Shocktober Revisited: Sisters

 This review originally appeared in 2010.

 Sisters, a film that arguably is the first time the signature "style" of Brian De Palma is on display, is also a precursor to his "homages" to Alfred Hitchcock*, like Dressed to Kill and Body Double, cobbling from a number of the "Master of Suspense"'s films.

 Danielle Blanchon (Margot Kidder) was born half of Siamese twins, with her sister Dominique. After being separated, Danielle pursued a career in modeling and acting, appearing on game shows like "The Peeping Tom Show" (which opens the film in a curiously race-baiting manner, both for the contestants and the audience). When Phillip Woode (Lisle Wilson) avoids the temptation of watching a "blind" woman undress, he wins a dinner for two to the even less politically incorrect "African Room" and invites Danielle (the "blind" woman) to come along (Danielle wins a set of knives). Aside from an awkward run-in with her ex-husband, Emil Breton (Bill Finley), the date goes swimmingly, and he accompanies her home to Staten Island.

 After a night of heavy petting, Phillip overhears Danielle and Dominique having and argument and accidentally knocks her medication into the sink. Phillip runs out to find the twins a birthday cake, and comes back only to be (SPOILER, I guess) stabbed in the groin by Dominique, and then viciously sliced up before scrawling "HELP" on the window in full view of investigative journalist Grace Collier (Jennifer Salt). Collier becomes obsessed first with proving the murder happened, then on uncovering the "true" story of the Blanchon twins, enlisting the help of private detective Joseph Larch (Charles Durning). What is Breton's actual relationship to Danielle and Dominique? Why aren't the police interested in the murder? And what is really going on at the institute that the Blanchon twins grew up in?

 I don't feel bad about ruining the death of Phillip Woode because if you've seen Dressed to Kill, you have some idea how the first thirty minutes of Sisters is going to play out. Hell, if you've seen Psycho, you know how both of them are going to play out, but sticking strictly to De Palma films, Dressed to Kill is likely better known than Sisters, which plays out like a grindhouse-friendly warm up for his more direct Psycho homage.

 But it isn't just Psycho that gets the nod in Sisters: there's also Rope, Rear Window, Frenzy, and a strange running gag akin to The Trouble with Harry involving Woode's final resting place - and the film's MacGuffin - a fold out couch-bed. The last shot, in fact, echoes the futility of the MacGuffin, as Joseph Larch (the Sam Loomis /Lisa Fremont stand-in) sits perched on a telephone poll, spying on an abandoned couch in a comparably abandoned Canadian train station, never to be claimed.

If it feels like I'm spoiling a lot of Sisters, really I'm not; I deliberately left out the film's "twist," which shouldn't be difficult to figure out given De Palma's penchant for Hitchcock plot turns, and I'll dance around the hallucinatory third act, which takes place in the institution and intentionally echoes Freaks or The Cabinet of Doctor Caligari in its dream sequences. It's placement in the film is rather jarring, considering the great technical lengths De Palma goes to earlier in the film (including not one, but two intricate split screen sequences), and nearly derails the picture. It kicks the Freudian overtones into overdrive and drastically switches gears from an exercise in intertextuality into an overcomplicated bundle of psycho-mumbo-jumbo before returning to a by-the-numbers murder mystery.

Which is not to say that critics with a psychoanalytical bent won't have a field day with Sisters (as they do with virtually all of De Palma's films): the almost literal "castration" of both male leads (and a more figurative form for Larch and Arthur McLennen [Barnard Hughes**], the reporter who broke the twin story) is consistent throughout the film. Dominique seems to be triggered by arousal and her weapons are always phallic (a kitchen knife, a scalpel), and Collier's general disdain for men (and her overburdening mother) eventually point her towards a safe, if unsatisfying, end.

