De Palma is also making a film during a period of time when Italian cinema was capitalizing on the concept of Hitchcock thrillers. In general, it is common for exploitation titles to be released that mirror the most popular genre films of any given era. In other cases, an entire new wave of genre films populate specific cultures. Italian literature was inspired by Hitchcock's films and began releasing thriller novels in the same vein. These novels would then inspire the "Giallo" wave in Italy, in which filmmakers were making their own kinds of Hitchcock thrillers. With a more violent approach to thrillers, Giallo films would go on to inspire a lot of '70s and '80s slasher movies in America. Brian De Palma's Dressed to Kill is a Giallo thriller that builds on Hitchcock's Psycho in a more contemporary way. Everything in the film is deliberate, like the depiction of sexuality, violence and mental health, which is not bound by the obligatory constraints of Psycho. Dressed to Kill is stylistically one of the most compelling films of the '80s and doubles down on Hitchcock thrillers and giallo cinema in every way. For this reason alone, it might be Brian De Palma's greatest film.

The only thing that might keep Dressed to Kill from being De Palma's overall masterpiece is a misstep in terms of the actual reveal of the killer. There isn't an "aha" moment that audiences are expecting where Liz or Peter actually discover the truth for themselves. The final cross-cutting sequence had an opportunity to capitalize on this by having Liz discover something in Elliot's office that reveals the truth just moments before being attacked. While it makes sense why De Palma would want to mirror Psycho instead (literally having a wig fall from the killer's head), the "aha" moment would have been an effective deviation from the 1960 classic. With that being said, there is no denying the overwhelming style and craft in Dressed to Kill as well as a personal element for Brian De Palma that makes the film his thriller masterpiece. While the performances are worth noting, especially Michael Caine and Nancy Allen, it is Brian De Palma's presence that adds extra depth to the story.

When he was a child, honing his earliest directorial skills with a camera, his mother confided in him about suspecting De Palma's father of cheating on her. At his mother's request, De Palma would follow his father around with his camera and record his movements in order to try and catch him in the act. It is easy to see how this would stick with someone, it just happened to stick with a cinematic artist throughout his formative years. Those experiences not only inspired Dressed to Kill, but they also inspired the inclusion of the Peter character. Peter (played by Keith Gordon) is an unexpected highlight of the film. It's almost a wonder what a child's perspective would be doing in a story like this, but his inclusion is vital to the film's progression. Peter is clearly a conduit for De Palma himself, who uses his unique skills and talents to capture the truth about Elliot (or Elliot's "patient") with a camera. This aspect is also a comment on Hitchcock's use of voyeurism in Rear Window, which is expanded on through De Palma's personal touch. It becomes the essential piece of Dressed to Kill's structure. To top this all off, De Palma's visual craft is on display in a myriad of ways that include split-screen remembrances, intentional reverse shots in a mirror and immersive shot compositions. De Palma's vision, mixed with engaging performances and Pino Donaggio's mesmerizing score, makes Dressed to Kill the quintessential thriller of the 1980s.

4K ULTRA HD LIMITED EDITION CONTENTS

4K (2160p) UHD Blu-ray presentation in Dolby Vision (HDR10 compatible)

Original lossless 1.0 mono soundtrack

Optional lossless 5.1 soundtrack

Optional English subtitles for the deaf and hard of hearing

Brand new audio commentary by critics Drusilla Adeline and Joshua Conkel

Audio commentary by critic Maitland McDonagh

Beyond Good and Evil, a brand new visual essay by critics BJ and Harmony Colangelo

The Empathy of Dressed to Kill, a brand new visual essay by critic Jessica Crets

Strictly Business, a 2022 interview with actress Nancy Allen

Killer Frames, a 2022 interview with associate producer/production manager Fred C. Caruso

An Imitation of Life, a 2022 interview with actor Keith Gordon

Archival interviews with actors Angie Dickinson, Nancy Allen and Keith Gordon, and producer George Litto

The Making of a Thriller, an archival documentary on the making of the film

Unrated, R-rated and TV-rated comparison featurette

Slashing Dressed to Kill, an archival featurette examining the changes made to avoid an X rating

Photo gallery

Theatrical trailer

Reversible sleeve featuring original and newly commissioned artwork by Gilles Vranckx

Collector's booklet featuring new writing on the film by Sara Michelle Fetters, Alexandra Heller-Nicholas, Matthew Sorrento and Heather Wixson

More from the Deadline obituary:

Born Samuel Arthur Williams on January 20, 1946, in Philadelphia, Williams was a prolific playwright, screenwriter, actor, and producer.

