Movies that are slightly off.
An experience in terror and suspense.
A government agent is determined to come to his son's rescue, when a sinister official kidnaps him to harness his extremely powerful psychic abilities.
Oh, Brian, you insanely talented man. All the way through The Fury I was thinking "This isn't so great... meh." That is, until the last scene and that last fucking shot. You got me, you really got me. That was best final shot in any movie, ever. Holy fuck, really, De Palma!? You had the balls to even roll the credits after that. Genius. Pure genius.
The Fury stars Kirk Douglas, John Cassavetes, and Amy Irving. Douglas was fit, man. He looked like he could lift a horse. Cassavetes sported a sling throughout the film. I'm sure it was a character choice as he doesn't have much to do here. He still is as creepy as all fuck. Irving isn't…
Film is seen through sight. Images translate to our brains through our eyes into materiality – what is the becomes that, evidence of something that was in a place in time. But it is only an illusion that our eyes deceive. "Let that screen fill your mind," we are told. And yet, we cannot touch. We can desire to touch—out of lust, anger, fear, or love—but to touch is to destroy the screen.
Perhaps more than Blow-Out, De Palma's The Fury addresses our relationship to cinema, except through the most insane, backwards way possible: a conspiracy thriller with a psychological horror fantasy bent. But every moment in this film is either one of sight or touch. Sight is what allows…
It looks like Carrie was still on De Palma’s mind when he made this off-the-rails horror movie about a couple of star-crossed psychics. The Fury is as bonkers as you might expect with its overcomplicated premise and a bizarre conglomeration of recognisable actors, including a brief glimpse of Daryl Hannah in her first on-screen role.
De Palma’s tongue-in-cheek vibe allows you to laugh at the over the top characters who spend most of their time screaming and bleeding like a bunch of nincompoops in a Dario Argento movie. Although The Fury is not some throwaway rubbish, its unnecessary explosions and body bursts actually predate Michael Bay and David Cronenberg’s use of such techniques, who knew De Palma was such a…
Liberace's dad on a relentless quest to find his missing son. A fun day at the beach ends in disaster. Free your mind and the rest will follow. Bloody visions. Roid rage. Frisbee with a dog. Playing Pong. Skinny Dennis Franz. Busting out of a nuthouse. Whiskey cures toothaches. Telepathic puppeteering. Tragic falls. The blue eyed glow of death. Douglas is great. Cassavetes fucking owns, but both needed more screen time. I didn't click with Amy Irving and she has way too much screen time for me to fully enjoy. Douglas in a speedo mowing down baddies with an AK-47 is the shit though.
Being a parent is hard. One day you're a superhero, a literal giant, necessary for your child's survival. Then all of a sudden they're bigger and faster than you, smarter and more mature, and off to college where they learn to use their minds to blow up fascism and the agents of darkness and they don't need you anymore.
Brian De Palma's supernatural follow up to Carrie switches gender to a bit less success, becoming a bit more of a straight-forward thriller in hopes of capturing the success of Jaws. However, it does involve a shirtless Kirk Douglas terrorising an elderly couple at gun point while filling his hair full of white shoe polish.
I had to miss this one at Alamo due to unforseen circumstances. Luckily, I was still able to see it before catching De Palma so as not to have the apparently-awesome ending spoiled for me. I've got to say, that ending was hyped up but still pretty cool.
Carrie 2: Carries
Aside from some amazing set pieces, like that slow motion foot/car chase and long take sundae making(!!), The Fury felt like a somnambulant potbolier that could've been directed by any '70s hired hand. After this second viewing, I still wasn't really feeling the Kirk Douglas spy subplot. It has no real impact on the overall psychic shenanigans and felt tame and labored and predictable like two aging men using a younger generation to wage war.
Restrained De Palma is my least favorite De Palma, I guess. Perhaps The Fury is a case of the movie in my head getting away from the actual onscreen finished product. I wanted more school of psychic girls giving each other nosebleeds and long takes and flamboyant showboating De Palma instead of beige '70s action featuring angry dads. But that indoor carnival sequence! And evil leather-gloved Cassavetes! This movie has me as torn as Andrew Stevens's schizoid brain.
"Did you do something with his arm, Peter?"
"I killed it. With a machine gun."
Blow up your idols.
Sometimes I Feel Like My Life's A Movie
If this can be called De Palma's first hack job, it's only useful for the purpose of illustrating that there are no De Palma hack jobs, not really - even here, with a kaleidoscopically-plotted scifi espionage mishmash, he creates a cinematic symphony about memory, trauma, violence, and cinema itself.
This also has to be De Palma's funniest movie (second maybe to Scarface), with more actually successful comic relief than any of his other thrillers have - I personally would love to see an entire movie about Mother Nuckells, or maybe a series about her adventures providing aid and comfort to various fugitives who pass through.
I have mixed feelings about the fury. It's so close to being an excellent movie but there are a lot of little things than irked me. I could watch it shot by shot and say what's great about it and what's not so great about it.
The story--some hogwash about the militarization of psychic teens and the super-spy-dad who just wants to rescue his son from the clutches of an evil black-wearin' guy--has all the lumpy pleasures of a beat up novel you might find abandoned on a seat at a Greyhound station. This doesn't need anything more, really, it is a product after all, but De Palma injects into it all of this weird 70s paranoia, film brat angst, and generational anxiety that make it feel like a bigger statement. Like maybe this movie could cogently explain the root causes of racism or abuse or how movies work on the subconscious or various theories on other real life psychic maladies if it didn't also have to have shoot outs and car chases (note: I'm glad it does!) or characters and a plot (note: these are not as good). I'm happy to have it both ways. What an explosive mess!
This review may contain spoilers. I can handle the truth.
*Cassavetes loses eyesight* "yeah, that make sense, cause like, not to see is like not to touch is like not to li"*Cassavetes explodes* "Oh, um..ok!"
My canon. In (approximate) order of favorite films, not necessarily of best action sequences.
Trying to keep a relatively open…
Quentin Tarantino's favorite films based on the internet pulled from multiple sources.