if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen
This review may contain spoilers. I can handle the truth.
"There's a man following you."
"No, uh...it's not me."
It's been said the cruelest sleight-of-hand Hitchcock ever pulled on the American public was turning a sweetheart movie star like Jimmy Stewart into a damaged, domineering wretch like Scottie Ferguson. The cruelest (and funniest) prank De Palma ever pulled was recasting the role of Scottie Ferguson with Craig Wasson. Wasson is to Stewart what Body Double is to Vertigo, and what De Palma's L.A. is to Hitchcock's San Francisco:…
Memories, stories, and truths run together, rarely the same. Mentally picturing one image while looking at another and straining to remember one story while learning a new one. Frampton is testing the limits of his audience, of autobiography through art, of materiality, and of cinema—the illusion of simultaneous sound and image, the lie of pictures that speak to us. But why is an image without a story less frightening than a story without an image?