep up. They'd fall to the ground and decompose. The general outside area would have a strong but not unpleasant scent of fermenting pear. We'd see deer eating them off the ground early in the morning. I've thought about this a lot lately, and the Quiet Place In the Country nature of my original homestead reminds me of a comfy synth soft-giallo landscape. Sometimes scary, always beautiful. After my visit to Florida I was feeling sentimental and decided to make a similar jam with what's accessible to me here. I peeled the pears, cut the pears, stewed the pears, canned the pears. Finally we put on the movie and this shit's got a whole ass epilogue called "A Sliced Pear". Suspiria has an interesting way of knowing things about a person and challenging a person. Aggression as movement and symmetry. Like a spell, some films just happen to you. In bone-cutting severity Suspiria shows you things you didn't ask to see and you walk away vulnerable to it's parasitic lavender haze.