All language subtitles for The.101.Scariest.Horror.Movie.Moments.of.All.Time.S01E05.720p.AMZN.WEBRip.x264-GalaxyTV_track3_eng

Come on, big fella.

That's it, kitty.

Horror movies have
a wonderful way

of making you know
that you'll be okay...

But you're kind of
indulging in these feelings

of powerlessness and fear,
like roller coasters,

where you get to the top
of that hill and you're like,

"I shouldn't have--
why did I do this?

"I should not have done this.
Here I go.

I'm doing it! Here I go!"

"But I'm gonna be all right.

It was good to get that out
of the system."

That's what I love
about horror movies.

It does strike
this primal terror...

And yet,

it lets you know, like...

You'll be okay.

You'll be all right.
You'll survive.

Make sure you have popcorn.

I have no intention
of losing the bay right now

when it's ours for the asking.

But how?

Police.

I'm a big fan
of "A Bay of Blood,"

the Mario Bava film.

It has many titles, this movie.

It's called "A Bay of Blood."

It's also called "Carnage."

But there's one title

that stands head and shoulders
above the rest

and that is "Twitch
of the Death Nerve."

Now that is a title and a half.

It's basically about a
woman who gets murdered

at the beginning of the film
by her husband.

And then he gets murdered.

And it kind of sets off
a chain of events

where we find out all
these people in this family

are kind of picking
each other off

to get this piece of land.

And it's just bloodshed

from the first frame
to the last.

Mario Bava started
as a cameraman.

His father was a cameraman,

and he was a pictorialist.

And his movies
are gorgeously lit,

whether he photographs them
or not.

And the deaths in the movies,

particularly
in "A Bay of Blood,"

are presented
as gorgeous tableaus

of macabre.

It's really playful and stylish.

You have all these characters
with their own motivations

running around wild locations
in great clothes

and finding themselves
murdered in extravagant ways.

It's horror almost by
the way of "Tom and Jerry."

It's got to that sort of,
like, point where, like,

the kills are so sort of extreme

and they're somewhat comedic,

just in their, like, brutality.

No!

In "Bay of Blood,"
there's this scene

where this couple
is making love on a bed

and they are impaled.

It's during a sex scene,

and the sex scene does not
feel romantic in any way

because you have this woman
on top of the guy.

You don't see their faces.

You just see grinding flesh.

But also the guy has his hands
out in a way

where he's holding on
to the back of her head

and it looks like
he's just devouring her face.

So it's almost like, kill them.

They're having terrible sex,
clearly.

You see the couple as they die.

They're, like, stuck together
and they're writhing,

you know, against one another,
and it's kind of like

this still kind of sexual
in a way

that you don't really want it
to be, but it is,

so you feel uncomfortable.

But you're also watching

to people die, so you feel bad

for thinking that there's
anything sexy about it.

There are elements of that movie

that show up in slasher films,
and particularly

in the "Friday the 13th" series.

In fact, there's a shock
in "Friday the 13th Part 2,"

which is directly ripped off
from "Bay of Blood,"

where two people having sex
are speared mid-coitus

and the spear,
like, pins them to the bed.

The difference
with "Bay of Blood" though

to the slasher films
is that the twist

is not dissimilar
to some Agatha Christie books:

they're all the killer.

Also ripped off in the film
"Hot Fuzz."

Same twist:
they're all the killer.

So I see "Bay of Blood"
as a very gory, X-rated

Agatha Christie film.

My God.

It's standing right behind you.

"The Conjuring."

"The Conjuring" is top-notch
scarefest.

James Wan at his peak.

All the scares are slow burners

and they take their time.
- What is it?

And it always happens
behind the character.

The audience
can fill in the blanks

with their imagination.

And it-- things don't have
to be these, like,

gazillion dollar CGI effects.

So you could have something
very simple...

That will get
the audience really going.

Boo, Mommy!

I would say

that the hide and clap scene

is, like, that standout
memorable moment.

Remember, you get to ask me
for three claps.

Okay.
- And you get the pattern

of what that game is like.

It's just her, blindfolded,

walking around the house.

First clap!

Clap, clap.

She's over there.

Shit.

Second clap.

I'm gonna go follow that.

April.

And it's such an innocent moment

where she's having
a bonding moment

and playing with her child.

And it was just very effective

to take something so innocent
and turn it so dark.

I know where you're hiding.

Give me the third clap.

I can hear you breathing.

April?

