Review of Don't Look Now (1973) by Julian H — 12 Jan 2014

One of the few films to ever burrow so deeply inside of me, Nicolas Roeg's masterful DON'T LOOK NOW is not only one of the great under-your-skin chillers but also one of the greatest syntheses of cinema and psychology ever committed to celluloid.

In fact, I admit that upon seeing this film for the first time in college, I was so stunned and taken aback by the raw and naked emotion in the film that, after seeing its now infamous final moments, turned my back from the movie in anger.

I looked at what the film did as cheating, whatever that was supposed to mean. The shock of the movie's red-spotted finale was immediately terrifying to me, but what lingered much longer was the film's uncanny sense of dread, its indescribable exploration of grief and memory and its carnal examination of two human beings who truly and deeply love each other, despite the enclosing tragedy of their lives.

Roeg's technique here is quite frankly something that every filmmaker dreams of, and almost no filmmaker achieves; the story on paper- a damp and chilly adaptation of Daphne du Maurier's novella- is quite different than the one told here by Roeg with color, skin, elements and darkness.

He uses- as more directors ought to- the logic not of cinema's foundation but instead of the mind, injecting his storytelling with the whims of memory. Images and sounds trigger flashbacks and premonitions, and even utter hallucinations and paranoia just as they do to the human mind.

Roeg teases us: "Don't look now". It's as if he's giving us fair warning, not everything is the way we might perceive it, not every puzzle is without its missing pieces. And what players Roeg found! I challenge anyone to witness the now-legendary lovemaking scene between Donald Sutherland and Julie Christie and not be moved, not believe entirely- without hearing a word- in their love for one another.

It helps that both actors deliver the performances of their careers, giving themselves wholly to the material; they trust Roeg enough to simply become the characters, and seem as blind to the story's sick joke as we are.

This is one of the only films made that not only warrants repeat viewings- it demands them. Like muscle memory, this is a film to learn from, come back to. There are more twisted secrets hidden in these dark Venice streets than one can process in a single trip, and, in the same way the plot works, one can't process the what's right before his eyes until it's much too late.