Performing as Samm Williams, he got his start on the New York stage in the early 1970s, appearing in notable plays such as Black Jesus and, with the New York’s Negro Ensemble Company, Nowhere to Run, Nowhere to Hide and Liberty Calland. By the mid-’70s he began performing in other Off Broadway shows under the name Samm-Art Williams.

By the end of the decade, Williams had made his mark as a stage writer, and is today best known for Home, a drama originally staged by the Negro Ensemble Company in 1979 that moved to Broadway the following year. Home will be revived on Broadway beginning this June is a major Roundabout Theatre Company production directed by Kenny Leon.

The production begins previews May 17 at the Todd Haimes Theatre, opening on June 5.

Home is described by Roundabout as “a muscular and melodic coming-of-age story that gives voice to the unbreakable spirit of all Americans who have been searching for a place to belong.” The drama tells the story of Cephus Miles, a black Southern farmer thrown in jail for opposing the Vietnam draft and later moving North only to experience further difficulties before finally returning home.

The original Broadway production was nominated for the Best Play Tony Award and ran for 278 performances. Williams’ other stage credits include Welcome To Black River and Friends.

Williams also kept busy throughout the 1980s and ’90s writing for such TV shows as The New Mike Hammer, Cagney and Lacey, Badges, John Henry, Frank’s Place, Miami Vice, The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air, and Martin, among others. He received a 1985 Emmy nomination (Outstanding Writing in a Variety or Music Program) for Motown Returns to the Apollo (shared with fellow writers Buz Kohan and Peter Elbling).

As a producer, Williams was Emmy-nominated for Frank’s Place, and scored major TV hits with The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air, Hangin’ With Mr. Cooper, Martin and The Good News.

A recognizable actor, Williams made notable appearances in 1984’s Blood Simple and as the enslaved person Jim in a 1985 American Playhouse/PBS limited series production of The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. Other acting credits include guest appearances in 227, Miami Vice, Frank’s Place, The Women of Brewster Place, The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air, A Rage In Harlem and Hangin’ With Mr. Cooper.

On the big screen, he made his debut The Wanderers (1979), and the following year played a subway police officer in director Brian De Palma’s Dressed to Kill.

Accolades include a Guggenheim Fellowship, The National Endowment for the Arts Fellowship for Playwriting, and other awards for writing. He was an Artist-in-Residence at North Carolina Central University, where he taught classes on equity theater and the art of playwriting.

(Thanks to Hugh!)

A caustically funny cosmic joke of a film about an insecure actor who finds a miracle cure for his facial disfigurement, only to be upstaged by a stranger who oozes self-confidence despite (still) having the exact same condition the main character had once allowed to hold him back, Aaron Schimberg’s ruthless and Escher-like “A Different Man” might have felt cruel if not for how cleverly it complicates its punchline.

Are we supposed to be laughing at someone — someone who’s been treated like a monster for his entire adult life — just because they couldn’t resist the opportunity to shed their skin? Anyone familiar with Schimberg’s “Chained for Life,” which similarly defenestrated the notion of disabilities as “God’s mistakes,” already knows the answer to that question. Besides, who among us would pass up the chance to look like Sebastian Stan?

In that light, it’s more tempting to interpret “A Different Man” as a dark and damning satire of our social conditioning, which has convinced us to see asymmetry as ugliness, and internalize ugliness as inhuman. But while that might be a more accurate distillation of what Schimberg is doing here, leaving it there would fail to convey the full ambition of a deliriously surreal psycho-thriller that complicates its own identity at every turn. By refracting Brian De Palma’s self-reflexiveness and the Coen brothers’ mordant fatalism through the prism of his most personal obsessions, Schimberg creates a house of mirrors so brilliant and complex that it becomes impossible to match any of his characters to their own reflections, and absolutely useless to reduce the movie around them to the stuff of moral instruction.

If “A Different Man” starts by preying upon the same kind of pity that backstopped the likes of “Wonder,” “Freaks,” “The Elephant Man,” and any number of other films about how atypical-looking people have feelings too, it almost immediately begins weaponizing that pity against the audience — as an impediment to empathy, rather than a pathway to it. You will feel bad for Edward by the time this movie arrives at its perfect final line, but not for the reasons you think.