April?

Ha ha,
you took your blindfold off.

I win!
You weren't even warm, Mom.

I was in Christine
and Nancy's room.

And then
the hide and clap mechanic

returns when you start getting
traditional bump in the night

kind of scares...

Which guide her down
into the basement.

Who is that?

Whosever down there,
I'm gonna lock you in now!

Everybody in the audience,

100% of everybody
in the audience

is convinced
when she's light the match...

That the thing,

whatever it is, is down there.

Hey, wanna play hide and clap?

James Wan got you,

and he got you so bad.

Roping in an innocent
children's game

and applying that
to haunted house tropes...

Clap.

That's horror.

We've become such homebodies.

Yes, yes.

The chores
have become my sanctuary.

Get out.

Sorry, man.

Get out!

Yo!

Yo, chill, man!

Get out!
- Chill, chill!

Just chill, man!

How lucky are we
to kind of be this far

into movies and culture
and to be a witness

to another culturally
zeitgeist-grabbing horror movie

like "Get Out"?
- A lot of my family

and my friends said, "You know,

"it is the perfect
Black horror film

"because it definitely deals
with fears

"that a lot
of African Americans feel

and have felt."
- Yo!

Somebody help! Yo!

Hey!

"Get Out" follows Chris
as he embarks

on meeting his white
girlfriend's, Rose's, parents

for the first time.

He asks her...

Do they know I'm Black?

No.

Should they?

And you see kind
of the casual dismissiveness

of "It's no big deal.

"There's nothing to worry about.

They're not racist."

And then the film unfolds...

As it does.

Chris just can't sleep.

He's wandering in the hallway.

There's Missy waiting
with her teacup.

Come in and sit with me.

Please.

And then there
is this literal descent,

for him anyway, into hell

that begins
from this very quiet,

genteel encounter.

So you think
you're just going through

the hypnosis scene in one way

with the Catherine Keener
character

that is very, very trusting
and very relatable

and like the mother
that a lot of us go to visit

at our friend's
or our partner's house.

We do use focal points sometimes

to guide someone to a state
of heightened suggestibility.

Heightened suggestibility.

That's right.
- And then it becomes

completely dark and sadistic

and manipulative
and treacherous.

What about your mother?

What about her?

Wait, are we--
- Where were you

when she died?

Her kind of witchy hypnosis

to prime Chris to go back
into his childhood...

How do you feel now?

I can't move.

You can't move.

Now sink into the floor.

Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait.
- Sink.

This iconic image,

Chris floating
in that nothingness,

but also being, like, seen
from the outside

by Catherine Keener's
character, the hypnotist,

it's an amazing image, right?

And it's so filled with, like,
different types of resonances.

Now you're in the sunken place.

You are trapped, voiceless,
without agency

in this sunken place
just hits such a chord

with so many viewers,
not just Black viewers,

because the movie did great
for everyone.

But especially
for Black viewers,

it really feels like something
that is true

as much as it is terrifying.

It's a really great metaphor

for the stereotyping
of Black people.

You ever get in street fights
as a kid?

Because a stereotype

is actually, like, about fixity.

It's about a cage
that you're put in

and you're always trying
to slip out of that cage.

That fixity is something
that you deal with every day.

That freaked me out.

That's the part that scared me.

More than all the other things,

that was the horror part of it.

It wasn't about
people being decapitated

or things like that.

That was way deeper
and way subtle

and I didn't get the movie
until that happened.

And then it's like,
"That's what this is about?"

You know?

Nothing in this life
makes me happier

than the fact that Showtime
gave David Lynch

clearly more money
than he'd ever had

in his life to make a movie

to make an 18-hour miniseries.

David Lynch is so great
at telling a visual story.

He explains so much
while explaining nothing.

He answers so many questions
while begging so many more.

I've never seen
a better example of that

than in episode eight
of "Twin Peaks."

Episode eight
is the atomic episode.

It is unlike anything else

in that version of "Twin Peaks"

and it's unlike anything else
anywhere.

The episode really begins
with beautiful footage

of the first atomic bomb
explosion in Alamogordo

and then tricked it out
with VFX.

It's playing to a piece
of classical music

by Krzysztof Penderecki

called "Threnody
for the Victims of Hiroshima,"

and it's gorgeous and discordant

and it perfectly matches
this slow atomic blast

that goes on and on
and on and on.

One of the things film
does best is play with time

and play with your perception
of time.

