Sisters (1972)

Oddball auteur Brian De Palma's first foray into the world of tight thrillers, Sisters is an amusing box of mystery tied in a kinky little bow. More "psycho" than "sexual", De Palma brings the thrills by channeling the spirit of the Hitchcock whodunnit; even nabbing his composer, Bernard Hermann, for a chilling score of wailing strings and fits of energy. Everything about Sisters revolves around the bait-and-switch, even from the start the film is playing games with its viewers. And though the implication of twins may conjure images of the classic "good twin bad twin" trope, Sisters is a whole different take on the matter.

One thing that distinguishes is the spunky social commentary ingrained in the film's more humorous moments. The air of its New York setting is rife with jaded bumbling cops, microaggressions and stereotypes, women's liberation; it feels like a reaction to the social climate of the time despite it merely hanging in the minds of its characters. And De Palma and co writer Louisa Rose intentionally pit two differing female ideologies against one another with our leads: Grace (Jennifer Salt), the fiery reporter who'll use a crowbar before a key; and Danielle (Margot Kidder), the soft spoken actress who sounds medicated up to her ears. Both performances as enjoyable as they are unique variations on some old tropes.

Unique variations and homage is really what it's all about here, Sisters doesn't pretend to deny the Hitchcock allegations. Moreso it follows him to the book and...what do you know? The guy who made Vertigo and The Birds did know a thing or two about visual storytelling! People of Earth, I have the pleasure of saying that Sisters has some of my favorite cinematography of any film. It's playful to a degree where you want to know what's coming each turn, pan, zoom, cut. Is it going to be a joke? A red herring? A clue? A murder? And it pulls some great split screen scenes that really play with that giddy feeling that comes with seeing the slimy killer get away with it by the skin of their teeth.

A packed hour and a half, Sisters delivers more bang for its buck than most. Sure the mystery may fizzle as the film refuses to delve further into its intriguing psychological subjects of trauma and bondage. But it never stops delivering thrills; and just when you think it doesn't have any more thrills to give, Sisters eeks out one more shocker. Give it the precise edge of Gregory Sandor's cinematic suburbia and the tortured performances of Salt and Kidder; set it to the confused swirling strings of Hermann, and you have a fine melding of the all stuff that makes your head poke up a bit more, makes you want to ask someone, "Did you see that?"