It exists only to sound a symbolic clang, and as a result it rings false. Caught up in the unfolding narrative, you forget that everyone is subject to lapses of judgment and concentration.įor example, Kasdan overreaches for a foreshadowing symbol when he depicts Ned recoiling at the sound of a jail door clanging shut in the corridor behind him, moments after concluding a visit with an imprisoned client. A director skillful enough to impose a style can also lull you into a false sense of security. "Body Heat" seems to be the work of a seasoned, confident stylist.Īs a rule, Kasdan's control is so unerring that the occasional miscalculations seem unusually disruptive. Unlike most novice directors, he can seldom be detected groping in the dark for the right nuances and undertones. Previously overshadowed by his association as screenwriter of "The Empire Strikes Back" and "Raiders of the Lost Ark" with the spectacles of George Lucas and Steven Spielberg, Kasdan now comes into his own on the strength of an intimate, spellbinding genre film. While the plot descends directly from "Double Indemnity," the savory dialogue and sultry atmosphere owe a bit more to the example of Robert Towne's ominous screenplay for "Chinatown." There's no mistaking the fact that Kasdan loves the tawdry genre he's working in.
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Just as inevitably, the best-laid murder plans unravel in the aftermath of the crime, but Kasdan adds some unexpected twists and fresh amoral wrinkles to the process.
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Inevitably, the clandestine lovers nurture a plan to get rid of him. On the prowl for casual sexual gratification, he is drawn into a torrid affair with Matty Walker (newcomer Kathleen Turner), the restless showpiece wife of a shady financier, Edmund Walker (Richard Crenna). "Body Heat," which opens today at area theaters, could prove a memorable successor to such obvious influences as "Double Indemnity" and "Chinatown." Lawrence Kasdan, making an impressive directing debut on his own original screenplay, has borrowed the basic plot outline from "Double Indemnity." Ned Racine, a likable but corruptible young criminal lawyer played by William Hurt, pursues a halfhearted, modestly crooked practice in the small Florida town of Miranda Beach. The first discernible image is a column of smoke from a distant fire, billowing slowly upward against a floridly tinted night sky - the first line, heard before the speaker can be identified, is just as concise and suggestive: "My God, it's hot!" After dropping these incendiary hints, "Body Heat" proceeds to associate them with a case fo criminally destructive passion - the hothouse atmosphere becomes a stylistic precondition for the impulse to surrender. The astute new murder melodrama "Body Heat" is one of those rare movies that reinforce their themes with an insinuating, sustained tone.