Jack Terry is a movie soundman in Philadelphia out recording sounds one night when he witnesses a car crash into a creek. He jumps in and pulls out a young woman, but the driver of the car - a powerful senator - drowns. Jack is approached by the authorities to keep quiet, but when he… More
Jack Terry is a movie soundman in Philadelphia out recording sounds one night when he witnesses a car crash into a creek. He jumps in and pulls out a young woman, but the driver of the car - a powerful senator - drowns. Jack is approached by the authorities to keep quiet, but when he listens to his tape he is convinced the crash was not an accident but an assassination. Can he unravel the mystery before the killer comes calling on him? One of the most brilliant and overlooked political thrillers ever made, this is a fabulous movie featuring a dynamic career-best performance by John Travolta who sadly almost disappeared into obscurity afterwards until Pulp Fiction thirteen years later. It's very hard to play a complex lead in a densely-plotted thriller and yet somehow he manages to be exciting, tender, funny and guilt-ridden, all the while holding the story-threads together. Allen is fun as the dopey call-girl, Franz hits a new high in his sleazebag roles for DePalma (he doesn't even stop talking when he goes to the bathroom), and Lithgow is truly chilling as the Gordon Liddy-styled hard-as-nails killer with the coolest garrotte in cinema. The problem I have with most political thrillers is that they're all talk and no action (The Parallax View, The China Syndrome) - they may be credible but they're dull; Blow Out gets its balance of plot-twists, social commentary and hair-raising moments exactly right. It contains everything you could want to know about Nixon-era political tricks (wire-taps, surveillance, police coverups, etc), but it also has some seriously scary stalking scenes, a giddy chase through a Liberty Day parade and an amusing subplot about dubbing a horror flick. It combines DePalma's love of style and technique (split-screen, montages, complex shots, slow-motion) with his love of film engineering and technology, as Jack makes an animated film of the crash from newspaper stills and dubs his soundtrack onto them using lovely old moviolas and analogue tape machines. There's an extraordinary shot at one point when Jack finds all his tapes have been erased and the camera spins slowly around his studio, literally dizzying us with the bewildering conspiracy surrounding him. Vilmos Zsigmond's photography is stunning throughout and Pino Donaggio's lush score is haunting and poignant. The one criticism that could possibly be levelled against this movie is that it cribs from many sources, notably Rashomon, Vertigo, and Blowup (explicit in the title), and the premise is a variation on the infamous 1969 Chappaquiddick incident (senator Ted Kennedy crashed his car into a sea-channel and escaped but his passenger, Mary Jo Kopechne, drowned). But DePalma's script is as perfectly manicured as his visuals, and has lots of good ideas of its own; Lithgow's trick of murdering two other women prior to Allen to make her death look like the work of a serial killer is a brilliant twist, and one that's been used in many subsequent thrillers. And the usual protest against DePalma's work - that he has no interest in character and directs clinically - is usually unjustified, but particularly so here - Jack is a nice guy with a guilty conscience and Travolta imbues him with energy, warmth, humor and tragic pathos. This movie is everything a good thriller should be and, along with William Richert's equally low-profile Winter Kills, is the touchstone American political conspiracy movie.