Dressed To Kill

SPOILERS

Go ahead and accuse writer/director Brian De Palma of Hitchcock plagiarism, liberal use of dream sequences, audience manipulation, and transphobia.  You would probably not be incorrect.  Fans are quite familiar with his shameless yet virtuoso methods and love him for it.  One does not approach earlier De Palma films expecting social or cultural responsibility or maturity.  The intention, at least in his thrillers, is born purely of pulp, a fetishism for style and orchestration.   In 1980's DRESSED TO KILL, it is damned near operatic, aided by a thunderous score by Pino Donaggio that is as grandiose as the events themselves.   

My most recent viewing revealed this movie to be more of a comedy than I recalled.  Sometimes subtle, often not at all.  Consider the scene where an attractive middle-aged woman discovers a medical report for the stranger she just spent the afternoon with.  In all caps it proclaims that he has venereal disease.  It is a moment so absurd that I laughed out loud.  Up to that point, Kate Miller (Angie Dickinson) is given a rather low key and elegant showcase as a sexually frustrated woman who opens up to her shrink, Dr. Elliott (Michael Caine) and later enjoys a slow pursuit in a museum with said stranger before they end up clawing each other in a taxi.   

Or a scene where another shrink explains a killer's psychological m.o., one that will also ring quite absurd and possibly even offensive, especially to contemporary viewers.  Or a second dream sequence that is milked so long it almost becomes a parody of Hitch rather than an homage.  Or anytime Detective Marini (Dennis Franz) is onscreen.

Oh, the plot? Kate will meet her bloody demise in an elevator at the end of a straight razor wielded by a mysterious blonde in a black leather jacket.  And in grand giallo style, with black leather gloves.  Kate's son Peter (Keith Gordon), a science whiz, teams up with a prostitute named Liz (Nancy Allen) who witnessed the murder and in Hitchcock style picks up the discorded weapon just in time for a chambermaid to get the wrong idea.  Together they will try to catch the assailant, suspecting it may be one of Dr. Elliott's patients.  In the process they will form a refreshingly chaste and sweet friendship, surprising for an otherwise rather provocative motion picture. 

De Palma pulls out all his trademarks.  There is repeated use of split screen, also used during the museum slow chase that is expertly shot and edited (by Ralf D. Bode and Gerald B. Greenberg, respectively).  The director is unrepentantly audacious with his stylistics, be it showing the light reflecting off the razor into Liz's eyes or those patented overhead points of view.  He will also provide at least two overwrought climaxes after the main one.  By the second one I was just chuckling.  It is by that point that viewers disturbed by a lack of sensitivity for transgender folk should back up, breathe,  and consider the source.  At least with his horror films, I think De Palma is aiming for social irresponsibility, and more than succeeds.  Any of his own psychosexual issues he's trying to exorcise might be better left for a more astute film reviewer to ponder. 

You could blame this on the time period, when conversations about the mechanics of sex change operations would go the way they do in a late scene between Peter and Liz.  Is De Palma poking the bear with such a scene, or was he really that clueless or insensitive? A glance at the thoughts of younger viewers reveals no acceptance of a style over content apologia.   An increasing difficulty especially for Millenials and Generation Z.  Unfortunate for them, as for me DRESSED TO KILL is a bravura piece of filmmaking.  One that the less serious it is taken the better.