Editorials
Revisiting Dario Argento’s ‘The Three Mothers’ Trilogy
The teaser for Luca Guadagnino’s Suspiria that dropped recently revealed a distinct departure from the vivid colored world of Dario Argento’s beloved supernatural classic. Color scheme aside, the teaser seems to be boldly declaring that this won’t be closely following the same beats of the 1977 film. While there are foundational plot elements in common, like the dance academy or that the narrative centers around dancer Susie Bannion (this time played by Dakota Johnson, and with different character spelling), the teaser gave a glimpse of a notebook with a particularly curious set of notes that gives an indication to the larger mythology that may be at play; the Three Mothers.
While waiting to see what kind of madness Guadagnino’s film has in store come November and the potential for a new trilogy based on the Three Mothers, I revisited Argento’s original trilogy to reexamine the lore behind his trio of fearsome witches.
The Three Mothers are a triad of evil, powerful witches stationed across the world to manipulate humanity on a global scale. Argento drew inspiration and the concept from Thomas De Quincey’s collection of psychological fantasy essays Suspiria de Profundis, or more specifically a section titled “Levana and Our Ladies of Sorrow,” where De Quincey envisions three companions for the Roman goddess of childbirth; Mater Lachrymarum (Our Lady of Tears), Mater Suspiriorum (Our Lady of Sighs), and Mater Tenebrarum (Our Lady of Darkness). Argento took the idea and spun it into a supernatural horror trilogy, each Mother a powerful witch receiving her own film. He also drew inspiration from his grandmother, who claimed to have fled a German music academy due to actual practicing witches that were there.
Suspiria – Mater Suspiriorum
Easily Argento’s most recognized and most beloved film, Suspiria stars Jessica Harper as Suzy Bannion, an American ballet student who transfers to a prestigious dance academy in Freiburg, Germany, and soon discovers a supernatural conspiracy amidst a string of brutal murders. Aside from the stunning vibrant colors and a progressive rock score by Goblin, Argento cleverly borrows from giallo tropes before ripping the rug out from viewers with the reveal of witchcraft.
The witch responsible for the brutal, extravagantly staged deaths in the film is the Mother of Sighs, or Mater Suspiriorum. The oldest and wisest of the Three Mothers, she remains unseen for most of the film, hidden behind a secret passage underneath the dance academy and further concealed by her coven. The final showdown between Suzy and the Mother of Sighs, given name Helena Markos, was a terrifying battle as the witch reanimated Suzy’s dead friend Sara to attack. Suzy successfully kills the Mother of Sighs, causing the dance academy to burn to the ground and her coven dying with it.
Inferno – Mater Tenebrarum
An underrated, thematic sequel to Suspiria sees its protagonist square off against the youngest and cruelest of the Three Mothers. While the colors are still present (but not nearly as intense) and the score more delicate than that of Suspiria, Argento enlisted his mentor Mario Bava for some of the effects, matte paintings, and trick shots for the film. Bava, and his son Lamberto, worked as second unit director and assistant director, respectively, picking up the reins when Argento was too ill, suffering from a severe case of hepatitis at the time. The exquisite underwater sequence near the beginning of the film can be attributed, at least in part, to Bava; this remarkable scene alone makes the film worth watching. The intense pain and suffering that Argento endured during production dampened his memories of the film; he’s cited Inferno among his least favorite works.
While the main antagonist of the film is Mater Tenebrarum, or Mother of Darkness, she’s not the only Mother in Inferno. When Rose Elliot stumbles upon an ancient book by E. Varelli that tells of his building the three homes of the Three Mothers, she realizes she’s living in the New York building belonging to one of them. She writes to her brother Mark, back in Rome, begging him to visit. Before he can read her letter, he’s distracted in class by a beautiful student, which turns out to be Mater Lachrymarum, the most beautiful and powerful of the Three Mothers. But this is Mater Tenebrarum’s movie, and Mark does eventually make his way to New York to find his sister. Of the three witches, Mater Tenebrarum’s death proves to be the most anticlimactic; after her identity is finally revealed and she turns into death personified, she passively perishes in the flames of her burning building.
The Mother of Tears – Mater Lachrymarum
Nearly 30 years after Inferno saw limited release, the conclusion of the Three Mothers trilogy finally arrived in 2007. Its modern style and aesthetic bears little resemblance to its thematic siblings, only the mythology serving as connective tissue. It’s also by far the more violent and gruesome, especially when watching the unrated cut. Visceral deaths of babies and children illustrate that this mother may be far crueler than her youngest sister.
The Mother of Tears closes the loop, reconnecting to the first film by introducing the protagonist as the daughter of a powerful white witch that fought and weakened Mater Suspiriorum prior to the events of Suspiria. That daughter, Sarah (Asia Argento) is guided by the ghost of her mother while Mater Lachrymarum grows exponentially more powerful with the unearthing of her magic cloak thanks to the Catholic Church. With widespread violence erupting across Rome, where this Mother is based, and the ever-increasing number of coven members closing in on Sarah, Argento does succeed in demonstrating that this Mother is the most powerful. As such, it builds to one of the more thrilling climaxes, with Sarah underground in the thick of the cannibalistic coven surrounding Mater Lachrymarum for one hellish showdown.
