This baroque adaptation of James Ellroy's novel by Brian De Palma is a dense, exciting and generous thriller, which says everything about the complicated relationship that the filmmaker has with the dream factory...

A strange, imperfect but exciting object, "The Black Dahlia" has for Brian De Palma the air of a Hollywood last stand, a thwarted will. Produced by Art Linson, the man who financed "The Untouchables" and "Casualties of War" under classic conditions, this film is, this time, edited on the fringes of the studios, in line with the European projects shot by the filmmaker of "Femme Fatale" from the 2000s.

Relying on a myriad of foreign capital, it reconstructs in Bulgaria the Los Angeles of the 1940s, the setting for the investigation into the barbaric murder of Elizabeth Short, a beautiful and naive aspiring actress. Between concerns about economy and claimed scale - the presence of Scarlett Johansson, then at her peak, attests to this - the greenness of the staging and the deliquescent atmosphere, extreme stylization and explosions of savagery, "The Black Dahlia" traces a strange third way.

Its charm is nourished precisely by this ambivalence: in this, faithful to James Ellroy's novel, De Palma nestles in a profusion of trompe-l'oeil and colorful illusions, sketches lying and twin characters, weaves a maze of intrigues where vertigo and enthusiasm compete with a mixture of frustration and bitterness.

However, one must allow oneself to get lost in this semi-voluntary confusion to better appreciate the flashes of brilliance that emerge here and there, to cling sometimes to these captivating scansions that belong only to Ellroy (the lyrical voiceover), sometimes to the old obsessions of a filmmaker who, despite his brilliance and application, does not always manage to completely bend this rich material to his authorial vision.

However, "The Black Dahlia" awakens old "Depalmian" ghosts: the ashen photo of Vilmos Zsigmond, director of photography of "Blow out" (twenty-five years since they had filmed together), the furtive but traumatic presence of William Finley, the bespectacled actor of "Phantom of the Paradise", the spurts of hemoglobin and the large knives of "Sisters"... After this final swim in troubled waters, the filmmaker will definitively turn his back on Hollywood.

The ending of Snake Eyes has been a point of contention for many viewers and critics. Some feel it does not provide the cathartic resolution that the buildup demands. However, a defense of the ending reveals it to be consistent with the film’s overarching themes and narrative structure.

One of the primary criticisms of the ending is that it does not offer a traditional, triumphant conclusion for Rick Santoro. Instead, Santoro’s moment of redemption is followed by personal ruin—his exposure to the conspiracy leads to his downfall. This outcome, however, is more realistic and in line with the film’s thematic exploration of corruption and redemption. It underscores the idea that proper redemption comes with a price and that the path to integrity is fraught with personal sacrifice. Santoro’s fall from grace is a poignant reminder that actions have consequences, and in a world rife with corruption, doing the right thing often comes at a significant personal cost.

The ending also reinforces the film’s theme of perception versus reality. While Santoro manages to uncover the truth, the cost is high, and the resolution is far from clear-cut. The audience is left to grapple with the ambiguity of Santoro’s victory—he has done the right thing, but his life is left in shambles. This ambiguity is a deliberate choice by De Palma, reflecting the complexities of real-life justice and morality. It challenges the audience to consider the true nature of victory and whether it is always as clean and satisfying as we might hope.

Snake Eyes deliberately subverts the expectations of the crime thriller genre. Instead of providing a neat resolution, it leaves viewers unease and contemplation. This subversion is a bold move that distinguishes the film from more formulaic thrillers. By refusing to adhere to a conventional happy ending, Snake Eyes remains true to its themes and offers a more thought-provoking conclusion.

Snake Eyes is a film that delves into deep and complex themes, including corruption, the illusion of power, and the dichotomy of perception versus reality. Its ending, while controversial, is a fitting conclusion that aligns with these themes, offering a realistic and thought-provoking resolution. Brian De Palma’s direction and Nicolas Cage’s compelling performance make Snake Eyes a film that deserves to be revisited and appreciated for its ambition and nuance. The film challenges its audience to look beyond the surface and consider the more profound implications of its story, making it a genuinely unsung gem in the world of cinema.

“What the Devil hath joined together let no man cut asunder!” Future Lois Lane Margot Kidder plays French Canadian twins, one murderously deranged, the other dangerously protective of her, in De Palma's bravura deconstruction of Psycho, a Hitchcockian thriller that doubles as an inspired essay on the Hitchcockian thriller, one of scanty few New York City movies to remember that Staten Island is one of the city's boroughs, and a work of complete visceral pleasure from the first notes of Bernard Herrmann’s score (and the film's Candid Camera parodying rug-pull open) to the last blood curdling shriek. Having gotten his first real taste of blood in this, his first bona fide thriller, De Palma would keep on twisting the knife. There was no going back.