The Essentials: The Films of Brian De Palma

“Bonfire of the Vanities” (1990)
As lovingly detailed in Julie Salamon‘s must-read first hand account “The Devil’s Candy,” De Palma’s adaptation of Tom Wolfe‘s blockbuster novel was filled, from start to finish on both a macro and micro level, with crippling creative compromises and poor decisions. How, for instance, was lovably thuggish Bruce Willis cast as the novel’s erudite British author or the loud, Jewish judge from the book portrayed by a knightly Morgan Freeman? De Palma has never been the best with straightforward comedies (see also: “Wise Guys“), which is once again the case here, particularly with the screechy comedic tone established and maintained by stars Tom Hanks and Melanie Griffith (so much better and funnier in earlier De Palma joint “Body Double“). Here you can almost feel the director’s desperation to get back into the audience’s good graces after the disastrously received, unrelentingly bleak “Casualties of War.” Maybe most damning was the fact that, due to the sluggish development phase of “Bonfire of the Vanities,” the novel that embodied the eighties wasn’t released until 1990, well after it had captured the national zeitgeist. As is the case in all De Palma movies, no matter how miserable, there are a few moments that still dazzle: the opening, unbroken shot that follows Willis through a maze of underground tunnels before emerging into a swanky Manhattan event, the shot of the Concorde touching down that took a Herculean amount of effort to achieve (it’s lit by the golden hue of the setting sun), and the movie’s first image, atop the Chrysler Building, which required 24-hours of time lapse photography (achieved, like the Concorde moment, by second unit wizard Eric Schwab, who comes across in “The Devil’s Candy” as one of the production’s few non-assholes). In the documentary “Boffo: Tinseltown’s Bombs and Blockbusters,” Freeman (after a heavy sigh) said that the vibe was bad “going in.” He continued: “When an airline crashes, they say that it’s mostly as a result of a series of mishaps. Same thing.” The movie remains a fascinatingly rococo misfire, but a misfire just the same. [D]

“Raising Cain” (1992)
In the nineties, De Palma’s style had become almost a parody of itself, and its a credit to him that he didn’t alter his point-of-view, but rather embarked on a search for the camp within. Which is why “Raising Cain” might be one of his more overt homages to Hitchcock, mining the crux of “Psycho” to produce a murder mystery labyrinth balanced by one truly gonzo performance. A bug-eyed, memorably unhinged performance by John Lithgow carries “Raising Cain” as Dr. Carter Nix, who is basically the twist of “Psycho” made flesh and turned into the premise for a film. Nix is so disturbed by memories of his mother that he’s developed an excessive case of multiple personality disorder, one that has resulted in several new identities for him to try on. And all the while, he tries to find the root cause of the condition, with frequently murderous results. De Palma’s mastery of long shots reveals itself in a more contemporary context, as “Raising Cain” is also loaded with the sort of maddening trick angles and forced perspectives that reveal a storyteller brazenly emptying his bag of tricks. Less a movie than a magic trick, it’s De Palma dealing with a skimpy psychosexual theme, using it as an excuse to showcase not only a post-modern Hitch homage (watch those thundercracks!) but a standout nutball performance by Lithgow, never more terrifying, even as he tries on a number of increasingly absurd costumes and wigs. Rumors suggest a disastrous test screening forced De Palma to toss the set-up involving damsel in distress Jenny (Lolita Davidovitch), which gives “Raising Cain” a more askew, difficult reputation, as, essentially, the killer is the main character. What tickles isn’t the off-center moral confusion that creates, but the idea that De Palma is relishing challenging our notions of whether the “thriller” genre can ever feature a relatable “bad guy” who also happens to be totally batshit insane. [B+]

