31 Days of Halloween: Twin Lenses of Poe

Two Evil Eyes (1990)
******* (7 out of 10 stars)
Directors: George A. Romero, Dario Argento
Producer: Achille Manzotti
Starring: Adrienne Barbeau, Harvey Keitel, Ramy Zada

“All that you see here is a result of your heart, your soul, and your conscience.” – Valdemar

The Review:

Welcome, my dear fellow travelers upon the eerie planes of cinema, to a labyrinthine tale where the haunting whispers of Edgar Allan Poe serve not as the foundation, but as the muse. Two Evil Eyes offers not a devout tribute to its literary progenitor but rather a platform for the darkly distinctive imaginations of two cinematic titans, George A. Romero and Dario Argento. Together, they craft a chilling duet of stories that diverge wildly in tone, yet intertwine in their macabre intention.

Yes, there are echoes of Poe breathing through these tales. But to those expecting a puritanical homage, be warned. This is not a shrine to Poe’s ink-stained masterpieces; it is a theater for Romero and Argento’s unique visions of terror. To me, this shift in focus is part of its strange magic, a melding of classic inspiration and modern horror sensibilities.

The first tale, The Facts in the Case of Mr. Valdemar, helmed by Romero, is a more traditional dalliance with horror. It unfolds like a suspenseful symphony of ghostly revenge, drenched in sinister atmospheres and chilling silence. Adrienne Barbeau delivers a fine performance, her character descending into a shadowy web of greed and consequence. It may feel familiar to some, yet its construction is solid, its chills effective.

The second entry, The Black Cat, is where Argento steps into the spotlight, and oh, what a fever dream he conjures. Here, the influence of Giallo is undeniable. Stylized, visceral, and shocking, it presents an exaggerated tapestry of dread that crescendos into chaos. Harvey Keitel, in all his intensity, hurls himself into the role, providing the kind of disturbing performance that sears itself into your mind. This tale carves sharper, more jagged angles than its counterpart, and yet, I found both chapters of Two Evil Eyes equally compelling in their own ways.

Critics have groaned that the pairing feels disjointed, that the gulf between Romero’s subtle terror and Argento’s flamboyant grotesqueries is too vast. But I ask you, isn’t contrast part of what makes a work like this so fascinating? The juxtaposition of the slow, creeping dread of the first story against the violent, operatic unraveling of the second invites viewers to grasp horror in its multifaceted glory.

No, this is not the scariest entry in the annals of cinema. Nor does it seek to be. It is, rather, a bold experiment, daring to blend the spectral with the visceral. And while its imperfections are apparent, its ambition is undeniable. Like a haunted house with erratic thrills, it lures you onward, eager for the next twist.

To the horror enthusiasts among you, I say this: Two Evil Eyes is well worth your time. Yes, it deviates from Poe’s shadowy corridors, and yes, it is imperfect in its execution. But in these imperfections lies an opportunity to witness two masters of the macabre at play. While this film may not be for everyone, it has carved a place for itself in the chilling pantheon of cinematic experiments.

Enter if you dare, and revel not just in fear, but in the audacious visions that only the horror genre dares to offer. For once seen, these Two Evil Eyes are not easily forgotten.