And "Twin Peaks: The Return"
really plays

with your perception of time,

sometimes in a way
deliberately intended

to aggravate you it seems,

and other times
it is to hypnotize you

and to draw you into this world.

And essentially
what's happening in the world

of "Twin Peaks" is that it
is ripping open the fabric

of space and time
and allowing evil demons

to come into our world.

These kind of burnt-up guys,

presumably from the atomic fire.

So the Woodsman's the main guy

and he says infamously,
you know,

"Got a light?"

Got a light?

Got a light?

And then he makes his way
to a radio station.

And it's been playing just
like a '50s monster movie...

Until he comes up to the DJ
and squishes the guy's head

in a way you would never see
in a '50s monster movie.

You think, "This'll be,
like, a fun thrill.

My God, he actually crushed
that man's skull."

It's so fucking sober.

He leans into the microphone
and says...

As he says this--
this chant over and over,

it puts everyone to sleep
in the town.

And they all go
into some ambulant trance.

I find that I remember
David Lynch's stuff

like a nightmare.

That's kind of how it
is with that moth-fish thing.

But I do remember
being totally disgusted

'cause anything like
that crawling

into someone's mouth...

I mean, talk about danger.

Talk about mystery.

It's nice
to not feel safe sometimes

watching something.

And you do not feel safe
watching that episode at all.

Some of the best horror movies,

you didn't know they were horror

when you started watching them.

"Pan's Labyrinth" is one
of those movies.

It started and I was like,
"Great.

It's about the civil war
and Franco.

It's a great
Guillermo del Toro movie

set in the real world."

My grandfather grew up
in those places

and those times,
so watching that movie

was just to hear
the fantasy version

of all the tales
my grandfather would tell.

"Pan's Labyrinth" is about
a young girl in 1944 Spain,

where the fascists have
already won the civil war

and they're in control.

She moves from the city
with her mother,

who was extremely pregnant
and sick,

to her stepfather's compound,

who is a very evil fascist.

Ofelia, she discovers
a magical world

and you start to see both
worlds intertwine--

the real world

with the atrocities
of the fascists...

And then the magical
supernatural world.

That moment when she goes
through that hole in the floor

and just comes out
in this such a bizarre world.

And it's a great scene
for many reasons.

I mean, first
because it shows the genius

of del Toro's creations.

It's like, "What is that thing
and what is it doing?

Is it sleeping?"

And then that thing comes
to life.

The moment
that really terrified me

was the Pale Man walking down
the hallway.

The redesign
of the makeup artist reinvented

and they created this thing
that I hadn't seen before.

It's a great combination
of design and performance,

I think, and general vision

because that moment
is really terrifying.

If you notice, it's the people

that are the most violent.

It is the people
that are the most evil.

What we see
with the supernatural world,

yes, the Pale Man was eating
the fairies...

And eats children,
but he was a metaphor

for what was happening
with the humans.

When a child cannot trust
the adults in charge of her

and when they are prone
to violence...

Not only is it

a universal fear,
but it brings about

an innate biological revulsion
in people

that you would see
a fantastical world as a--

yeah, go there.

Get away from that monster.
Go to that monster.

Let's have a baby.

Let's have three babies,

one at a time, all right?

As a model of storytelling,

I mean, you really can't beat
"Rosemary's Baby."

It's as close to a perfect movie

as anyone has made, I think.

From the casting
to the way it looks

to the level of humor.

He has his father's eyes.

There's not a note wrong
with it.

I mean,
everything works perfectly.

And it's scary as hell.

It's lovely.

You'll get used to the smell

before you know it.

We sort of suspect it,
you know, more than she does

that there's nefarious things
happening, you know,

all around her between
her husband and the neighbors.

You know what's happening
to her and she doesn't.

Madame and monsieur shall
have ze dessert after all.

What?
- Mousse au chocolat

or as Minnie calls it,
"chocolate mouse."

She really is like
an innocent lamb

to the slaughter.

Has an undertaste.

Come on,
the old bat slaved all day.

Now eat it.

I don't like it.
- It's delicious.

One of the beautiful things
that that film does

is to put the audience
into Rosemary's skin.

And then of course that, like,
magnificent

sort of dream rape scene.

That sequence is a short little
film in itself

and just extraordinary.

The dream sequence is one
of the best dream sequences

in the history of movies
because it really plays

like a dream.

It doesn't have
Salvador Dalí faces

and it doesn't have mist
on the ground.

