‘You remind me of this hamster I had when I was a kid...’
There is an argument that, as film is a visual medium, filmmakers should lean heavily into film as what Hitchcock called ‘pure cinema’. Telling the story using only the moving image. You’ve got this extraordinary visual power that no other medium possesses. Surely, it makes sense to exploit it for all its worth. Well, Ken Russell does that in spades on his 1984 film Crimes of Passion; the issue is, I’m not sure there is much else going on behind the visual craft of it all…
China Blue (Kathleen Turner) is a highly sought-after sex worker. Reverend Peter Shayne (Anthony Perkins) is a fire-and-brimstone preacher with an unhealthy obsession. Bobby Grady is an ordinary middle-class electronics store owner trapped in a passionless marriage. The three of them interact in strange and unexpected ways. That’s pretty much it in terms of plot.
Russell is a bit of a cinematic blind spot for me. I’ve somehow made it to the grand old age of 39 without having seen his seminal classic The Devils, for example. Crimes of Passion, not considered his best work, is still a good introduction to Russell’s gonzo, provocative style of filmmaking. He wrings excellent performances from his cast here, with Turner at once vulnerable, exotic and alluring, while Perkins, a sweaty mess throughout, is worryingly convincing as a psychotic preacher, although I suppose he has form in that area.
The issue I have with Crimes of Passion is that while there are moments of genuine emotion and raw authenticity, too often the film feels like style over substance. There is an argument that style is all you really need. This is still a film bursting with emotion, particularly from Turner, but it all feels empty.