As the furthest removed from Suspiria both in look and in date, The Mother of Tears is the worst received of the trilogy. It’s also the most daring in violence, gore, and nudity. From a mythology standpoint, the final entry is faithful to the story of the Three Mothers.
Each of the witches were powerful and varied in their skills, yet all three were tethered to their specific architecture. Save for Suzy Bannion killing Mater Suspiriorum directly, the subsequent Mothers were destroyed by proxy of destroying their enchanted homes, or their objects of power. Argento created interesting supernatural lore and saw it through its completion, even if it took him three decades to finish.
That said, there’s a lot that could potentially be improved with the new reboot. After Suzy, the subsequent protagonists weren’t as developed, and the witches themselves were often built up to be horrific and fierce only to defeated fairly easily. Even still, it’s a trilogy worth revisiting.
Five decades ago, Stephen King published the story of a bullied girl with telekinetic powers and forever changed the world of horror.
Carrie follows a high school misfit who seeks revenge for a hideous prank by psychically destroying her senior prom. The name Carrie White has become synonymous with the concept of a formal dance thanks to a flawless adaptation from Brian De Palma. Now fifty years after the film’s release, Mike Flanagan is putting his own stamp on the troubling story.
Rather than a feature film, the writer/director will expand King’s relatively slim debut novel into an eight-episode miniseries for Amazon Prime set to premiere on October 7.
Flanagan is no stranger to the world of Stephen King. A long-time Constant Reader, he first made waves with his daring adaptation of Gerald’s Game (2017), a novel many fans considered un-filmable. His underrated Doctor Sleep merges the disparate plot of Stanley Kubrick’s The Shining with King’s original source material, and his 2024 genre-bending tearjerker The Life of Chuck faithfully executes one of the author’s most metaphysical novellas.
He’s currently mired in pre-production for an expansive adaptation of The Dark Tower series, keystone to King’s connected universe, and Warner Bros. recently announced that Flanagan will helm a new version of The Mist, King’s 1980 novella which sees a small Maine town overrun by otherworldly monsters.
Considering the vast array of the author’s previously unadapted material, an obvious question arises. Why reimagine Carrie in 2026? Noting the timeless nature of the content, Flanagan expressed his desire to bring the story of a bullied girl into modern times, mirroring his approach to Shirley Jackson’s The Haunting of Hill House and Edgar Allan Poe’s The Fall of the House of Usher. He explained, “The only way to approach it was to build something new out of the ingredients of Carrie. Otherwise, there’s really no purpose in trying to retread ground that’s been so beautifully walked before.”
His miniseries will maintain the novel’s bloody bookends while delivering “big surprises” along the way.
A New Prom Night Nightmare
The roughly 60-second teaser introduces Summer H. Howell as Carrie White just before the moment of catastrophe. Standing in a prom dress, she smiles at her applauding classmates with an ominous crown perched upon her head. Moments later, Carrie unleashes a rage-filled scream into the night air while promgoers rush for the exit doors. But careful examination of this scene shows Carrie wearing a different, albeit dirty dress as she seems to telekinetically punish her peers.
In an exclusive first look with Entertainment Weekly, Flanagan explains that in his version of the story, “the events of that prom are going to be completely different.” An open trunk emitting a crimson glow does hint at the pig’s blood dumped on Carrie’s head, but it’s likely Flanagan’s formal dance will be a different kind of horror altogether. Despite these changes, the series may end with the widespread destruction outlined in the source material. Unlike any previous adaptations, King’s novel ends with the near-total destruction of Chamberlain, Maine. A flaming street in Flanagan’s trailer promises similar carnage no matter what prank sparks Carrie’s deadly revenge.
The Monstrous Addition of Social Media
On the opposite end of this fiery conclusion is an extreme act of bullying that brings together the story’s main cast. King’s novel begins as Carrie gets her first period while showering in the girls’ locker room. Completely unaware of the concept of menstruation, the sheltered girl thinks she’s bleeding to death. Her classmates respond with vitriolic rage. Led by ultra-mean girl Chris Hargensen (Alison Thornton), they mock the terrified teen while pelting her with tampons. Glimpses of this disturbing event reveal that Flanagan has excised the scene’s nudity while adding a seismic update. As Carrie sobs in the shower stall, Chris and her friends film the breakdown with their phones.
Other scenes note the presence of social media, bringing King’s fifty-year-old story into the digital age.
Flanagan’s adaptation promises to explore the destructive power of social media, an often invisible entity with a potential for harm rivaling Carrie’s own powers. While King’s tormented heroine suffers in front of a small group of girls, Flanagan’s version of the incident will likely become a viral video, potentially circling the globe on social media. Similar to Katt Shea’s criminally underrated The Rage: Carrie 2, which includes elements of revenge porn exploitation, Flanagan’s modern retelling will distinguish itself by exploring the nebulous cruelty of online bullying, a force ten times more powerful than the irl pranks King first envisioned.
