Before I begin, I would like to declare that I would trade several years of my life to look like Julie Christie does in this film. Hubba-freaking-hubba.

I saw Don’t Look Now about 12 years ago on video, on a rainy day in San Francisco, with a boyfriend. It got to us, big time — one big mindfuckapalooza. K I clung to each other while watching it, and it took a long walk outside and several beers in a nearby bar to get back to “normal.”

The first scene, in which Donald Sutherland and Julie Christie lose their daughter, is pretty brutal. It hits me close to home, as someone in my family lost their life in a similar way. So, from the outset (particularly for me) the teeth are clenched and the guts are a-roiling.

You just don’t see movies like this anymore. The editing, pacing, the intentional imperfection .. all of it is of its time. Nicholas Roeg can be a painfully ponderous director, but this film is so tense and weird that and peppered with “boo” moments that its a refreshing vacation from the crapheap that is most of mainstream cinema.

And that sex scene! A lot has been written about it, so I don’t need to add too much there, except: it’s great. And: see paragraph #1.

And the horror aspect is also great. Gothic! That figure in red: a spectre? A ghost? Something else? It’s all off-kilter. Now that I have experienced it firsthand myself, I can see how the film explores grief and mourning. How pain ebbs and flows, how you wish — need! — it to feel different, how easy it is to get distracted and how hard it is to forget.

I have no idea when I started liking Donald Sutherland. His glassy eyed earnestness used to drive me a tiny bit batshit, but now, well, I get him, I guess.

Soundtrack: every once in a while it veers into the worst, most misguided treacle, but then it rights itself and shuts the hell up.

Length: 110 minutes. Not long, but it could have been shorter. But you know, I’m always gonna say that.

The ending: what th’??!? Be patient and get there (it’s worth it!), and try not to remember every fucking review that spoils it. To hell with spoilers!

(And this is the point where I apologize to Nora G, to whom I blew the twist to The Sixth Sense.)

A much, much better review than mine lives here.