It's lived and seen
like it's happening,

but it's got
a sort of a veneer over it.

Characters in the story appear
in places

that they wouldn't ordinarily.

And there was, I think,
JFK is in it

and there's all sorts
of iconic people in it.

She's awake. She sees.
- She don't see.

As long as she ate the mouse,
she can't see nor hear.

She's like dead now. Sing.

It's a very particular
kind of dream

that of course, like,
goes very badly in the end.

Because you see it
from her perspective

and she's not alarmed
and that moment

where she says, you know, like,
"Do you forgive me, father?"

Am I forgiven, father?

Absolutely.

God. It's just...

I just, like, shivered a bit

thinking about it.

This is no dream.

This is really happening!

One of the things I find

that people get really
put out by

is when she wakes up the next
day,

Guy, played by
John Cassavetes, says...

I didn't wanna miss baby night.

You-- while I was out?
- And a couple of my nails

were ragged and--

and it was kind of fun
in a necrophile sort of way.

There's no jump scares
in that movie.

It's all atmosphere.

It's all suggestion.

You don't even really see
anything, really.

But it's the idea
that's so horrific.

Is it all right?

Yes.

It's fine.

"Inside" is part of the French
New Extremity movement,

this wave of French horror films

that essentially pull
no punches.

It is a movie about a woman
who is pregnant.

She is also now a widow.

It's Christmas Eve.

She is going to be induced
the next day to give birth.

She is in the throes of grief

while also questioning
whether she actually wants

to be a mother.

She's alone at home,

and there's a late-night knock
on the door.

It is another woman

and she wants her baby.

And what ensues
is this absolutely incredible

home invasion movie
like no other.

It's a very tense film

and it kind of exploits
that fear of motherhood

that "Rosemary's Baby" did,
but it amps it up, you know,

1,000 times more.

It's so well-acted
by the two leads

that it makes it even harder
to watch.

Béatrice Dalle,
she's something else.

Definitely the toughest scene,

one of the most devastating
things on film

I've ever seen...

Is when she's hiding
in the bathroom...

Her mom comes to check on her.

The mom comes up the stairs.

She doesn't know it's her mom.

She's all crazed and terrified
from this woman.

And then she comes
bursting out...

And stabs her mother.

My God.

Imagine stabbing
your own mother.

Who can imagine such a thing?

Who could even conceive
of what they would do

if they did something like that?

Who knows what that looks like?

This actress shows us what
that looks like.

Maman.

That moment kind of owes
something to "Tenebrae"

and the great blood spray
on the wall.

But it did really making
its own and I love

that it's not simply
a "Look what we did"

and "Look what we're nodding
to."

It's not purely homage
and it's not purely just

recreating it.

It's really doing its own thing

of "The threat is now
in your home"

And you're gonna have to sit,

as the audience, in agony,

waiting for her to strike

'cause it's not gonna happen
right now.

And I think that goes a long
way in making a movie scary.

And "Se7en" is as much
a horror movie

as it is a detective thriller.

"Se7en's" about a series
of killings

that take place
in an unnamed city,

where each of the killings,
one by one,

is based on one
of the seven deadly sins.

Gluttony,

greed,

sloth, wrath,

pride,

lust,

and envy.

Walking down the streets
of New York City at the time,

you know, late '80s,

if you didn't put blinders on
to man's plight around you,

you would literally see
a deadly sin

on every street corner.

It's always raining.

You're always in alleyways
or seedy environments.

It's always dark there.

Searching the crime scenes
with flashlights.

So that whole movie
is about discovery.

This guy goes by the name
of Victor.

His prints were found
at the scene by Homicide.

If there's any big scare
in "Se7en,"

it's probably sloth.

The SWAT team is ready

to break into
this assailant's space, right?

You know,
all their hypermasculine guns

are everywhere.

You're taking a lot
of tough SWAT guys,

going in with practically
army gear and shotguns

and flashlights
and feeling fully prepared

for whatever
they were gonna find.

Police!

And the trick was to have
them completely unprepared

for what they do find.

Fincher does such a great job

of just making you feel like
you can smell the room

with all
the little air fresheners

hanging everywhere.

Fuck me.

And you think you're walking

into this grizzly,
brutal crime scene

of this completely emaciated
human being,

just left for dead.

He's desiccated.

He looks like he's been dead
for a while.

The makeup is
so beautiful and so horrific

and provocative
all at the same time.

