Suspiria

Long and indulgent and lurid with colour, like an Italian feast, Luca Guadagnino’s horror remake is out-there all right. I drank in every weird drop, as Dakota Johnson’s ambitious American ballet dancer arrives in 70s Berlin to join a mysterious troupe run by Tilda Swinton’s Madame Blanc.

The dancing has a muscular, Pina Bausch quality, and Swinton is clearly revelling in being at its centre: “It’s a hot thing we do,” she glowers. And so it is, sexy and threatening, bone-jangling and in a cold sweat. We are drawn in to the witches coven and centuries old conspiracies, the rooms close in and the mirrors crack. 

This is a film to feel and roll with, not one to question and probe for logic. Horror fans may baulk at it but I found it scary and psychologically bewildering, an overdose of baroque style descending into trips nightmare.