Sisters is a bit sloppy around the edges, lacking in much of the precision evident in later Brian De Palma films, but it has a scrappy quality to it that keeps the film watchable when it teeters on incomprehensibility. It doesn't hurt that Kidder is very good as Danielle and Dominique, and Salt carries most of the film as the truth obsessed Collier. Wilson, Finley, and Durning are also believable in mostly thankless roles, and when De Palma is on, the film crackles with suspense. It's easy to see in Sisters the traces of his later, superior films, as well as his interest in incorporating Hitchcockian themes and images early on. As a horror film - which I suppose is technically why it's included this month - you could do worse, although Sisters is probably going to appeal to cinephiles more than casual viewers.

*edit* In my haste to put this up, I forgot about the Cranpire's favorite character, who will be referred to only as "The Midnight Gardener," who so inexplicably a plot device that I must assume he's a direct reference to another film. Kudos to you if you identify it in the comments!

* The debate rages on whether these are homages or rip-offs, and I don't really want to get into it here. For plenty of starting points, I refer you to Google.
** If the name doesn't ring a bell, Hughes' voice should automatically ring a bell, particularly if you remember Dumont in Tron or Grandpa in The Lost Boys.

Blogorium Review: Blow Out

(editor's note: late in the review, there is a discussion of the end of the film that would be considered a SPOILER for anyone who hasn't seen Blow Out. The section is marked, but tread cautiously if you want to see the film without knowing the ending.)


At this point, I think I appreciate Brian De Palma's "Hitchcock homage/pastiche/knock-off"'s more than I actually like them. Technically speaking, I can't fault De Palma for making consistently high quality films. Sisters, his Psycho by way of Frenzy and Rear Window, is a little raw but well put together, yet emotionally hollow. Body Double, his sort-of Vertigo / Rear Window pastiche, doesn't do much for me. My favorite is probably Dressed to Kill, a film that all but cut and pastes Psycho's structure from off the highway into the big city, but I don't really love it. Blow Out, De Palma's mash-up of Rear Window and The Man Who Knew Too Much*, is a favorite of Quentin Tarantino and has the opportunity to be a very good conspiracy thriller, but strays too far and loses its way.

Jack Terry (John Travolta) is a sound editor for low budget horror films in Philadelpha, Pennsylvania. While out recording sound effects for the newest slasher-schlockfest, Terry accidentally records an accident that runs a car into the creek nearby and kills Governor McRyan (John Hoffmeister), a potential Presidential candidate. Terry manages to rescue Sally (Nancy Allen), the woman in the car with McRyan, but is advised by the police and the Governor's staff to "forget she was there," because her presence implicates infidelity. While listening to his audio recording, Jack becomes convinced that the tire blow out was preceded by a gunshot, and that the "accident" was in fact an assassination. The trouble is, no one believes Terry. He tracks down Sally and appeals to her to provide him the footage that sleazy private investigator Manny Karp (Dennis Franz), who she works for, in order to prove that McRyan's death is a cover-up, and get the synced footage to reporter Jack Donahue (Curt May). Otherwise, he and Sally might be the next victims.

Blow Out opens with a send-up of slashers movies - in particular, Halloween and Black Christmas - with a first perspective shot of the killer stalking a dormitory, revealed to be one of the cheap-o horror movies Terry works on. The film-within-a-film becomes a running subplot in Blow Out, and its role in the movie hurts the film more than helps. In many ways, it seems like De Palma is critiquing slasher films, saying "Oh, you want a real unstoppable, invisible stalker that kills with impunity? Watch this!" And he provides one, the "clean-up" man for the conspirators, Burke (John Lithgow).

Where De Palma falters is his own attachment to Burke, who inexplicably moves the film away from Terry's perspective and explicitly states the conspiracy IS real. The first time we see Burke, he replaces the tire with a bullet hole, then stalks a young woman that looks like Sally and murders her, and before moving on to Sally and Jack, he calls one of the conspirators and confirms that he murdered McRyan, even though they asked him NOT to.

