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| Obsession |
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  (6/10)
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Runtime: 98 m |
| Public Rating: 8.07 (15 votes) |
Director: Brian De Palma |
MPAA Rating:  |
| Genre: Comedy/Sci-Fi |
Year: 1976 |
| Writer(s): Paul Schrader |
| Reviewed by: Vadim Rizov |
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The budding auteurist is constantly referred to Vertigo as one of the consummate expressions of individuality, Hitchcock's most personal revelation to the screen of his most intimate fetishes and desires, etc. Absorbing and somewhat mesmerizing as it is, it's essentially a dumb movie. Sure, it deals explicitly with necrophilia, but the real message of the film can be rudely summarized as "Blond chicks are untrustworthy bitches." Obsession is also a dumb movie, but it lacks all of the aching sincerity of Hitch's would-be masterstroke, and that makes all the difference. Vertigo is a confession attached to a gimmick, while Obsession is all gimmick with some toned-down, initially disturbing elements.
Far slower than De Palma's previous film, the stylistically original Phantom Of The Paradise, a snide master-entertainment, Obsession infamously takes its cue from Vertigo, down to several sequences, but any viewer familiar with the original won't feel cheated into seeing the same thing executed with lesser actors. And lesser actors they are, from the incredibly passive Cliff Robertson to the surprisingly hammy John Lithgow, which means it's, once again, a showcase for De Palma's technique...what a surprise. Then again, I'm a De Palma apologist. The actors are compensated for, in large part, by the scenery; a 10-15 minutes prologue in New Orleans is followed by a lush mid-section in Florence which, for those with nostalgic attachments to the city, will prove most enjoyable. When Robertson returns to New Orleans, a great effort is made to show only the ugliest and most modern parts of the city. Which is to say that the flashy stuff belongs more properly, in this instance, to cinematographer Vilmos Zsigmond than De Palma (in the first of their 3 collaborations), as Florence is lovingly brightened, Robertson's New Orleans mansion gorgeously luminous, and everything else suitably dark. There's only one shot even vaguely resembling a split-screen, and very little craning or conspicuously bizarre composition.
The problem with Obsession is that there really is very little point to telling the story; from the moment that businessman Robertson, having lost his family 16 years earlier, spies an exact duplicate of his wife in Florence and falls madly in love, we know from the ominous Bernard Herrmann that there must be a twist, and there's very little point in having to wait some 90 minutes to find out what it is. The pace can therefore seem maddeningly slow, but the confidence and style with which the whole thing unfolds is pretty much the point, and I happen to like pure style if the actual content isn't too overbearing. The score is the most controversial aspect of the film, as Hermmann's bombastic score uncues a gothic organ at every remotably suitable juncture, provoking laughter from some and anger at this mirth from others. But, as a self-conscious exercise in amping up the most conspicuous elements of Vertigo, it works damn well. And one wonders if the airport finale/beginning of Twelve Monkeys had more to do with this than Vertigo, howevermuch the rest of that film was the perfect homage (and improvement).
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