A Secret Service agent, gone to pieces after losing his wife in a furious gunfight, comes out of three months in a sanatorium with shaky hands and a stupendous suntan, and back at his apartment finds an anonymous death threat written in ancient Aramaic. The story, as it unfolds from this point, is so full of holes and baloney that the only thing to protect it from ridicule and rebuke is the professional code of ethics which prohibits a critic from "giving away" the revelations in a mystery movie. Making matters worse, the camera weaves and wobbles around as if thoroughly sloshed, and the image, to complete the impression of drunkenness, is so grainy that it's almost as if the camera is seeing spots. Director Jonthan Demme, trying to work his way up from such trash as Crazy Mama and Caged Heat, models this movie after the work of Alfred Hitchcock, but he does so only at the cost of seeming a brazen social climber and poseur. With Roy Scheider, Janet Margolin, and Christopher Walken. (1979) — Duncan Shepherd
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