“Carlito’s Way” (1993)
While “Scarface” gets the lion’s share of the love when it comes to Brian De Palma crime epics starring Al Pacino, “Carlito’s Way” is just as wonderful, in some ways even besting Pacino and De Palma’s earlier triumph with a beautifully told story of rage, revenge, and (ultimately) redemption. In 1993, “Scarface” had yet to gain the cultural foothold it has now, and “Carlito’s Way” was greeted with, if not indifference, than far less acclaim than it should have been given. It’s the tale of Carlito Brigante (Pacino), a Cuban-American gangster freed on a technicality by his wormy Jewish lawyer (an unrecognizable Sean Penn) who tries to resist being pulled back into a life of crime, and sets about attempting to reconnect with a former flame (Penelope Ann Miller), while legitimately running a Harlem discotheque. Twenty minutes into the movie, during a dizzying sequence set inside a seedy pool hall, you can feel De Palma setting the film apart from “Scarface” while also re-establishing himself as a major cinematic talent after spending several years in the wilderness after the disastrous failure of “Bonfire of the Vanities.” But not only does “Carlito’s Way” feature some of De Palma’s best set pieces (including the breathless climax set inside Grand Central Terminal circa 1975), it also boasts some of the very best performances in any of the director’s films, particularly the unstoppable trifecta of Pacino, Penn and Miller (showing off her sexy side at a time when she was otherwise starring in clumsy contraptions like “The Shadow“). The movie’s emotional complexity, too, cannot be overstated. De Palma is a filmmaker who frequently comes under fire for being too “cold” and “calculating,” more interested in camera movements than character motivations. But he takes you on a journey with Carlito, one that you cannot help but get swept up in. When Carlito meets his fate at the end of the movie, it’s the most heart-tugging moment in any of De Palma’s films since the end of “Blow Out.” The pool hall sequence, when he’s trapped in a tiny bathroom, armed with an empty pistol and unsure of what’s on the other side of the door actually spawned the movie’s poster, because it so perfectly sums up the character’s struggles in a single image: you can feel him getting tugged towards crime while he simply tries to keep to the shadows, out of everyone’s way. “Carlito’s Way” is a sprawling, multi-layered tragedy, elegantly told by De Palma and screenwriter David Koepp (who would become an essential collaborator for De Palma during this period). It’s a film that represents the last time De Palma was responsible for a genuine masterpiece. [A]

“Mission: Impossible” (1995)
With “The Untouchables,” De Palma remade a classic television series as a big-budget feature for Paramount Pictures. He would do the same less than a decade later, turning a beloved spy series into a big-budget franchise for the same studio. The resulting film would go on to become De Palma’s biggest box office hit, grossing almost $500 million at the worldwide box office and spawning sequels that continue to this day (“Mission: Impossible 5” is currently in development). The production was notoriously difficult, with constant script revisions (by heavy hitters like David Koepp and Robert Towne) and incessant micromanaging from Tom Cruise, who in addition to being the world’s most powerful movie star was also the film’s producer. Evocative of the creatively turbulent production was the fact that the entire completed musical score by Alan Silvestri was jettisoned at the last minute and replaced by a new score by Danny Elfman (Silvestri’s score would be appropriated for the Arnold Schwarzenegger movie “Eraser” that opened later that summer). Rumors persisted that the director and Cruise didn’t get along and that by the end of the tumultuous post-production period, De Palma had removed himself entirely (he also refused to do press for the film), and while knowing all of this and watching the film you can see lessened influence from the director, though its success is attributable directly to the filmmaker’s sense of pacing, composition, and suspense. In short “Mission: Impossible,” while a greatly unadorned De Palma movie, is still undeniably his. First off, there are a number of Hitchcock nods, mostly to “Notorious” (especially during a sequence at the beginning set at a lavish party) and Hitchcock’s fascination with trains (the movie’s breathless climax happens on the Channel) and secondly there are suspense set pieces that only De Palma could have pulled off with that much wit, humor, and technical expertise. It’s easy to point to the sequence where the team breaks into CIA headquarters at Langley as not only the highlight of the film but, up until the Dubai sequence from ‘Ghost Protocol,’ the entire franchise. There’s also a terrific moment towards the end of the movie where Cruise is talking to Jon Voight, but while he’s recounting one series of events, we’re seeing the truth of what actually happened unfold. It’s miraculously clever, especially for big-budget tentpole stuff, and unsurprisingly when the movie was released it was criticized for being overly complicated. It’s not, it’s just complex enough. Those who claim that it’s watered down De Palma isn’t paying attention. This is his ‘Mission’ — decide to accept it. [A-]