Sisters (1972)

Director: Brian De Palma

Cast: Margot Kidder, Jennifer Salt, Charles Durning, Bill Finley

Have I Seen it Before: Never. The film always exists just on my periphery, being a fan of De Palma’s later work as I am. Always on the lookout for more movies to cover on Beyond the Cabin in the Woods, but I have long since learned that I probably need to see the movie before I actually recommend it to the others.

Did I Like It: So, then this review attempts to tackle two questions. First, am I going to push for it to be covered by the show, and do I recommend it for the movie viewer at large. It’s entirely possible for a film to not quite live up to the horror genre entirely, but still be a necessary film, or even a film worth your time.

I’m of a somewhat conflicted mind on both questions. The film plays with slasher conventions—indeed, before the genre really exists outside of Psycho (1960)—in a way that keeps things interesting, especially for the film’s first half. If that first half had been the whole movie, you’d probably be hearing a charming back and forth unpacking the film sometime next year, but I would have already told you to go watch it.

But, unfortunately, every film that has a a strong first half has to be judged at least partially on the basis of its second half as well. The really great thrillers sell themselves on their second half, and this one becomes too jarringly unfocused to really get behind. When the film is less about a man meeting a woman to whom he’s attracted, only to find her home life to be a horror show is good. The investigative journalist who just happens to see the murder take place might feel a little clockworky, but it does deftly set up her challenge to get authorities to believe her. Then things become a little less Psycho and a little more some variation of later Halloween sequels. That might ring a little unfair, and while the final scenes are visually interesting, they can’t help but weigh down the thrills by buttressing them with excessive backstory.

Blow Out (1981)

Director: Brian De Palma

Cast: John Travolta, Nancy Allen, John Lithgow, Dennis Franz

Have I Seen It Before: Never. I’m horrified, too. The Criterion Blu Ray* has been sitting on my shelf for months.

Did I Like It: Oh, very much so. I’ll admit that I’m at something of a loss for what to say about the film as I get into the meat of this review. It’s extremely well made. It is likely the movie I would point to when someone either looks at me blankly or turns their nose up when I say that De Palma is** the heir to Hitchcock.

It’s a perfectly formed thriller. Beyond merely being laser-focused on the things a thriller needs to be to work, it is witty and surprising at every turn. De Palma got his first big break in horror through Carrie (1976), but he has a lot to say about the state of horror in the 80s, and the opening sequence says it all without saying a word at all. De Palma makes a passable Friday the 13th (1980) clone in the film’s opening minutes, only to ensure us very quickly that’s not what this film is about at all, and the film doesn’t care for those types of movies all that much, either. This is a movie that loves movies, even when they’re terrible, and I definitely feel a thematic connection to the material before I even kind of get to know Jack Terry (Travolta).

Which reminds me: you probably came here for some kind of deeper insight. I know I did. The one element I can’t quite get over in this film is Travolta himself. I’ve always found him to be far too mannered of a screen presence, as if he were preening like a peacock every time the camera finds him. Even in my favorite of his performances, Pulp Fiction (1994) and Primary Colors (1998) there’s a showiness on display that never feels quite fully authentic. Here, though through highs and lows, obsessions and boredom, Travolta just exists in the film, and it is a richer exercise for that restraint.

It’s just a good movie. If the collective aversion to any film older than 30 years is what I think it is, then you may not have seen it. You probably should.

Turns out I had more to say about the film than I thought.

*Actually the 4K/Blu Ray Combo pack, so I’m moving one step closer to eventually relenting the final frontier of physical media, even if I’m not completely certain that every motion picture was built for the highest possible resolution.

**Or, I suppose, was. I’m sure somebody has what they think is a cogent explanation for why De Palma can’t seem to get a picture together anymore, but I’m already dubious of it.

The Untouchables (1987)

Director: Brian De Palma

Cast: Kevin Costner, Sean Connery, Andy Garcia, Robert De Niro

Have I Seen it Before: Oh, sure*.

Did I Like It: I’ve been on a bit of a gangster movie kick as of late, having watched all of The Godfather films recently**, and Lora has taken to dismissing them as “Pacino De Niro Scarface movies.” I don’t know if I’d be willing to back up that assertion, but she came in and out of the room while I was watching the film, and eventually summed up her criticism of stray scenes by saying: “This film is kind of corny.”

Here, she might be on to something. Throw out a couple of truly tension-filled scenes (and even those are cribbed from Eisenstein; it’s not a vice to go watch a silent movie, folks) and there’s a movie occasionally fixated on being strangely old-fashioned. The question then becomes is that quality an earnest attempt to bring the movies back to something resembling a cop show from the 50s? Or is it a stealth commentary on that earnestness so present during those older days? I’m tempted to lean towards the latter. How could we not chuckle at a scene where Ness (Costner) and his wife (Patricia Clarkson, in her feature debut) muse about naming their new infant son after J. Edgar Hoover? Then again, how can we not collectively roll our eyes in any scene of domestic bliss when Morricone’s score positively groans under the weight of its sentimentality?

Then again, how could a movie—if even occasionally—screw up the use of a Morricone score? Is it possible I don’t like this movie… No. I do. I do.

I struggle mightily with expressing why I don’t mind all of those problems, but I don’t.

*I was definitely tempted at that moment to impart an anecdote where I once made a political speech based mostly on quotes from Sean Connery in this film. I won’t tell that story but will say: Don’t do that, but if you do, don’t worry about it. Hardly anyone will get it.

**Director’s cut on Part III, I’m not an animal.