Profondo Rosso at Dario Argento’s dungeon-like museum of horror memorabilia

In 1989, Italian horror master Dario Argento founded his own horror memorabilia shop and museum, Profondo Rosso. Named after the brilliant 1975 film starring David Hemmings, the store is an unusual mix between a Forbidden Planet store, a worn-out copy of Fortean Times and a great giallo movie. Located in Rome, on the exquisite Via Dei Gracchi, just near the statue erected in memory of Totò, another great of Italian cinema, Profondo Rosso has been attracting film fans for over thirty years.

I first learned about Profondo Rosso when Mark Gatiss visited it in 2012. BBC Horror Europe documentary. Gatiss said walking around the dungeon-like museum was “a bit like walking around inside Dario’s head.” But I forgot all about it until it was mentioned more than a decade later at a dinner held in Argento’s honor at the Italian Embassy, ​​coinciding with the 2023 season. BFI Southbank.

Argento was received with admiration at this dinner, and I remember the guests waiting for the old manager to pass into the hall after dinner without anyone daring to follow him. Guests including Edgar Wright, Peter Capaldi and Alice Lowe watched as the director slowly left the room and then sat in the ambassadorial chair with the ambassador, lighting a cigarette next to a priceless painting. A fellow guest mentioned the Profondo Rosso museum and suggested I visit it if I ever go to Rome. That’s what I did.

Even from the outside, Profondo Rosso looks like an unusual place. Its bright red doors and windows stand out a mile from the street and set the tone for the blood-red theme of the furnishings inside. Its windows display a variety of items, from Argento’s artwork to masks, toys, and rare horror comics. But this barely covers the unusual range of products sold in the main store. Profondo Rosso also forms the basis of the publishing initiative of the same name. The store is overflowing with delightfully specific monographs, mostly on Argento’s films but also on Italian-style cinema as a whole. There is even a wide variety of books on esoteric, forteana and conspiracies.

What makes looking around so much fun is the uniqueness of the shop. Leaving aside her sideline in fancy dress costumes, her selection of souvenirs verges on the surreal. Shoppers can choose from thick reams of Goblin’s original soundtrack, Dario Argento ashtrays, Suspiria t-shirts and a wide variety of merchandise. DVDand even a jug of Deep Red’s unforgettable creepy doll. With the exception of Alfred Hitchcock, one of Argento’s favorites, it’s hard to imagine another director who inspired so many memories.

When you first enter the store, you are greeted by star-studded photos of manager Luigi Cozzi. Cozzi himself is no stranger to Italian genre cinema, having written the screenplay for Argento’s Four Flies on Gray Velvet (1971), having also directed numerous genre films such as Starcrash (1978) and Contamination (1980). In the sun-faded photos, Cozzi is seen with everyone from Argento to Robert Bloch to Tim Burton to Alice Cooper; They are all previous customers.

But the store isn’t the main attraction. Down the proper gothic spiral staircase is ‘Dario Argento’s Museum of Horror’. Cozzi was manning the store’s counter during my visit. Since it was early, he had to turn on the museum’s electricity. Thunderstorm sounds and a typically creepy giallo-like soundtrack erupted from the basement.

The museum is built into dungeon-like alcoves beneath the shop, all of which house a variety of objects: original posters, props, and some incredibly random horror-influenced artifacts, all interspersed with dismembered limbs. A poster from Cozzi’s The Killer Must Kill Again (1975) sits next to the annoying Sergio Stivaletti demon from Lamberto Bava’s Demons (1985). The creepy child in Argento’s Phenomena (1985) is surrounded by props from the same film (the exhibition’s narrative highlights the child’s bicycle in the film), as is the severed torso of a woman seen in Argento’s George A. Romero collaboration Two. Evil Eyes (1990) concludes the exhibition, alongside a torture cell dedicated to recreating Michele Soavi’s Church (1989).

The back of another cell is devoted to Argento’s Opera (1987), with a false rear screen creating the impression of an opera house just behind the gap in the brick wall. This was probably the Argento film that attracted the most attention in the exhibition. In fact, when I interviewed him after the embassy dinner, he said that this was the film he was truly proudest of. “It’s an explosion of invention,” he told me, “so many ideas, emotions and feelings all at once. It was a very difficult task for me. I brought a lot of elements to the opera and I think the film is definitely a must-see on the big screen.”

When I emerged into the sunlight again, the store and exhibition left me with a real sense of affection for Argento’s work in Italy and internationally. But Profondo Rosso is also a surreal and entertaining testament to Italian cinema as a whole; a kind of affectionate postcard to the past and its artistically adventurous genre cinema. And yes, I finally bought an Argento ashtray.