A much more conventional and unexciting piece of work.
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Dario Argento undervalues his material, but his set pieces are glorious enough that the film’s plot contrivances can be forgiven.
For all its nonsensical qualities, it also contains some of Argento's most hallucinatory images and unforgettable setpieces, as always reason enough to watch even when the usual reasons are nowhere to be found.
The kind of film that starts off with a climax and builds to a plateau of surrealist delirium that, one way or another, will have you shrieking.
The writing is clumsy, with information packed crudely into the dialogue, and his attention to the performances is inversely proportional to his attention to style. Yet his “New York” has an eerie, deserted, otherworldly quality—much as Stanley Kubrick’s Eyes Wide Shut would later—and some of the individual setpieces are spectacularly vibrant.