Suspiria is a weird movie. It’s the kind of film that strives for mood over cohesion and revels in the revolting, delights in the disgusting, and cares more about the shock than the awe. That doesn’t make it a bad movie. I was reminded a bit of Mother! the awful, masturbatory fever dream of David O. Russell that was all titillation, zero fascination. Suspiria, thankfully, at least has a story, albeit a thin one.
There are worse things than Drew Goddard (co-writer and director of The Cabin in the Woods, writer of The Martian and Cloverfield) doing his best Quentin Tarantino impression, but “Bad Times at the El Royale” is an earnest effort that is exceedingly long and a bit too ambitious. It’s still an entertaining film, and worthy effort, even if it would’ve been a greater movie with a few edits and someone trying to reign the director in a bit.