Deathtrap (1982)
"No blood on the carpet... ten points for neatness."
I’ve been itching to write about Sidney Lumet’s Deathtrap (1982), especially since this column is fast becoming a temple to the genius of Ira Levin— one of the 20th century’s most imaginative thriller writers, described by Stephen King as the ‘Swiss watchmaker of suspense novels.’ Levin, who died in 2007, is a literary hero—the novelist and playwright behind an impressive list of film adaptations: Roman Polanski’s Rosemary’s Baby (1968), Bryan Forbes’ The Stepford Wives (1975), The Boys from Brazil (1978) starring Laurence Olivier, Gregory Peck and James Mason, and of course, Deathtrap, based on his play of 1978. Levin’s first novel, A Kiss Before Dying (1953), won an Edgar Allan Poe award for Best First Novel. If you haven’t already read it, it’s a terrific psychological thriller along the lines of Patricia Highsmith. Polanski and Forbes happen to be two of my favourite directors, and Levin might well be up there in my all-time favourite author list.
Anyway. I watched Deathtrap again last week. It is, of course, remarkably similar to Sleuth (1972), and Michael Caine stars in both films, except, in Deathtrap, he plays a failing thriller writer cum playwright (Sidney Bruhl) as opposed to a South Kensington hairdresser. Yet despite the Rubik’s cube of the DVD artwork, Deathtrap is undoubtedly the last gasp of a genre already decidedly dated by 1982, if intentionally ironic— from the stagey production values (sofa, stage left) to the tinkle of Johnny Mandel’s harpsichord (baroque around the clock), from the theatrical plot twists (then, having taken the 12.45 from Broughton Gibbon…) to Sidney Bruhl’s Noel Coward dressing gown (Paisley silk). But, of course, this is exactly why I like it: urbane characters lounging around in civilised surroundings (decent antiques) exchanging witty, waspish comments over a cocktail or two, enlivened by the odd bit of violence or hysterical outburst— for dramatic effect. Like Hitchcock’s Rope (1947), Sleuth (1972) or Whit Stillman’s Metropolitan (1990)— it’s my kind of film.
And Sidney Bruhl’s house is my kind of house. Any thriller writer worth his or her salt needs to live in a windmill in The Hamptons. Or a clapboard lighthouse, a Wiltshire manor house, a Malibu beach house or a thatched seaside cottage with lattice windows and shutters— and there needs to be an old-fashioned typewriter, a Georgian partner's desk, framed illusionist posters and the wall of the study or library covered with amusing props: antique pistols, revolvers, daggers, swords, maces, ropes and crossbows. And Houdini’s handcuffs.
I like Deathtrap— it’s marvellously old-fashioned, civilised escapism. A film which grows on you with every viewing. Wickedly entertaining and great fun: a perfect film for a Friday evening or a late Saturday night. Roger Ebert liked it too— which is always reassuring, yet (surprisingly) he rates Deathtrap’s tight plotting one notch above the Anthony Shaffer equivalent in Sleuth. I’m not sure I can go with that one, as Shaffer’s script is genius— a Cluedobethan pastiche—and Sleuth remains one of my all-time top three films, but Caine, as ever, is on top form. He’s especially good at writers and academics, essentially playing the same character (less murderous intentions) in Losey’s The Romantic Englishwoman (1975) and Educating Rita (1983).
Christopher Reeve’s brilliant, too— it’s easy to forget just how good an actor he was. Clifford, in Deathtrap, like a preppy Studio 54 busboy circa 1979: blow-dry, buff and pixie boots. Really vicious. It’s priceless. And his mannerisms! In that bit, when he knows he’s about to be murdered. And there’s an annoying wife, Myra (Dyan Cannon), an annoying psychic neighbour, Helga Ten Dorp (Irene Worth) and an annoying lawyer, Porter Milgrim (Henry Jones) (why are Americans so obsessed with their tax returns?). In fact, Bruhl’s wife is SO bloody annoying (spending 90% of her screen time running around the windmill in hysterics); it explains— to some extent— Sidney Bruhl’s dastardly skulduggery. Apart, of course, from his quick, and perhaps unlikely, snog with Reeve. But hey, that would be giving the plot away.
Deathtrap is available to watch via DVD and Blu-ray and the various digital download channels, including Amazon Prime Video and Apple TV (previously iTunes).
You've just been reading a newsletter for both free and 'paid-for' subscribers. I hope you enjoyed it. Thank you to all those of you who have signed up. Really appreciated. To view the other films we’ve covered so far, please go to the Luke Honey WEEKEND FLICKS. archive. ‘Paid for’ subscribers get two weekend film recommendations, access to the entire archive and the ability to comment. By the end of the year, there should be over 100 film recommendations in the archive.
I will be back next Friday. In the meantime, I hope you have a relaxing and cinematic Sunday. So let’s settle down with a cocktail and a film recommendation this evening? I can’t think of anything more civilised.