The Fury [HD]

Hollywood doesn't make 'em like this anymore!!
THE FURY

(USA - 1978)

Aspect ratio: 1.85:1
Theatrical soundtrack: Mono

Dismissed at the time of its initial release as a mishmash of themes and genres, time has been kind to THE FURY, Brian De Palma's visually spectacular adaptation of the novel by John Farris. An ex-government agent (Kirk Douglas) seeks the help of a young girl (Amy Irving) with incredible psychic abilities to help locate his son (Andrew Stevens), who has extraordinary powers of his own and has been kidnapped by an ultra-secret organization who plan to use his talents for their own sinister purposes.

Farris' own script has a neat symmetry, encompassing Middle Eastern terrorism, government conspiracies, psychic horror, and a series of Grand Guignol death scenes, orchestrated to a turn by De Palma whose growing confidence as a filmmaker sees him fully engage with the concept of Pure Cinema which has characterized much of his work ever since.

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TOTALLY COMPELLING
Exuberant and glossy, this DePalma follow-up to CARRIE is a telekinetic feast. Incredulous and mind-blowing, this is a great pop movie with some fabulous DePalma sequences -- Amy Irving's flashback on the stairs is a dizzying and imaginative plot-mover; the opening assault will take you by complete surprise. In addition, there are some affecting performances mixed in among the hambone, but effective, performances of Kirk Douglas and especially John Cassavettes, who plays this role as if he is Rosemary's husband all grown up and evil. Carrie Snodgress is truly moving in a way too small role, and Amy Irving glows in those richly textured close-ups DePalma does so well. The story is compelling, if a bit convoluted, what with its undertone of doom and a special-effects romance that never plays itself out. If you love engrossing suspense/horror films, you can't miss with this one. John Williams' dense and lyrical score adds a mesmerizing dimension to the increasingly gory...

Guilty? About what?
Pleasure yes, but hardly a guilty one. This is De Palma's most staggering display of moxie -- his attempt to out-Hitchcock Hitchcock at every turn. Oh sure, the story's kind of a "Carrie" retread, and the plot doesn't make perfect sense, but who cares? This movie is an exercise in sheer technique, nowhere on display more than the classic ending -- a spewing, multi-angle Grande Guignol spectacle that gives nothing but satisfaction. My favorite actor, John Cassavetes -- maybe the only villain in film history who keeps his broken arm in a black sling -- plays it for all it's worth. This is a gloriously bloody movie.

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