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Nicolas Roeg's third film--after the brash PERFORMANCE (1970) and meditative WALKABOUT (1971)--is a haunting thriller that confirmed the director's status as a true visionary. Based on a story by Daphne Du Maurier, DON'T LOOK NOW follows a grieving English couple to Venice, where the past continues to plague them. John Baxter (Donald Sutherland) and his wife Laura (Julie Christie) are in mourning for their young daughter, who drowned tragically near their home. John takes a job in Venice so that the couple can leave the past behind, but, unfortunately, the past is not easily forgotten. While John begins to see unsettling visions of a young girl in a red coat running through the Venice streets, Laura learns from an elderly psychic that her husband is in grave danger. What follows is an eerie, erotic mystery that builds to a shockingly horrific climax. DON'T LOOK NOW is one of the most daring and influential motion pictures of the 1970s. From Pino Donaggio's atmospheric score to Graeme Clifford's elliptical editing (exemplified in the film's notorious sex scene), Roeg's film is a stylistic achievement. Sutherland and Christie are their typical phenomenal selves playing the bereaved, devastated couple. |
It would be hard to better the credits for this frantic French farce. Shot by Jean Renoir's nephew, Claude, and with a score by France's finest film composer, Georges Auric, it is directed with gleeful assurance by Gérard Oury, a former member of the world-famous Comédie-Française. The stars are our own Terry-Thomas, the gently comedic Bourvil and practised farceur Louis De Funès, perhaps best known here for the Gendarme of St Tropez series. Why, then, does this story of an RAF pilot sheltered from the incompetent Nazis by the Resistance manage to be less funny than an episode of 'Allo, 'Allo?
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Halliwell's Film Guide
A macabre short story has become a puzzling piece of high cinema art full of vague suggestions and unexplored avenues. Whatever its overall deficiencies, it is too brilliant in surface detail to be dismissed. Depressingly but fascinatingly set in wintry V