In modern gore, it’s usually the guys that have made the Saw films, or maybe Eli Roth of Hostel fame, that get the props as blood and guts masters. But true aficionados know that for the genuine charms of horror gross out scenes without all that icky torture porn condemnations, than nobody does it better than the Italians. At the top of that list though is Dario Argento. This is a man who worked his way up from the Sergio Leone spaghetti western days to anoint himself a Master of Horror in the 70s with hits like Bird with the Glass Feathers, Deep Red, and of course Suspiria.

That last one’s important because it relates to this review of Mother of Tears, the Third Mother in a trilogy that started with Suspiria and continued through to Inferno. Now it may have taken over a quarter of a century, but we finally got the concluding chapter. The three mothers are a coven of witches that are just evil, evil, evil. The third one is unleashed on the unsuspecting populace of Rome, which immediately goes buggy with drastic severity. The only person that can stop the madness is Sarah Mandy (Asia Argento), who’s given spiritual guidance from her dead, good witch mum to stop the evil of the Mother of Tears.

Fortunately for the film illiterate one need not have seen the previous two Mothers in order to follow along with the story, so you’re free to enjoy all the gory goodness. I’m not sure the precise differences between the rated and unrated editions of this film, but I think maybe the vaginal to mouth skewering with a spear might have something to do with it. Oh man, this is not for the squeamish, but at least it’s gore with a purpose; meant to shock and make you jump rather than testing your endurance with quantity. On a visceral level, Argento’s still got it, he’s a master provocateur. The part of the film that left me reeling though was the labyrinth of endless story details.

The script seems to be in a constant state of explaining itself; the rules of the game, the history of the witches and just how exactly Sarah’s able to summon witchy powers like a clueless Hermoine Granger that’s in over her head. That’s on the one hand, on the other hand is the kind of meandering in the story as if the entire script is trying to struggle to find a point to be made. The characters are like pinballs in the machine, bouncing to and fro, from one place to the next. It seems kind of out of focus at times, with a destination in mind, but no real idea on how to get there. It’s like saying that you’re going to drive from Toronto to Montreal, but you’re not going to use a map.

Mother of Tears is extremely well made to be sure. Visually speaking, Argento is a master of his craft. He’s a wizard of gore as well creating truly cringe-worthy moments that will make the hardcore gore faithful a little squeamish. But there is a problem with access that has nothing to do with coming into the trilogy cold. To make the obvious comparison, Mother of Tears is like The Godfather III, a natural conclusion perhaps, but years after the fact was it really necessary? I think we already know the answer.