The central failing of Blow Out is that conspiracy thrillers are more effective when they stick close to the main character. Much of the suspense is derived from wanting the protagonist to be right about the cover-up, but not being sure until the third act. Look at Rear Window, Arlington Road, Winter Kills, The Manchurian Candidate, or Blow-Up. Openly acknowledging that there IS a conspiracy and that everything Jack thought happened DID happen robs us of any suspense. It doesn't help that Francis Ford Coppola made a much better film with a similar storyline, The Conversation, seven years before Blow Out.

Blow Out is technically adept, well shot by Vilmos Zsigmond, edited by Paul Hirsch, and has - as it should - fine sound mixing. The only thing I can fault De Palma for in the construction of Blow Out is the original music by Pino Donaggio. The music is all over the map: sometimes a thriller, sometimes romantic, and there's an "action" theme that plays while Jack is racing to the Liberty Bell Celebration that seems like it belongs in another movie.

I can't necessarily fault the actors: Travolta is very good, and his mounting frustration that no one cares about his evidence is muted by the ending of the film (more on that in a moment); Dennis Franz makes the best of a tiny role as Manny Karp, a character that ought to be more important to the story than he is; Lithgow really gets to shine as Burke, a character that De Palma spends considerably more camera time on as the film continues; only Nancy Allen gets left out in the cold as Sally, a character that underscores the cynical, disingenuous tone that finally cripples an otherwise well made thriller.

In addition to his proclivity for "borrowing" from Hitchcock, De Palma has been consistently criticized for a misogynistic treatment of women. Blow Out doesn't help any case against De Palma: there are only three women in the film that make any impression on the audience. One is Sally, who Karp pays to sleep with men in order to take sordid photos for blackmail; the other is a prostitute in the Philadelphia bus station; the last one is dressed like a prostitute, and we're made to think she's Sally, until Burke chokes her and stabs her with an ice pick in order to "create" a serial killer to cover his murders. In the end (SPOILER ALERT BEGINS HERE) all three are dead, which brings me to the ending.

De Palma may have been attempting to create a more "realistic," more downbeat ending for Blow Out by killing Sally, destroying Manny's film, and leaving Jack with the audio of Sally's wire, but he completely blows it with a cynical, distasteful closing scene. The subplot of finding a good "screamer" to loop into the horror film is an incongruously comedic thread in Blow Out, but Jack using Sally's final screams for help in the film smacks of cynicism rather than tragedy, which De Palma desperately tries to close the film with. (SPOILER ALERT ENDS HERE)

I don't really hate Blow Out; it's a very well made film, and it works in fits and spurts, even if it stumbles here and there. Had the film stuck with Jack Terry and allowed the suspense to build without the benefit of knowing that the almost-all-powerful Burke was tracking his every move (and telling the audience what he would do next), it's possible Blow Out could be a classic, misogyny aside**. As it is, I left the film feeling impressed, but hollow. A director that talented should be able to provide more than well-executed films with weak stories, so I remain on the fence with Brian De Palma.



* With nods to non-Hitchcock films Blow Up and Peeping Tom.
** If you can really put it aside, but with De Palma it's nearly impossible to watch his films without doing so.

Blogorium Review: Sisters

Sisters, a film that arguably is the first time the signature "style" of Brian De Palma is on display, is also a precursor to his "homages" to Alfred Hitchcock*, like Dressed to Kill and Body Double, cobbling from a number of the "Master of Suspense"'s films.

Danielle Blanchon (Margot Kidder) was born half of Siamese twins, with her sister Dominique. After being separated, Danielle pursued a career in modeling and acting, appearing on game shows like "The Peeping Tom Show" (which opens the film in a curiously race-baiting manner, both for the contestants and the audience). When Phillip Woode (Lisle Wilson) avoids the temptation of watching a "blind" woman undress, he wins a dinner for two to the even less politically incorrect "African Room" and invites Danielle (the "blind" woman) to come along (Danielle wins a set of knives). Aside from an awkward run-in with her ex-husband, Emil Breton (Bill Finley), the date goes swimmingly, and he accompanies her home to Staten Island.

