“The pussy died, eh?”
De Palma's masterpiece - or at least an extremely strong contender. A delectably over-the-top Technicolor rock 'n roll spectacle, bursting from start to finish with feverish psychedelia and deliriously catchy pop songs. Music industry corruption taken to its logical extreme - the exploited commodity all but stripped of every last shred of humanity via Faustian blood pact. From the moment the Juicy Fruits sing their first note, you're hooked.