Still the gold standard of auteur-franchise-fuckery. De Palma lays out all the traditional crayons and colors inside the lines, yet it still plays like one great big con-job. The *classic* opening, literally dividing its space and revealing itself as a movie-set, is only the beginning of how De Palma constantly expands and constricts his canvas. Shooting wide and large, in the case of the final train/helicopter action set-piece (which is still an all-timer), and shrinking a 'light-bulb' revelation to nothing more than conjoined edits and alternate viewpoints find common ground in his delicious zooms, ghostly steadicam, and operatic tendencies. The looming fog, traveling gazes, and canted angles are right out of early-British-period Hitchcock and Film Noir, but there's a few additions such as exploding chewing gum, floppy-disc-drives, and (gasp!) email. So assured it'll re-wire the brain.