body double

Of the much-heralded crop of ‘70s directors – Scorsese, Spielberg, and Coppola among them – to emerge from the ruins of the studio system, Brian De Palma seems the least significant by critical comparison. Perhaps because he was labeled more of an “imitator” than an “innovator”; lifting the themes, characters, music and wholesale camera movements of Alfred Hitchcock to elevate his career. Even the harshest critic couldn’t argue that De Palma’s work is technically wondrous to behold. But just as often, the material on the page couldn’t compete with what he was doing with his camera.

Body Double (1984) followed the commercially successful but equally controversial Scarface (1983) which found the director in the familiar position of defending his supposed endorsement of racism, misogynism and overt on-screen violence. It was a return to the Hitchcockian thriller format that served him quite well in Dressed to Kill and Blow Out. But, perhaps as a snide sort of revenge for all that critical shellacking, De Palma takes the film even further out on a ledge of sex, violence and directorial homages.

Set in Hollywood among the familiar sights and sound of excess-addicted 1980s Los Angeles, Jake Scully (Craig Wasson) is a struggling actor who’s just lost his job, his girlfriend and all his self-confidence in less than 24 hours. He’s thrown a lifeline by fellow actor, Sam Bouchard (Gregg Henry), who hooks him up with a housesitting gig in a futuristic Beverly Hill bachelor pad.

Before he leaves Sam points out the telescope trained to peep on his gorgeous next-door neighbor, who performs a striptease nightly. His interest piqued, for obvious reasons, Jake begins to follow the woman (played by Deborah Shelton) and notices a mysterious figure who seems to be staking out her house.

With the stage set, De Palma then unleashes a half-hour plus sequence of pure cinematic storytelling, blending bits of Vertigo and Rear Window with the same self-flagellating sarcasm about the filmmaking industry he introduced in Blow Out, complete with movie-within-a-movie send-ups (Dennis Franz makes a great sleazeball director) and digs at the acting profession in general.

One of De Palma’s least appreciated skill sets is his sense of humor, which flies right over the heads of those only paying attention to the machinations of the meager plots. Body Double only truly realizes its potential in the final 30 minutes or so with the introduction of Melanie Griffith as “Holly Body,” an eminent porn star who sends the movie spinning into an entirely different direction and adds a much needed dose of feminine superiority (despite the fact that she’s unclothed for much of it). As the film descends into the corny but colorful world of the adult film business, Body Double suddenly becomes an entertaining spoof of exactly the sort of films De Palma made his reputation on… and the artistic pretensions that his fellow ‘70s filmmakers swallowed hook, line and sinker.

Twilight Time’s blu-ray - limited to 3,000 copies, all of which are apparently sold out – is a nice follow up to their previous De Palma release, The Fury. The first few minutes look a little rough (or perhaps that’s the old-school rear screen projection shots that open the film), but quickly shape up into a superior hi-def transfer. Not one of De Palma’s more visually complex films, the new version nevertheless benefits from beautifully enhanced colors during the Frankie Goes to Hollywood segment and an overall boost in clarity. Perhaps in response to some internet criticism of their own, Twilight Time has carried over the extras from the standard-def release (a grouping of four featurettes) and included their usual isolated score track: a superlative contribution from Pino Donaggio.