A Completely Reimagined White Family
In addition to modernizing these canon events, Flanagan hints at updates to Carrie’s oppressive upbringing at the hands of her mother, Margaret White (Samantha Sloyan). Dead before the novel begins, we never meet Carrie’s domineering father Ralph, known to carry a bible alongside his gun. Flanagan’s White household will be an altogether different beast. In his version of the story, Carrie and her mother have been hidden away in the unassuming home, forced out of hiding by Ralph’s unexpected death. Perhaps we will finally meet this elusive man whose shadow hangs over his wife and child. Considering the White family’s fundamentalist lifestyle, this reimagining hints at tradwife culture and a home ruled by staunch patriarchal control.
Whereas King’s Carrie has been tormented by her classmates since Kindergarten, Flanagan’s Carrie will be a wide-eyed newcomer to public school, eager to make friends and engage with her peers. We glimpse Carrie cozying up to Chris and the equally popular Sue Snell (Siena Agudong) as she navigates a new social scene. Of course, we know this kindness is part of an elaborate plot designed to lull Carrie into a false sense of camaraderie, setting up an atrocious act of public humiliation. These brief moments of feigned compassion put Sue’s own complicity into question. Will Flanagan’s version of the character find the courage to defend Carrie from vicious bullies or will she succumb to peer pressure and join in the mob mentality?
Perhaps the biggest deviation from King’s original text is the relationship between Carrie and her mother. King’s Margaret White is a horrifically abusive religious zealot whose worldview has been hardened by internalized misogyny. She shames Carrie for menstruating, locks her in a closet to “pray,” and regrets not killing her child in infancy. She’s also responsible for Carrie’s social ostracization. Known to berate her neighbors for their “sins,” Margaret forces her daughter to live by an extreme code of conduct and disallows any potential friends lest they corrupt the girl with their worldly ways.
Flanagan’s version of the character is perhaps just as much a victim as Carrie herself. Also trapped inside her home, his Margaret is overly vigilant, her own trauma manifesting as strict control. Describing a more sympathetic depiction of the iconic villain, Flanagan explains, “Our Margaret White is a woman who fiercely loves her daughter and wants to protect her from this world … [She] doesn’t know how to do that and thinks the way to protect her is to close her off; not punitively, but to create this private utopia.”
Despite this potential softening, Sloyan’s Margaret may still have a sharp edge. Though she has appeared in many Flanagan projects, from Hush (2016) to The Fall of the House of Usher (2023), she is best known for her role as the abhorrent Bev Keane in the poignant saga Midnight Mass (2021). Perhaps inspired by King’s Margaret White, Bev is pious and sadistic, willing to punish anyone who does not adhere to her warped approximation of Catholicism.
Flanagan specifically wrote Margaret with Sloyan in mind, likely remembering the actress’s eerie ability to create deceptive empathy and shift our allegiances on a dime.
Expanding Stephen King’s Telekinetic Universe
While most of King’s story deals with an unthinkable prom night in Chamberlain, Maine, large sections of the semi-epistolary novel see experts debating the nature of telekinesis. Do Carrie’s frightening abilities represent a new phase in human evolution or is the prom night carnage merely a fluke? King settles the debate with a shocking denouement in which a young mother recounts her infant daughter’s ability to dangle her crib toys in midair. We’re left to wonder if she will become another tormented girl who surprises the world with metaphysical strength.
Flanagan plans to build out this brief scene while amplifying themes of female empowerment. After introducing our main cast of characters, episode two will open with an unrelated story in which we meet another girl with the TK gene. Each subsequent chapter will expand this world, building out a roster of telekinetic young women. Considering King’s fondness for stories about powerful kids, often described as possessing “the shining,” Constant Readers will no doubt have their eyes peeled for various Easter Eggs nodding to the author’s vast catalogue.
Giving Carrie Her Own Voice
Perhaps the most striking distinction in Flanagan’s new trailer is the extent to which we hear Carrie’s voice. The sneak peek is fully narrated by the titular prom queen as she demands accountability. “I want to know why,” she explains while detailing Chris’ elaborate plan. Aside from the aforementioned coda, King’s book essentially ends with the aftermath of the prom night tragedy, leaving little time for Carrie to reflect. His shifting narrative does bring the reader into her fragile mind, though not before she’s been cowed by relentless cruelty. We watch Carrie sink into bloodthirsty revenge, but never hear a considered desire for justice or repair.
Flanagan’s original monologue allows Carrie to voice her pain and mourn the life she could have had. We’re also treated to a mug shot-style photo of Chris with a bruised and bandaged face, implying that the mean girl will have to answer for her senseless sadism.
Flanagan is known for filling his series adaptations with heartwrenching speeches that cut to the heart of his thematic intentions, and this teaser seems to follow suit. After years of fans, critics, and scholars analyzing Carrie’s pain, perhaps his modern retelling will offer the titular anti-hero a chance to finally speak for herself.
You must be logged in to post a comment.