Peeping Tom (1961)

Today I had one of those headaches...the kind that might be a migraine or it might be an aneurysm. It was making me dizzy and sick to my stomach and, as this film played quietly on the TV, all I could think was "This is the last movie I'm ever gonna see? Gah!" I'm glad I'm feeling better...this being my last movie on earth would be even worse than eating liver and brussel sprouts as my last meal on death row.

So. There's this aspiring filmmaker who was tortured by his father -- a biologist studying and filming the effects of fear on a growing child -- and is now frightening and filming ladies as he kills them. I've never understood people who were abused thinking it's a good idea to abuse others...I mean, they know better than anyone else what a horrible idea it is. Still, I can't quibble with the evidence that it happens all the time, so I won't complain about the theory behind the madness of the leading man. I can, however, complain about the film as a work of art. But I don't really think it's worth the effort.

D