Déclics

Here's something a little different from Crown International Pictures: a giallo-flavoured slasher with a strong psychological angle and a decidedly nasty edge. DOUBLE EXPOSURE tells the tale of a photographer plagued by nightmares in which he kills a string of young and beautiful women, and a real-life series of killings taking place at the same time. Could he really be the serial killer responsible?

DOUBLE EXPOSURE feels very much like an '80s-era giallo along the lines of A BLADE IN THE DARK or NOTHING UNDERNEATH. It has an unusually vicious edge to it for a Crown International film; it's not that it's particularly gory - and it's certainly nowhere near as gory as your average Italian giallo - it's just that the murders are ruthless and mean-spirited. Being a Crown film, there's ample nudity if you're after that, along with a very low budget that gives a schlocky look to everything that occurs.

The cast give solid rather than unspectacular performances and there are supporting turns for a few familiar faces like Cleavon Little. Michael Callan is pretty good as the weirdo lead, covered in sweat and acting deranged for the most part, although anybody with any experience of this particular genre of films will guess the identity of the killer early on in the proceedings. Nevertheless, DOUBLE EXPOSURE is a breath of fresh air when compared to Crown's typical output (i.e. low budget sex comedies).

Greetings And Salutations, and welcome to my review of Double Exposure; before launching into my critique, here's a breakdown of my ratings:

Story - 1.00 Direction - 0.75 Pace - 0.75 Acting - 1.00 Enjoyment - 1.00

TOTAL - 4.5 out of 10

William Byron Hillman is his own worst enemy, and it's his double exposure as a writer and director that damages the movie. He has a good basic idea, which is similar to other films - aren't they always(?) The trouble is the red herrings and misdirection. There's not enough or none at all. That goes for both the story and the directing. I'll be amazed if you've not figured out who the slasher is halfway through. It wouldn't have taken too much to strengthen the whodunnit part of the story as there are four suspects it could be. All Hillman had to do was cast suspicion on them all at different times. Doing this would pull the audience into the film more as they try to figure out who the killer was. But he didn't.

No, he had a different approach. Confuse the audience with the direction. He intersperses the dream sequences in a way you're unsure of the order of the dream and the murder - which came first? Making the film awkward and disjointed is never a good idea. Seldom few directors make this style work. Hillman is not one of the few. The harshness also tars the tempo, adding to the disarray. Apart from this substantial mishap, the rest of the filming is passable. In all truth, the dream sequences are respectable too; it's just their arrangement in the movie.

The cast is the shining light of this picture, which isn't saying too much. Generally, all the actors and actresses deliver decent performances. However, there are a couple of moments when the lead man gets too whacko. His joy is in overkill mode when he fantasises about the pool killing. The grin should have been chilling, but it was over-the-top ludicrous. Then there's the scene where he has a breakdown juncture. Instead of offering insight into the mind of a mentally disturbed man, it comes across more as a comedy moment, which isn't funny.

Double Exposure is a messy below-par Dark Thriller come Chiller that could have risen above averageness. I'd say it's worth a look-see if there's nowt else on the box. But, I wouldn't suggest buying it, let alone hunting it down.

Please feel free to visit my Killer Thriller Chiller list to see where I ranked Double Exposure.

Take Care & Stay Well.

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.

A photographer in Los Angeles (Michael Callan) has troubling dreams as he juggles visits to a shrink (Seymour Cassel), dealing with his amputee brother (James Stacy) and establishing a new romantic relationship (Joanna Pettet). Meanwhile a serial killer is on the loose.

"Double Exposure" (1982) is a psychological murder mystery with some slasher elements. Think of movies like Shatner's "Impulse," "The Centerfold Girls" or "Haunts" mixed with a little "Nightmare" from the year prior. It's basically a quasi-remake of Callan's own "The Photographer" from eight years prior.

The quality cast is rounded out by the likes of Pamela Hensley, Cleavon Little, Robert Tessier and Don Potter with the female cast highlighted by Misty Rowe (Bambi), Debbie Zipp (Toni), Sally Kirkland and Victoria Jackson (her cinematic debut in a bit part).

It runs 1 hour, 34 minutes, and was shot in the Los Angeles area, including Ventura Boulevard in Sherman Oaks and Tarzana, Burbank and Santa Monica Beach.

GRADE: B-

Michael Callan plays a smarmy photographer who seems, nonetheless, to be regarded as a perfect "catch" by any woman that runs across him; could this have anything to do with the fact that he also co-produced the film? He's a "hero" whom it's very difficult to empathize with, so the movie is in trouble right from the start. However, it's troubles don't end there. It has the production values of a TV-movie (check out that head made of clay or something, near the end), and the ending cheats in a way that I can't reveal, in case anyone wants to see the movie (highly unlikely). Let's just say that the killer knows more than we were let to know he knows. (*1/2)