I couldn't get it
out of my head.

But of course, the lead
tactical guy leads and say--

You got what you deserved.

Then he wakes up.

That's a big gotcha moment.

Friends of mine used to call
that a sphincter factor of ten.

Choo.

There's nothing
that could prepare them

for the absolute horror
of Sloth waking up.

This must be the first one--

dated exactly
one year ago today.

As an audience member,
knowing that that person

is still alive, I can't
imagine the final moments

of this person's life.

He's experienced about
as much pain and suffering

as anyone I've encountered,
give or take.

It's just torturous
on a whole other level.

And he still has hell
to look forward to.

One of the keys to "Se7en"
was trying to--

as the cops walk into
the scene of each killing,

to get in the head
of the victim enough

that you as an audience member
would be saying,

"My God, what if
I were in that situation?"

You know, this isn't
gonna have a happy ending.

"Zodiac" is a very unique film,

and coming off of the noir-ish,
beautiful, heightened nightmare

that Fincher tapped
into with "Se7en,"

he hit something else
with "Zodiac" that I think

is pretty profound, and that's
a sense of utter realism.

Because it was based

on a real case, Fincher very
deliberately made a lot

of creative decisions that were
the exact opposite of "Se7en."

I think part of the reason
for that was to be respectful

to the people who actually died.

There is no gimmicks
and weird camera movements

because the intention
is different.

It's, like, immersing you
in the reality of that.

It's a movie
about the bureaucracy

of investigating a murder.

I hear you have some files
for us.

I'll show you mine,
you show me yours.

I find "Zodiac"
to be a riveting procedural.

But what Fincher does,
and why I think "Zodiac"

is a horror film
is that amid all of this

incredible procedural work,

he treats us
to one of the most upsetting

and suspenseful sequences ever

in a story
about a serial killer--

the murder of the couple
by the lake, which plays out

as close as I can imagine
an event like that

actually playing out.

Somebody else is here.

It is a public park.

Just punches you in the gut,
because it is just a couple

having a nice moment
in the park,

and then this creep shows up
in this, like, black hood.

It's not the incredible
low-angled silhouette

with the dripping rain you get

in "Se7en" when you meet
the killer.

This is just a normal person

on the periphery of the scene,

stepping out
and looking pretty silly.

My God, he has a gun.

Don't move.

He does keep the killer
at quite a distance.

Fincher is a genius
at what he shows you,

because he doesn't want
you to see anything

that the victims don't.

You know they're not gonna
survive this moment.

That information, whatever
they glean, goes with them,

and that's haunting.

Are you all done?

The shot selection
is very subjective.

It's very much about what you
should and shouldn't see

in a given moment,
and there's no music.

There's none of the seasoning
that a serial killer movie

would employ.

It's just so unflinchingly
matter-of-fact

that it becomes
a level of horror

that I think is far worse.

I can't remember many moments
in film where you actually see

the brutality
of a murder so vividly.

The stabbing of the couple
in the park,

that's when I turned it off.

It was too real.

But my intention is to go back
and see how he shot that.

Why did it affect me like that?

A murder like that can be told

in a thousand different ways.

It can be elegant.

You can hide, and he decided in
that moment to just show it.

That's one of the moments in
film where you don't wanna see,

because you know it's real.

You know the victims are real,
and he takes you to the edge.

The chimps are infected.

We like to focus a lot today
on "elevated horror,"

things that look beautifully
cinematic.

But there's also an ugliness

that can be
as beautiful as well.

"28 Days Later,"
there is no other film

I can compare it to
visually at all.

Always, when there's

a zombie on-screen, it's fast.

It's high-shutter.
It's quick cuts,

and the sound design
is so amped up.

The infection
and the sounds and all that,

they all feel
like such a threat.

One of the things

that "28 Days Later" did--
it's a virus--

There's something in the blood.

By the time they tried
to evacuate the cities,

it was already too late.

And you can just get it
while you're alive.

Like, you could just get a drop
of blood in your eye.

And you'll become a zombie.

That's the beauty
of "28 Days Later,"

is it just deals with
the humanity of things,

and it's so grounded.

So I'm Frank, anyway.
- Jim.

You meet
Brendan Gleeson's character.

You meet his daughter.
- This is my daughter, Hannah.

All four of these travelers
trek to find an outpost.

Look over there.

Like a family.

This might be a place
where they could be safe

and where they might be able to
live some semblance of a life.

