Suspiria

Argento more or less abandons plot here and replaces it with colour. An American ballet student arrives at a German dance academy in a rainstorm shot like the end of the world, and from there the film runs on nightmare logic: primary-red lighting, a Goblin score that never lets up, and set-piece deaths staged as though the camera has a grudge.

It was one of the last films printed in three-strip Technicolor, which is why the reds look like nothing shot since. See it on the biggest screen you can and turn the sound up past comfortable.

Do not expect the mystery to add up. That was never the assignment.