Double Exposure

A photographer keeps having bad dreams where he has visions of him murdering many of his models. His amputee stuntman brother tries his best to keep his head afloat as the photographer starts a relationship with the woman of his dreams. Is the photographer really the killer? And will he make his new girlfriend his latest victim?

Double Exposure is a wonky and uncomfortable mix of drama, police procedural, and slasher/giallo cliches. It wants to be a character driven psychodrama, but it's never quite deep enough. It doesn't succeed much as a slasher either due to the poorly paced suspense/attack scenes that tend to end on more of a whimper than a bang. To make matters worse, the final twist is telegraphed from a mile away and triggers more eye rolls than gasps.

That said, Double Exposure looks like about 50 million bucks. There's clearly a ton of talent involved in this film and every shot looks like something from a film that's got a ton of money behind it. When all else fails, just turn off the sound and enjoy how the film looks.

Double Exposure (1983)

** 1/2 (out of 4)

Adrian Wilde (Michael Callan) is a photographer who is seeing a shrink because he's having very bad nightmares about murdering the women he takes photos of. He tries to strike up a relationship with Mindy (Joanna Pettet) but before long he begins to fear that his dreams are real.

DOUBLE EXPOSURE isn't the most successful film that you're going to watch but there are enough good moments in it to make it worth watching. The best way to describe the film is saying it's a cross between the type of thriller that Brian DePalma would make but with the sleaze factor of a slasher. The two go well together and we get some nice performance that help make the film a bit better than it probably deserves to be.

As far as the mystery goes, for the most part we're given some suspects and we're made to wait until the very end for the killer to be revealed. I thought the mystery aspect worked quite well, although there are some rather silly moments involving a couple cops working the case. The two of them pretty much just show up every so often whenever the film needs to remind the viewer that the murders are being investigated. What really helps the film is the fact that Callan is so good in the lead role of the troubled man who thinks he might be more damaged that he originally thought. Pettet and James Stacy both add nice support.

The film works as a slasher and especially during the scenes where we see the killer talking various women including prostitutes. There's a nice sequence where we see a hooker lure the killer down an alleyway. Director William Bryan Hillman makes the film look quite good but a little more energy and a bit more suspense certainly would have helped things. As it stands, DOUBLE EXPOSURE certainly isn't a masterpiece but it's a mildly entertaining film.

A good old early eighties slasher film with a distinct giallo flavour to it, Double Exposure does what it sets out to do, but adds a little character to the proceedings too. Adrian Wilde is a photographer who suffers from bad dreams, especially those where he's killing the models who work with him. His brother, a stunt man whose career cost him an arm and a leg (literally), offers support but seems to be increasingly bitter and angry at the world. Wilde meets a girl called Misty, but his dreams and failing grip on reality threaten the relationship, and when the models start turning up dead in real life, Wilde reckons he's got a big problem on his hands.

The giallo side of things rears it's head as it become apparent that the true life killer is a photographer, but in the giallo style, just about every male character wields a camera at some point, from Wilde and his brother, the local barman, the psychiatrist and a gay colleague of Wilde's. Some of the killings seemingly take place in Wilde's dreams, and although the gore level is low the nasty level is quite high, especially when one model has her head forced into a bin bag that contains a snake.

So, is Wilde a nutter or is there some other utter nutter muttering in the background (with a camera shutter covered in butter)? I'll leave that up to you to find out, but I enjoyed this film, although I'm kind of getting fed up watching middle aged men getting it on with the chicks, like.

I had to scan the credits of this movie for surnames beginning and/or ending in vowels because I'd swear it was an Italian giallo. All the signs are there: gratuitous violence and nudity, out-of-control cinematography, a completely ridiculous plot. Michael Callan is a photographer who has incredibly cinematic dreams where he murders his beautiful, half-naked models. When his beautiful, half-naked models start being murdered in real life, both the police and his psychiatrist (Seymour Cassel) begin to suspect that he is the killer. But is it him or is it his creepy brother who is missing both an arm and leg (but still gets to date former "Hee Haw" honey Misty Rowe and mud wrestle Playmate-to-be Kathy Shower)? If you've seen even one of these kind of movies, you already know the answer. Still if you love Italian giallos and 70's and 80's low-budget American exploitation flicks (a select group of people, I know) you'll be in drunken, late-night TV-watching heaven with this one.

First time I saw this film many years ago, I thought it was a pretty fair slasher film, but on second recent viewing, it's waned a bit - while Callan is okay as the central character, a men's magazine photographer suffering from bizarre and murderous apparent dreams, Jim Stacy as his knock-about brother, maimed in an auto-accident, is perhaps the film's highlight. The switch in dominance between Callan and Stacy's characters is interesting to see evolve, but it's a transition that's made difficult to follow due to the film's erratic narrative. Joanna Pettet gets undressed and even has a "When Harry Met Sally" moment with Callan in the back of his camper-van, as the only woman with whom Callan's emotionally fragile character can consummate.

The violence is pretty extreme at times, with sado-masochistic homicide the flavour of the early eighties slasher film getting 'double exposure' here, full-frontal female nudity, mud-wrestling, even Cleavon Little in a minor supporting role as a cranky police chief. It's eclectic. The cast has surprising depth with producer Callan managing to assemble an enviable cast that includes big Bob Tessier as a bar manager, Pamela Hensley as a ball-breaking detective, Seymour Cassel as Callan's shrink, Misty Rowe as Stacy's squeeze, Sally Kirkland as a voluptuous hooker and blink-and-you'll-miss Terry Moore in a flashback dream sequence.

Lairy wardrobe, colourful dialogue, pulsating synthesisers and tricky cinematographic effects momentarily distract you, but the narrative is so inconsistent and the editing (or perhaps scene sequence and continuity) so incoherent at times, that it never maintains any momentum. Highly stylised, the bold concepts and loud motifs (not to mention the substantial cast) should have made for a better movie all things considered, and yet, it's still no Brian DePalma psycho-thriller.