Nicolas Roeg, 1973
Starring: Julie Christie,
Donald Sutherland
After their beloved young daughter accidentally drowns to
death, John and his wife Laura retreat to Venice. John has been hired for a church restoration
project and he and Laura attempt to process their profound grief. Two sisters,
the blind Heather and Wendy, convince Laura that Heather is psychic and can see
their daughter; she is happy in the afterlife. She also warns Laura that John
is in danger and should leave Venice. At first John is enraged by what he
thinks is his wife’s stubborn delusion, but begins to see a small figure clad
in a red raincoat – the same thing his daughter wore when she died – running around
Venice. Meanwhile, bodies are turning up around the city, dumped in the canal.
Their son has an accident back
at his boarding school in England and Laura briefly sets off, though John is
convinced he later sees her on a funeral barge in the canals. In a panic and
fearing for her mental health, he searches for Laura and the two women. The
police come to suspect he may be the killer and he again spies the figure clad
in a red raincoat running through the streets. It turns out that Laura was in
England all along and is soon on her way back, as their son is fine. After
briefly meeting up with the two sisters, John escorts them back to their hotel,
but spies the red-cloaked figure one last time. He is unable to avoid following
it into the night, though Heather is convinced something terrible is about to
happen to him…
This British and Italian co-production was director Nicolas
Roeg’s third film after the acclaimed Performance,
a crime drama starring Mick Jagger, and
Walkabout, a desolate tale of two
siblings stranded in the Outback. Though Don’t
Look Now is generally taken as a horror film, it’s a bit more slippery with
elements of drama and melancholy throughout. Regardless, death haunts nearly
every scene and, more than anything else, this is a movie about two people’s
attempts to deal with loss and grief.
The script was adapted from a short story of the same
name by Daphne du Maurier, who supposedly wrote it while suffering from the
grief of ending a romantic relationship. Du Maurier rose to international
renown when Alfred Hitchcock adapted two of her novels – Rebecca and The Birds –
and Don’t Look Now certainly has a
Hitchcockian feel. John’s character has shades of the “wrong man” trope that
Hitchcock was so fond of, particularly when Venetian authorities begin to
believe he’s responsible for the local murders. Another Hitchcockian aspect of
the film is the constant sense of seeing incorrectly, mistaken identities, and
visual misunderstandings. Doubles are also everywhere, for John, his wife, and
their daughter, in drawings, photographs, reflections, visions, and in physical
doubles.
There are some unnerving scenes of suspense and horror –
particularly surrounding the mysterious figure in the red coat – and an underlying
occult theme. It’s giallo-like, despite the lack of graphic murders, and
reminded me of Italian films Who Saw Her
Die? and Fulci’s The Psychic. Aldo
Lado’s Who Saw Her Die? concerns a sculptor
and his beautiful wife whose daughter (she has bright red hair instead of a red
coat) is the victim of a killer loose in the city. Central to the mystery is a
priest and a woman wearing a funeral veil. Also set in Venice, this film came
out a year before Don’t Look Now and
seems somewhat of an obvious influence, though Don’t Look Now is the superior film. Fulci’s The Psychic (1977) has a similar gray tone with brief splashes of
color and concerns the occult, psychic premonitions, and the unshakable sense
that something terrible is going to happen to the film’s protagonist.
The film benefits from strange, dreamlike editing and use
of reoccurring imagery. The editing gives viewers the sense that there is no
real, solid separation between past, present, and future. The reoccurring imagery
– mostly of water, the color red, and shots of broken glass – are relentless
and unsettling. Red, first solely to represent the dead daughter’s raincoat,
seeps its way into the film little by little. There are some incredibly shots of
Venice from cinematographer Anthony B. Richmond. The set is eerily quiet and
devoid of people; everything is washed over with a rainy, foggy, gray tone. Venice’s
winding streets and canals feel labyrinthine and prison-like at times.
Venice is the perfect setting; their daughter’s death by
drowning is emphasized by constant visual references to water. In the “City of
Love,” as it is known, and the city of canals, the references to their child’s
death and, conversely, to romantic love, is inescapable. Roeg continues this
throughout the film, alternating references to desire and sex, loss and death.
Donald Sutherland and Julie Christie give two of their best on screen
performances here, perfectly conveying a realistic marriage. Their sex scene,
which made the film infamous for years, is graphic, but never exploitative. There
is a sex where John performs oral sex on his wife – then unheard of in
mainstream cinema and barely represented today – and the sex scene was long
rumored to be real, unsimulated sex between Sutherland and Christie.
The blend of ghosts, death, horror, and eroticism is
subtle and effective. There is undeniably something unsettling about the film,
a feeling of wrongness that you can’t quite put your finger on. The surprise
ending may rub some viewers the wrong way and this is certainly a film that
deserves repeat viewings. On one hand, it can be viewed as Roeg slamming
together two storylines – John and Laura’s grief with the serial killer loose
in Venice – which does feel jarring and implausible. On the other hand, this is
too dreamlike a film to take such things literally and instead it feels like
John’s final nightmare, the culmination of his emotional life since the death
of his daughter.
Don’t Look Now
is available
on DVD and comes with the highest possible recommendation. Whether or not
you are a fan of horror, the film is a must-see and ranks as one of Roeg’s best
works. It is especially worth seeing for fans of Lars von Trier’s Antichrist, as there are many obvious
similarities between the two films, or anyone interested in cinematic
examinations of grief and loss, as it is surely one of the finest.
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