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source: Dressed to Kill

Trailer—Dressed to Kill

Dressed to Kill

"Dressed To Kill", is one of the best thrillers ever made. Its dealings with sex and violence make this a film for adults. Brian De Palma, once again, proves why no other director can match his use of the camera to tell a story. He directs many scenes without dialog, and he tells much of his story, strictly through the use of his visuals, and Pino Donnagio's brilliant score. Filmed in Panavision, the film MUST be seen in widescreen, as De Palma uses the entire width of the film to tell his story. Cropped, on video, "Dressed To Kill", is barely the same movie. Solid performances from its cast, superb direction, and, perhaps, the finest film score ever written, make "Dressed To Kill" a must see.

On the surface, this is pretty much just De Palma remaking Psycho, but it's the way he decides to tell the story, where he tells the story, and who populates his story that make the film unique. Angie Dickinson's performance is remarkably understated and brilliant and is the heart of the film. Nancy Allen is just as great as the unapologetic prostitute who's comfortable in her skin and gets involved in a murder investigation after witnessing a murder and being named a suspect.

A call-girl witnesses a murder and becomes the killer's next target. Director Brian De Palma is really on a pretentious roll here: his camera swoops around corners in a museum (after lingering a long time over a painting of an ape), divvies up into split screen for arty purposes, practically gives away his plot with a sequence (again in split screen) where two characters are both watching a TV program about transsexuals, and stages his (first) finale during a thunderous rainstorm. "Dressed To Kill" is exhausting, primarily because it asks us to swallow so much and gives back nothing substantial. Much of the acting (with the exception of young Keith Gordon) is mediocre and the (second) finale is a rip-off of De Palma's own "Carrie"--not to mention "Psycho". The explanation of the dirty deeds plays like a spoof of Hitchcock, not an homage. Stylish in a steely cold way, the end results are distinctly half-baked. ** from ****