The movie’s first scene also makes us feel bad for Edward in similarly unexpected ways. Our concern isn’t focused on his neurofibromatosis (which has caused non-cancerous tumors to grow around the nerve tissue inside his face, swelling it in every direction at once), but rather that Edward’s condition has forced the wannabe actor to take a role in a Kaufman-esque PSA about the protocols of working with disfigured people. After all, the only real precedent for someone like him to succeed in the movies is probably “Under the Skin” breakout Adam Pearson (a dead ringer for Edward), though it’s unclear if that film exists in this film’s alternate-reality New York, a semi-heightened place which feels almost as blithely hellish as the nowhere city in “Beau Is Afraid.” The closest Edward can get to his dreams is performing an exaggerated version of himself in a project written by — and for the benefit of — the same people who make him scared to leave his dilapidated apartment. “Fear is a reaction,” someone insists. “Courage is a choice.”

Another instructive quote is waiting for Edward when he gets back home, as his greasy super reminds him that “All unhappiness in life comes from not accepting what it is” (words of wisdom that he attributes to Lady Gaga). So while Edward is delighted to find that a free-spirited Norwegian beauty named Ingrid (“The Worst Person in the World” star Renate Reinsve) has moved into the apartment next door, his instant crush is tempered by the reality of the situation — a reality that persists even after she invites him inside and intimately squeezes out the blackheads on his nose.

Maybe Ingrid, who has an endless rotation of strange men to choose from, simply doesn’t see Edward as a sexual being. Or maybe she develops feelings for him too, but denies them to herself because he’s not the kind of guy a woman like her “should” want. Or maybe the manic pixie dream girl energy that Edward projects onto her masks the fact that she’s a narcissistic sociopath who has no regard for other people’s feelings? It’s hard to see things clearly under so many layers of social coding, and Umberto Smerilli’s woozy, clarinet-driven score makes hard truths melt away like warm butter sliding off a knife.

It won’t be long before Edward’s face disassembles in similar fashion. A single trip to a De Palma-coded doctor’s office sets him up with an experimental pill that could reverse his condition, and — just a few days later — Mike Marino’s remarkably life-like makeup begins to peel off in clumps of raw flesh, revealing that Sebastian Stan has been hiding beneath Edward’s tumors the whole time.

Unsurprisingly, some things come pretty easy when you look like Captain America’s BFF. Bar bathroom blowjobs from people you’ve just met. A lucrative career in real estate. But “Guy” — as Edward creatively renames himself after faking his own death — can’t shake the feeling that something isn’t right. Why did the guy who used to live across the hall from him hang himself even though he had a hot girlfriend? When an ice cream truck had to drive on the sidewalk in order to squeeze past the ambulance that came to fetch the body, why did the whole scene feel like such a wickedly cutting metaphor for Edward’s entire future? And when Guy discovers that Ingrid has written an off-Broadway play about Edward’s life and eventual suicide, why can’t he stop himself from auditioning?

Some movies unfold in such a fun way that it can be easy for critics to indulge in the second-hand high of relaying their plots, but I promise that I haven’t spoiled anything beyond the basic setup to a film whose pleasures rely less on surprise than the satisfaction of watching something inevitable unravel into just the right shape.

They chat about De Palma’s ability to elevate a B-Grade thriller to A-Grade material through his master craftmanship. His use of split screen and split diopter, and dialogue free scenes to show and not tell the audience the characters movements.

They gush about De Palma being one of their all time favourite directors (Felicia’s top favourite director? Maybe, probably!), and how deliberately frames each scene, and how no one is able to pace a story like him.

Felicia: The tagline for Dressed To Kill is, “Every nightmare has a beginning – this one never ends.” That’s funny. It makes it sound like it’s an extreme slasher movie.

Eugina: It does.

Felicia: I mean, technically, there are slasher elements, but it’s more of a cerebral thriller.

Eugina: As far as movies from that era go, it’s, like, slick. It’s very aesthetically pleasing, kind of. Not really like a grimy slasher film, it’s very polished and classy. Kind of a classy De Palma.

Felicia: Right? And I love you for that, because some people kind of describe him as “sleazy,” and I’m like, I don’t think he’s sleazy. He makes stuff that I think is in the back of everyone’s fantasies, and he’s just putting it out there. But it’s so beautiful to watch. His films are beautiful. They’re not sleazy, they’re not gross.

Eugina: No, it’s crafted very well.