After a night of heavy petting, Phillip overhears Danielle and Dominique having and argument and accidentally knocks her medication into the sink. Phillip runs out to find the twins a birthday cake, and comes back only to be (SPOILER, I guess) stabbed in the groin by Dominique, and then viciously sliced up before scrawling "HELP" on the window in full view of investigative journalist Grace Collier (Jennifer Salt). Collier becomes obsessed first with proving the murder happened, then on uncovering the "true" story of the Blanchon twins, enlisting the help of private detective Joseph Larch (Charles Durning). What is Breton's actual relationship to Danielle and Dominique? Why aren't the police interested in the murder? And what is really going on at the institute that the Blanchon twins grew up in?

I don't feel bad about ruining the death of Phillip Woode because if you've seen Dressed to Kill, you have some idea how the first thirty minutes of Sisters is going to play out. Hell, if you've seen Psycho, you know how both of them are going to play out, but sticking strictly to De Palma films, Dressed to Kill is likely better known than Sisters, which plays out like a grindhouse-friendly warm up for his more direct Psycho homage.

But it isn't just Psycho that gets the nod in Sisters: there's also Rope, Rear Window, Frenzy, and a strange running gag akin to The Trouble with Harry involving Woode's final resting place - and the film's MacGuffin - a fold out couch-bed. The last shot, in fact, echoes the futility of the MacGuffin, as Joseph Larch (the Sam Loomis /Lisa Fremont stand-in) sits perched on a telephone poll, spying on an abandoned couch in a comparably abandoned Canadian train station, never to be claimed.

If it feels like I'm spoiling a lot of Sisters, really I'm not; I deliberately left out the film's "twist," which shouldn't be difficult to figure out given De Palma's penchant for Hitchcock plot turns, and I'll dance around the hallucinatory third act, which takes place in the institution and intentionally echoes Freaks or The Cabinet of Doctor Caligari in its dream sequences. It's placement in the film is rather jarring, considering the great technical lengths De Palma goes to earlier in the film (including not one, but two intricate split screen sequences), and nearly derails the picture. It kicks the Freudian overtones into overdrive and drastically switches gears from an exercise in intertextuality into an overcomplicated bundle of psycho-mumbo-jumbo before returning to a by-the-numbers murder mystery.

Which is not to say that critics with a psychoanalytical bent won't have a field day with Sisters (as they do with virtually all of De Palma's films): the almost literal "castration" of both male leads (and a more figurative form for Larch and Arthur McLennen [Barnard Hughes**], the reporter who broke the twin story) is consistent throughout the film. Dominique seems to be triggered by arousal and her weapons are always phallic (a kitchen knife, a scalpel), and Collier's general disdain for men (and her overburdening mother) eventually point her towards a safe, if unsatisfying, end.

Sisters is a bit sloppy around the edges, lacking in much of the precision evident in later Brian De Palma films, but it has a scrappy quality to it that keeps the film watchable when it teeters on incomprehensibility. It doesn't hurt that Kidder is very good as Danielle and Dominique, and Salt carries most of the film as the truth obsessed Collier. Wilson, Finley, and Durning are also believable in mostly thankless roles, and when De Palma is on, the film crackles with suspense. It's easy to see in Sisters the traces of his later, superior films, as well as his interest in incorporating Hitchcockian themes and images early on. As a horror film - which I suppose is technically why it's included this month - you could do worse, although Sisters is probably going to appeal to cinephiles more than casual viewers.

*edit* In my haste to put this up, I forgot about the Cranpire's favorite character, who will be referred to only as "The Midnight Gardener," who so inexplicably a plot device that I must assume he's a direct reference to another film. Kudos to you if you identify it in the comments!

* The debate rages on whether these are homages or rip-offs, and I don't really want to get into it here. For plenty of starting points, I refer you to Google.
** If the name doesn't ring a bell, Hughes' voice should automatically ring a bell, particularly if you remember Dumont in Tron or Grandpa in The Lost Boys.