A young police detective, Anna Manni (Asia Argento, Dario Argento’s youngest daughter) is on the case of Alfredo Grossi (Thomas Kretschmann), a serial killer and rapist, and travels to Florence on a lead to apprehend him. She follows the trail to a museum and once inside is stricken by a sudden illness. Gazing at the paintings, she soon is overcome by a hallucinogenic state, and passes out. Once revived, Anna has no recollection of the previous events and, most alarmingly, her identity. Anna has fallen victim to a curious ailment: the Stendhal Syndrome, a disorder that causes intense pain, nausea, amnesia and identity fluctuations when viewing masterpieces of art. What’s worse, the rapist is very aware of her affliction, and uses it against her (and his other victims) to savagely rape her. Soon Anna is at odds not just with the rapist, but with the Stendhal Syndrome.

Argento’s thirteenth film is perhaps his most true-to-form film in quite some time (being bookended between two distinctly diluted efforts- 1993’s TRAUMA and 1998’s THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA). All the maestro’s obsessions are here in one form or another: outrageous plot twists and character motivations, Freudian (and Jungian) undertones, gender role examination and, of course, blistering violence. Argento also makes a more obvious step back by teaming up once again with Ennio Morricone (who provided scores for his first three films) and continuing to let his camera develop a mind of its own, with its wild, hyperkinetic mania. In effect, THE STENDHAL SYNDROME most vividly recalls four previous films: 1969’s THE BIRD WITH THE CRYSTAL PLUMAGE, 1975’s DEEP RED, 1980’s INFERNO, and 1982’s TENEBRAE.

The all-encompassing theme in the STENDHAL SYNDROME is quite clear, and has been examined numerous times before by Argento. The film suggests a certain madness and sensucht inherent in all great art, and that art is a physical representation of the artist’s tortured soul. In a way, Anna is a receptacle for this madness, and the titular syndrome thus strikes her. Like THE BIRD WITH THE CRYSTAL PLUMAGE, THE STENDHAL SYYNDROME explores the destructive causal relationship between art and the individual. While BIRD utilized this concept to provide a killer’s motivation (the viewing of a key painting triggers an emotional blitzkrieg for the killer in that film), STENDHAL uses it for the exact opposite: victimization. Once Anna views the paintings, she is a helpless plaything for Alfredo (at least at first).

But what elevates STENDHAL’s main feature past gimmick status is how Argento elaborates on the Stendhal affliction. Anna is one of Argento’s most complex characters, as she ceases to play the role of a victim early on in the film. Once the terror of rape is behind her, she attempts to facilitate her trauma by recreating the pain of her rape, and becoming manlier (taking on the more dominant male role in sexuality). She cuts her hair in a short cut. She coldly tells her boyfriend "I’m not your woman anymore." She has lost interest in sex, and gives in to her boyfriend’s amorous pursuits only if she can "fuck him like a man." She later admits to her psychologist that the idea of "being fucked" disgusts her. If she is to engage in a sexual act, then she wishes to be the aggressor, much like the rapist who is stalking her. An interesting gender study, doubly so since Argento flirted with the "Men are better/stronger than women" (and vice versa) concept in DEEP RED, as that film’s protagonist often expressed his views that "women are weaker." In fact, Asia’s role dispels many rumors of Argento’s misogyny, as Anna is a complex, strong woman. Finally, Anna falls for a French tourist named Marie. "Isn’t that a girl’s name?" she asks. He responds that in French there is no gender distinction between the name "Marie." In a way, Anna assumes the more dominant, masculine role in the relationship.

Argento’s Freudian fascination provides further points of interest for Asia’s role. Although the killer may be dead midway through the film, Anna admits to her "inner Alfredo" her id, essentially. Try as she might, Anna fights an ultimately losing battle in trying to forget her mortifying encounters. After Alfredo once again holds her captive, she tries (in vain) to cover a scar left on her face by Alfredo’s blade. She further changes her identity by adorning herself with a blond wig. She even tries to overcome her unpleasant childhood (shades of TENEBRAE’s tortured Peter Neal) by visiting her old town and family. All to no avail. Her id soon takes over in the film’s conclusion and she kills her psychiatrist. This concept of torpid anguish irrationally erupting in violence is yet another throwback to an essential gialli component. But it also reflects yet another Argento fixation: the darkness lurking in the dark abyss of everyone’s psyche. It is also worth noting another psychological concept, that of Jungian opposites. In the same key sequence of Anna’s razor slashing, Alfredo comments on the gushing water nearby, remarking that it is "pure" and asks her about when she was first pure (a virgin). Juxtapose this with the dingy, flickering candles and Argento’s interest in the "fire and water" of Jung comes into focus (however fleetingly), most extensively explored in INFERNO.

If only Asia fit the role better. Although this is indeed her most ambitious role, she is disappointingly miscast. Her elegant presence simply doesn’t work well in her role of a strong, aggressive woman. Unfortunately her weak performance causes some scenes of intensity to all but fall flat. The film also suffers from some floppy pacing, largely due to the rather indulgent 114-minute running time. The film is seldom boring, but the essential immediacy produced from the threat of the killer is loosened considerably when the killer simply ceases to exist. The result is an uneven final quarter, to say the least, and Argento’s typically knotty storyline just runs out of steam here.

Story line snarls aside though, THE STENDHAL SYNDROME has a lot going for it. Certainly, it is one of Argento’s most technically ambitious and visually arresting films. His camera is as restless and manic as ever, producing some of his most memorable and eccentric sequences (the infamous "bullet through the cheek" is indeed astounding). While it may be humbling to see even Argento submit to Hollywood CGI effects, they are ultimately tastefully incorporated. And Sergio Stivaletti (THE WAX MASK) provides some excellent makeup work. Finally, Ennio Morricone turns in one of his best scores, at times elegiac, suspenseful, and haunting, but never overly obtrusive. Even though it may not be among his very best, THE STENDHAL SYNDROME is the most Argento film Argento has directed in quite some time. Better yet, it supplies ample proof that Argento is far from stale, and that his essential obsessions continue to grow and mature.