Wasn't there some significance to the title in James Cain's novel and the 1946 movie version? It's a long time since I visited either so I can't be certain, but I seem to remember the postie's propensity for ringing twice was at least referred to. Unless I missed it, it gets nary a mention in this lethargic 1981 remake of the original, making the title somewhat meaningless.
Anyway, Jack Nicholson reins in his trademark rakish, devilish attitude to play the role of the drifter (previously played by John Garfield) who conspires with luscious housewife and gas station-diner cook Jessica Lange to do away with her annoying Greek husband, Nick. Nick takes his wife for granted; he has a Stavros accent and buys himself silk nightgowns and so deserves to die. Jack and Jessie make a convincing couple – probably more so than Garfield and Lana Turner, although that's the only respect in which this version surpasses the original. Their attraction is animal, their love-making more of an adversarial duel than a demonstration of intimacy as they tear at each other on the diner's kitchen table. It's easy to see why Cora falls for Frank, even as his ardour cools. He offers a way out from the drudgery of her life with Nick. But for Frank you always get the impression (until the end at least) that it's more about the sex, and that he never really knows what he wants.
The story is slow in unfolding, but drags fatally once the killer couple get away with their crime. Perhaps that's deliberate, to demonstrate the aimlessness of their relationship – or of any relationship that isn't fuelled by love. The couple blow hot and cold with each other as they wait for Cora's brief probation period to be over so that they can move away from the scene of their crime. You get the impression that, if Cora's life hadn't been cut short, they would have ended up either destroying one another or drifted aimlessly through life long after any love they feel has been extinguished, wondering why the hell they stay together. Either way, you don't really care that much whether their end is happy or tragic.
If you have a choice, watch the original (or the Italian movie, Ossessione, another version). If you don't, this one's OK but it's nothing special.
Anyway, Jack Nicholson reins in his trademark rakish, devilish attitude to play the role of the drifter (previously played by John Garfield) who conspires with luscious housewife and gas station-diner cook Jessica Lange to do away with her annoying Greek husband, Nick. Nick takes his wife for granted; he has a Stavros accent and buys himself silk nightgowns and so deserves to die. Jack and Jessie make a convincing couple – probably more so than Garfield and Lana Turner, although that's the only respect in which this version surpasses the original. Their attraction is animal, their love-making more of an adversarial duel than a demonstration of intimacy as they tear at each other on the diner's kitchen table. It's easy to see why Cora falls for Frank, even as his ardour cools. He offers a way out from the drudgery of her life with Nick. But for Frank you always get the impression (until the end at least) that it's more about the sex, and that he never really knows what he wants.
The story is slow in unfolding, but drags fatally once the killer couple get away with their crime. Perhaps that's deliberate, to demonstrate the aimlessness of their relationship – or of any relationship that isn't fuelled by love. The couple blow hot and cold with each other as they wait for Cora's brief probation period to be over so that they can move away from the scene of their crime. You get the impression that, if Cora's life hadn't been cut short, they would have ended up either destroying one another or drifted aimlessly through life long after any love they feel has been extinguished, wondering why the hell they stay together. Either way, you don't really care that much whether their end is happy or tragic.
If you have a choice, watch the original (or the Italian movie, Ossessione, another version). If you don't, this one's OK but it's nothing special.