Author’s note: This review is part of a write-off between myself, ZentropaJK, Mangiotto, Psychovant, and Energy81. Please be sure to check out their articulate and astute reviews.
Director Nicolas Roeg (The Man who Fell to Earth, Walkabout) is one of those filmmakers that has sadly been neglected by most filmgoers. Over the years, he compiled a fairly impressive (although, to be fair, a bit uneven as well) body of work, yet he’s received relatively little acclaim. In some ways, Roeg’s an unlucky filmmaker—much like the late Mario Bava—meaning that even when his work has been brilliant, something has come along and conspired to overshadow it…and I can think of no greater example of this than Roeg’s 1973 film, Don’t Look Now. DLN had all the visual and stylistic earmarkings of a supernatural classic, yet it went largely ignored as American film audiences found themselves wrapped up in The Exorcist’s mass hysteria—a shame, really, because I find Roeg’s film to be just as well conceived and executed as Friedkin’s masterwork.
Based on a story by Daphne Du Maurier, Don’t Look Now tells a relatively simple tale. John Baxter (Donald Sutherland: JFK, Invasion of the Bodysnatchers) is an architect who specializes in renovating old European churches. After the drowning death of his daughter, Baxter and his wife Laura (Julie Christie: Doctor Zhivago) head for Venice—where John is working on renovating a decaying cathedral.
While in Venice, Laura has a chance encounter with two sisters, Wendy and Heather. Heather is blind, yet possesses the gift of second sight. She informs Laura that their dead little girl is ok, but that they must leave Venice at once—that they’re in some kind of danger. John, who’s more than a bit skeptical, doesn’t heed the advice—and it may end up costing the Baxter’s their lives.
I’ve purposely kept the plot summary both vague and brief because to say too much about the events could potentially ruin the film for you. DLN is something you almost have to experience—and anything that gives you a preconceived notion about the film ultimately hurts the viewing experience. Hopefully, there’s enough about the plot to arouse your curiousity, but not so much that you feel you know how the film will play out.
Ultimately, it’s hard to classify a film like this one—on the surface, it seems to be a mystery with some supernatural overtones. Yet, underneath that slick veneer, you see that the film is also about relationships, how we interact with one another, and how the grieving process works. For most films, this multi-pronged focus would be too much to sustain—leading to one area or another being underdeveloped—but not here. Roeg does a fantastic job of balancing all the disparate narrative elements from the script…and it results in a film that becomes increasingly more disjointed, surreal, and ethereal as it progresses. The film has a tapestry-like quality, with Roeg using compressed time sequences, weird intercuts, a truckload of symbolism, disjointed narrative, and a rising sense of paranoia to weave his web of intrigue. The effect is quite stunning—but also more than a bit confounding until you reach the ending scenes.
Which brings me to another point…DLN is an intriguing film, but one that requires a great deal of patience from its audience. The pace is best described as plodding, and the use of the aforementioned narrative techniques makes for a film that isn’t always easily understandable. There are no explosions here, and Roeg doesn’t spoon-feed everything to you—if you want the film to work, you have to work too…Roeg’s willing to meet you halfway, but you’ve got to do your part as well. If a film that requires you to think and be patient isn’t your cup of tea, take my advice and skip this movie.
However, for those of us with the diligence to stick with the film, DLN is a very rewarding cinematic experience. Roeg’s direction vacillates between subtle and nuanced in some scenes and overt and discordant in others—all of which adds to the rising sense of tension we as an audience feel as the film progresses. Much like Italian auteur Dario Argento (who Roeg reminds me of—at least with his work here), Roeg has a real gift for taking the mundane and making it appear menacing. The Venice in this film is one that we’re only vaguely familiar with—yes, the canals and boats are there, but it’s a quiet place where the people all seem to stare at Baxter as if he were marked and all the buildings loom claustrophobically around you. At first, the audience writes this off—but as the film moves along, you find yourself becoming increasingly more disturbed and paranoid—even though there’s nothing happening on the screen to actually justify those feelings.
As I mentioned earlier, there are a lot of symbolic scenes and ideas here in the film. To get into all of it would require a thesis length review, so I’ll just point out a few of the most recurring or interesting things here.
Water plays a very important role in the film as both a symbol and a foreshadowing element as well. Baxter’s daughter drowns in the film’s opening, Laura passes out and pulls a table down on top of her, spilling quite a bit of water, and Venice is a city of canals, where the main mode of transportation is by boat. What does all this mean? Like all good symbolism, that’s open to interpretation. The main thing is, notice that it’s there throughout the film.
Baxter’s profession (architect) is also an interesting choice. Here, we have a man who restores broken or damaged buildings, yet he seems to be having a great deal of difficulty rebuilding his life after the death of his child.
Eyes also seem to play a vital, recurring role in the film…particularly the cataract-covered eyes of the psychic Heather. It’s an interesting juxtaposition to think that the blindest of all the characters is the one who sees the most—an irony that’s not lost on most audiences, I’m sure.
Finally, there’s the scene with Donald Sutherland piecing together a mosaic high on the wall of a church. Sutherland puts piece after piece together, forming the face of a woman, but before he can complete it, a pole comes crashing down from above—knocking apart the scaffolding and nearly sending Sutherland to his death.
The film also features some great performances, particularly Sutherland and Christie. You can’t read a review of this film without hearing about the lovemaking scene in the movie, and I suppose I might as well mention it here as well. This scene, where Sutherland and Christie have sex in their hotel room, is prime example of how powerful these two actors' performances are in the film. There’s none of that perfunctory film-style sex here, instead there’s something that resembles real passion (and there have been more than a few rumors over the years that this scene wasn’t entirely acting—if you know what I mean). Still, what really sets this sequence apart is the way Roeg has chosen to intercut the sex footage with scenes of the two main characters getting dressed and preparing to go to dinner afterwards. Visually, it’s an arresting scene—with images of intense passion placed next to the mundane real world—but it works to create the illusion that these characters are not only real people, but a genuine husband and wife.
In the end, you could write a book about this film—it’s rich and layered and nuanced, and it doesn’t easily lend itself to a short or even full-length film review…there’s just too much subtext to consider and explore to write a thousand word summation that covers all the bases. However, take my word for it…Don’t Look Now is a masterpiece of ‘thinking man’ cinema. If you found films like Jacob’s Ladder thought provoking and entertaining, then you’ll be sure to enjoy this movie.
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