They get to the outpost
and they realize

that it's been abandoned.

We should check the vehicles.
There has to be something.

Frank.
- We have to go.

Yeah.
- Go fucking where?

So obviously, there's this level

of frustration in the scene

where Brendan Gleeson's
just having a moment.

He sees this crow
pecking away at a body.

Get out of here.

And when that blood falls--

It's just, "No."

And the way it just cuts so
fast from the point of view

of the drop to his eye red
to him covering his face

and telling
his daughter, "Back off."

Dad?
Are you all right?

Yeah, I'm fine, sweetheart.

Sorry I lost my temper.

It's this moment of, like,
extraordinary--

heartbreak.

Keep away from me.

Stay where you are.

Dad?
- Keep away!

'Cause we know what's coming,

and he knows what's coming,

and everybody in the scenario
knows what's coming.

It's almost like
the perspective shifts.

At first, you're in it
with him as the observer,

and then you almost take
the seat of his daughter,

and you're watching him just
transform into a monster.

Jim!
Jim, he's infected!

No! No!

What makes it so gut-wrenching

and so scary and so iconic

is also the tragedy
of that moment as well,

because tragedy
is the sister of fear.

A lot of things are made
all the more disturbing

and horrific,
because it is so sad.

Jim!
- No!

Jim, get him!
- Dad!

Jim!

It's as though
that last bit of humanity

has gone from the world.

Jesus!

Christ!

"30 Days of Night,"

that is a seriously underrated
vampire horror movie.

Danny Huston
is absolutely brilliant

and equally terrifying
in that role.

Die!

Yeah, you're just not used
to seeing vampires like that.

Nothing sexual
and sensual about it.

You know, it's like,
there's no like,

"I'm about to seduce you
and take time

to turn you into a vamp-- no.

They won't turn you
into a vampire.

They just wanna eat you.

They're not related to
anything around Christianity.

Who are you people?

They're a species.

Vampires have definitely
become much more romantic

over the years,
and in this movie,

they are not your
sparkly "Twilight" vampires.

Are you afraid?

No.

These are not
the kind of vampires

you wanna bring home
to your parents.

These are the vampires
that will completely behead

and massacre your parents
and your whole family

and then probably make you watch

before they
take you out as well.

One of the quintessential

moments of that film
is the vampire killing spree.

It's almost like
watching wild animals.

Not just when
they go on the hunt,

but they go on kill missions.

They were just
these ravenous beasts

and tearing everybody
out the windows

and ripping everybody to shreds

and playing with their food
in a sense.

I mean, that really--

when they have
the overhead shot,

it really just sets the tone
for how brutal these killers

and vampires are
and how they will stop

at nothing and they don't
abide by the normal rules.

They're in their own sort of
timeline in cinematic history

and it's brand-new.

One of the most terrifying

spots in there is when they're

about to eat this family, right?

And I think they've
already impaled the husband.

And they're about to eat
the wife and suck her dry

and just devour her.

Danny Huston's character

takes his claw, his talon,

and he starts playing
the record.

Whatever beautiful thing

was on that LP has now turned
into a horrible nocturn.

It's, like, the last thing
this woman is gonna hear.

And the one line
that perfectly sums up

the killing spree is when
Danny says to his victim--

Die!

One of the most perfect
moments in horror,

one of the most
well-constructed scenes

is when Clarice Starling,
played by Jamie Foster,

is following a lead in these
horrific serial killings.

It just sets us up from the
beginning in a beautiful way

of, like, between expectation
and what's really happening.

We see the killer
is Buffalo Bill

and he's, like, working
on his little moth collection,

and it's crosscutting
with the FBI.

A whole SWAT team is converging

on this one house.

But then the bell rings
and he looks up,

and you think it's going to be
the FBI descending on him.

FBI! Everybody down!

Down, down, down!

There's no one here, Jack.

Clarice.
- And, in fact,

they're in the wrong house.

Good afternoon.
Um, sorry to bother you.

Instead, the person at the door

is Clarice Starling, all alone.

Jodie Foster is five feet tall

and 80 pounds soaking wet.

She sells it
as this hard-nosed FBI agent.

She sells the shit out of it.

I believe her entirely.

I believe she's tough as nails.

I believe
she could take anybody on

because of what she--
her life force

that she brings to it.

And what-- what's the problem,
officer?

My God,

Ted Levine is brilliant.

He chose a personality
disorder of some kind,

and the way he fleshed it out,

every detail is so well-crafted.

