Nicolas Roeg’s Don’t Look Now presents its world of grief as something both recognizable and sympathetic, but it’s also one that becomes more frighteningly askew and enigmatic with each passing minute. Endlessly resisting the urge to move forward and backward in any coherent straight line, the genius of Roeg’s 1973 supernatural horror landmark rests in its unsettling depiction of the compression of time. Despair, neglect, and irresponsibility all weigh down on the film’s primary characters, a British couple who have left their stateside home for Venice after the death of their daughter. Dread and tragedy seem to follow them everywhere, leaving the couple and the audience to intuit the unpredictable nature of the images and sounds Roeg presents us with. The film’s famous imagery has no doubt left a lasting impression over the years, but in revisiting the film via Criterion’s new edition, Don’t Look Now feels as chilling and timeless as ever.
Roeg sets us on a course of instant shock as he opens the film with a young girl in a bright red raincoat playing outside in the rain until she falls into the pond in her backyard; her parents, John (Donald Sutherland) and Laurie (Julie Christie) Baxter sit inattentive inside until an awful feeling washes over John that something awful has happened. He rushes outside to save her, but it’s already too late. Almost immediately after, the film shifts its locale to the decayed, wintry setting of Venice (at an undetermined time) where John and Laurie attempt to mend the wounds left by their loss. John’s attention is on an old church that he’s restoring, while Laurie is visibly still stricken from grief. She quickly catches the eye of two English sisters (one of whom is a blind psychic) who tell her that they’ve spoken to her daughter and that she’s happy and present.
At first, this information startles Laurie, causing her to collapse in a restaurant. Some form of normalcy is restored a few scenes later when Laurie and John indulge in passionate sex, probably for the first time since the death of their child. It’s a scene made famous for its explicit nature, but one that’s brilliantly links present and future through its editing. However, this act of intimacy cannot be replicated in the grand scheme of the narrative. Everything is not as it seems, as John starts to witness a little red-hooded person who evokes the last image of his daughter, evading him throughout the city; there’s also a killer on the loose.
Roeg and his team of collaborators, namely editor Graeme Clifford and cinematographer Anthony B. Richmond, transform a simple story of tragedy into an endless maze of insidious shapes, movements, and motifs: it’s a film about premonitions and those foolish enough to try and reason with it. There’s a seemingly casual scene of John examining tiles in a church, until suddenly a wooden beam comes crashing down on him, collapsing his scaffold. It’s edited so that we can see what happens before John realizes it, but just barely. Before the accident, the camera and lighting create a halo effect where the laughing face of Laurie’s blind friend is inserted for just a second; it’s moments like these that Roeg strategically sprinkles all throughout, messing with our conscience and leaving a lasting impact.
While some may argue that not a lot happens in the middle portion of Don’t Look Now, it’s here where the characters end up staggering for proper footing and attempt to get a grip on what is happening around them. The geometry of space is continually thrown out of whack in the deserted and secluded streets of Venice that John moves through; it’s a city of dark alleys and dead ends where answers come with a price.
While Don’t Look Now is mostly remembered for its shocking opening and final reveal, Roeg’s skewed chronology and logic remains the film’s most valued aspect. The color red, water, and broken glass each exist in the past, present, and future for this haunted couple. Roeg ties it all together with a singular visual grammar that is entirely disorienting and cruel. Losing a child isn’t easy, but by the end, after all the heartache, mystery, and additional tragedies, only then does peace become plausible for those who remain alive. A true labyrinth of fear and passion, Don’t Look Now remains a lasting achievement.
A/V
Criterion’s update of Don’t Look Now includes an essential video transfer that mixes both original cinematography from the film and added color correction. The breathtaking opening captures the daughter’s infamous red raincoat with astonishing clarity. Grain is evident in many scenes, but the image is stable, varied, and organic with no visible errors. It’s a sizeable upgrade over StudioCanal’s Blu-ray release in 2011 and will likely remain the best presentation possible of the film. The audio track is clean and provides a wonderful stage for Pino Donaggio’s memorable score.
Extras
While some Criterions suffer in this department, Don’t Look Now is loaded with exquisite extras. Kicking things off is a featurette with Nicolas Roeg, director of photography Anthony B. Richmond, and editor Graeme Clifford, each of whom is wonderfully candid in detailing how the film was crafted. “Death in Venice” is an archival video interview with composer Pino Donaggio, who recalls his lack of experience with film scores and his collaboration with Roeg on constructing the soundtrack. The best feature is a lengthy interview with actors Donald Sutherland and Julie Christie on making the film, with additional insight from co-writer Allan Scott and Richmond. Directors Danny Boyle and Steven Soderbergh pop up in a separate interview, each recalling how they’ve stolen from Roeg; Soderbergh’s aping can be viewed in the bar/sex scene from Out of Sight. Writer and historian Bobbie O’ Steen sits down with Graeme Clifford to dissect his cutting and framing style in a highly informative interview. The features are rounded out with a Q&A session with Roeg hosted by film writer Paul Ryan after a screening of the film in 2003. The disc also comes with a trailer for the film, and an essay by film critic David Thompson.
Overall
An abundance of riches awaits anyone who purchases Criterion’s update of Don’t Look Now, a highly recommended buy for both fans of the film and those looking to rediscover Roeg’s masterclass in atmosphere and tension.
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