Attempting to recover from his failed marriage to Rita Hayworth and restart his career, Orson Welles travels to Italy only to be drawn into a dangerous web of intrigue, murder and politics when an actor is murdered on his set.
The ambitious Betsy is happy: she gets promoted to a leading management position. Her happiness is spoiled only a little by problems with a boyfriend who feels neglected and an harassing ... See full summary »
Arthur Allan Seidelman
Jack Brenner is a hot-shot cop on the trail of a serial killer known as The Roper. Just as he's getting close to catching the killer, he is injured and develops amnesia. Dr. Molly Nostrand ... See full summary »
After she has a nervous breakdown, a wife and her husband move into a new house. However, she begins to suspect that that her husband and his sister, who is visiting, are up to something ... See full summary »
A woman is murdered one evening, and her husband's best friend, having apparently gone crazy after the birth of his brain-damaged son, is suspected as the killer - but is he? What actually happened that night?
Peter Short, the charismatic CEO of a major Australian company, learns that he has only months to live after he is diagnosed with terminal oesophageal cancer. Not wanting to face a painful ... See full summary »
What kind of a show? Well, let's use something that history shows us will succeed. But let's not imitate one of Hitchcock's best films. That would be wrong -- also it would be obvious. So let's imitate Brian DePalma imitating Hitchcock. Two sure-fire winners. How can we go wrong?
I'm sympathetic to the protagonist, a red-bearded ordinary-looking social anthropologist, because I are one myself. And I am sympathetic too to Heather Locklear's character as the victim. Not because she earns any sympathy but just because she looks so good in skin-tight white slacks bending over to make the bed that any normal man would immediately want to attack her and squeeze and bite her.
Boy is this stuff recycled. It should receive The Palm from The Nature Conservancy. Let me see. Busfield, the anthropologist who likes to videotape people to study their movements, captures on film by chance a murder being committed across the courtyard of his apartment complex. We're in "Rear Window" territory here. But the victim is not the apartment's owner, Locklear, who turns out to be alive but in danger from her boyfriend, who has a habit of clobbering her for reasons the writer's don't bother to tell us about. The boyfriend, played with an Irish accent, which I consider outright racism probably perpetrated by Boston Brahmin Proddys, is the murderer of the first blonde, the victim who gets her brains bashed out with an iron. (Are you following this?) Busfield gets involved with Locklear and -- well, if you've seen DePalma's "Body Double," I needn't explain in too much detail. Of course he's reported the murder to the police but they are skeptical, as all police are in these situations. So Busfield begins following the murderer around, getting his nose popped in the process. (He's a pretty clumsy detective.) His Jewish auntie, Cloris Leachman, keeps warning him to look out, but does he listen?
By the end, the murderer is wised up to what's going on. There is a great deal of dashing around. Helpless blondes scream. Heroes run to the rescue, praying that they will get there on time. The murderer grows even more vicious and determined. And -- well, forget it. Want to see a good movie? Rent "Rear Window" and watch it again.
2 of 2 people found this review helpful.
Was this review helpful to you?