Like even when she says,
"Did you know this girl?"

Did you know her?

Was she a great big fat person?

You realize, like, yeah,

something is wrong
with this person.

And she knows that this guy
is Buffalo Bill.

And you can see
that he knows he's busted.

Freeze!

Put your hands over your head
and turn around!

Spread your legs!
- And he looks so helpless

when that happens.

And then it turns
into that extended chase

in the basement.

There's a song playing.

It's by a band called The Fall

and it's echoing through
this brick chamber

as she's going down and down
and looking for him

and busting in through doors.

And finally
she sees his workshop,

which is filled with skins.

He's got half of his girl suit
that he's been building.

She busts into a bathroom

and there's a rotting corpse
in the bathtub.

It goes dark

and it's totally black.

And then you hear
this little whining

of the night vision goggles
going on.

He's got these infrared
goggles on and he can see her.

He becomes-- he becomes almost
like this cyclopean monster

because she can't see him.

It's totally dark,

and he's just toying with her.

He's, like, right behind her.

This is why people
are afraid of the dark.

That's why.

'Cause you don't-- you can't--

something can see you,
but you can't see it.

That is the whole reason
why we fear the dark

and have since the time
of cavemen.

And through this whole track,

she's struggling
to control her breathing

and it's really loud.

It's really up there in the mix

and it just increases
the intention.

And it's just when he starts
to cock the gun,

that was the dead giveaway.

Just that click,

that's what makes her turn
around and blow him away.

You're the hunter,
then you become the prey,

and you're able to reverse it.

Fantastic scene.

"Suspiria" bombards you
with every filmic element

to the point
where you are well-aware

that you're watching
an artifice.

And there's something
so beautiful

and terrifying about that.

And even
the whole opening sequence,

the first murder...

Who was that who's stabbing her?

And for heart to be so exposed
and then stabbing right

into the heart with the blade...

Those are nightmare images
that are unrealistic.

They're there
to just, like, shock you.

The whole color scheme
of the movie

reflecting emotionally
what's going on.

Dario is a master of color.

He would not usually use
calm colors.

The reds are really red
and bloodlike.

Blue would be used when
it was in contrast to red.

Green was more likely to be used

because it has a harsher feel,

a less calming feel
than blue does.

So his color palette itself
is incredibly passionate.

Susie, wake up.

Please, Susie, wake up!

The scene in "Suspiria"
where Sara is, you know,

trying to wake Susie up,
but she can't...

And then she goes wandering
around the halls

all alone like one should
never do in a horror film.

She's sneaking around
the ballet academy

trying to find this missing
set of notes,

and all of a sudden,
she feels like something

is pursuing her.

And so she locks herself

in the room, and we see this,
like, letter opener trying

to jimmy the lock of the room
that she's in

for an eternally long time,

to the point where you're just
like, "Just up. Just lift up."

She eventually,
after hiding in the corner,

gets the bright idea,

"Hey, there's a window up there.

I'll just go through."

So she kind of drags
a crate over,

hoists herself through
the window,

not really paying a lot
of attention

to what's on the other side
of this window.

And what happens
to be on the other side

is the academy's room
of razor wire.

Like you have
in all ballet academies,

they have a room of razor wire.

Who just jumps into barbed wire?

Like, it's the last thing
you're expecting.

And Argento does that.

I think Argento has a really
good way of creating things

that are, like,
really outlandish,

but you buy them
in the universes

that he creates.

Although Argento had removed
the barbing from the wire,

it was pretty painful
for the actress she said later.

She said it was like being bit
by thousands of ants

all at once.

And I think the sense
of discomfort and confusion

is coming
from a very real place.

It's so absurd, but it's part

of the heightened kind
of fairy tale.

She's trying to get up,

but she keeps falling back
into it.

And the hand comes out
with the razor blade

and, like, slits her throat.

And, of course, in true
Argento "Giallo" fashion,

the whole scene ends
with a push-in

on her scared eye as she dies.

It doesn't make sense here,

but it makes sense here.

It makes emotional sense
because it works.

It's so unexpected
and so out of nowhere,

that you just-- you know,
it's terrifying.

I think that's why
I love horror films

'cause the best ones
are surrealist cinema.

And surrealist cinema allows
us to look at our dreams

and explore our dreams
and live our dreams

in a safe place.

We can maybe look at 'em
again and again

and again and again
and maybe start to figure out

what really is going on here.