Peeping Tom
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Synopsis
A frank exploration of voyeurism and violence, Michael Powell’s extraordinary film is the story of a psychopathic cameraman—his childhood traumas, sexual crises, and murderous revenge as an adult. Reviled by critics upon its initial release for its deeply unsettling subject matter, the film has since been hailed as a masterpiece.
Picture 6/10
The Criterion Collection’s original DVD edition for Michael Powell’s Peeping Tom presents the film in the aspect ratio of 1.78:1 (not 1.66:1) on a dual-layer disc. The standard-definition image has been enhanced for widescreen televisions.
Taken from the restored 35mm interpositive, the end results are fine for the period. The restoration work has cleaned things up admirably enough, with larger flaws and scratches infrequently popping up. Detail is good for the format, though longer shots do look a bit fuzzier than others.
The encode is about as good as can be expected. Grain is evident, if managed a bit, which isn’t too big of a surprise. Artifacts are minimal, though still about what one should expect from the format. Colors can be rather bland despite the pops of orange and red, and admittedly, it wasn’t until I saw the recent 4K presentation that I noticed just how vibrant and colorful the film actually is.
Based on the restoration and the period, the DVD looks about as good as can be expected.
Audio 6/10
The Dolby Digital 1.0 monaural soundtrack is also about as good as can be expected. Dialogue is clear, and damage isn't a real concern outside of background noise here and there. The track can also come off a bit flat, with the music getting a bit harsh, but that's about the worst of it. In general, it's perfectly acceptable.
Extras 7/10
Criterion’s special edition only included a couple features, including an audio commentary recorded by Laura Mulvey, ported over from Criterion’s 1994 LaserDisc edition.
With a hint of shame, I must admit that I did not care for Mulvey's track after first listening to it back in 2000,. I found it a dry, meandering experience bordering on arrogant, leading me to dismiss her comments around the film right out of the gate. I’ve carried that with me since, leading me to dread a revisit with this edition (24 years later), only to find it wasn’t that bad. In fact, I’d now say it’s pretty good, though not without its flaws from a presentation perspective.
In terms of content, her insights into the film’s meta-examination of voyeurism and how that relates to cinema’s “ease” in allowing audiences to be voyeurs and “intrude” on the action themselves prove helpful, along with her comments on how the film satirizes the British film industry of the time through the film-within-the-film (which seems to get funnier each time I watch it). Mulvey also breaks down the psychology of the film’s main character, referencing Freud and Oedipus (with mention that Powell and writer Leo Marks had originally intended to make a film about Freud) before rounding things out with the more obvious elements like phallic imagery (the tripod leg, for instance) and the male gaze.
I’m not sure why I reacted so poorly to it initially, though if I had to guess, it would come down simply to the fact I wasn’t terribly fond of the movie at the time and was also—if arguably still—an immature idiot. And though I appreciate the track more now, I still find it a bit too dry and stuffy, which is a possible side effect of her obvious reading from a script.
Outside of a gallery and the film’s trailer, Criterion closes off the supplements with the 51-minute documentary A Very British Psycho, which ends up serving two purposes. First, it works as a making-of, gathering interviews with cast and crew members (including stars Boehm and Anna Massey, the latter of whom didn’t care for the film) and then critics and scholars. Even Michael Powell’s son, Columba Powell, pops up to talk about his appearance as the young Mark Lewis.
The documentary’s second purpose is to provide a brief biography of the film’s writer, Leo Marks. Marks served as a cryptographer for the SOE during WWII, and he talks about his experiences (what he can, at any rate) and his involvement in developing the “Silk Code.” His experiences appear to have influenced his writing of the film on some level, at least when it came to the psychological complexities of the character. He also discusses the script and how he came to work with Powell, the two originally planning to do a project on Freud.
Jumping smoothly between its two subjects, it’s a terrific documentary that does a thorough job of covering both.
Though not as stacked as other editions released through the years, it’s not a bad batch of material that remained exclusive to Criterion’s release.
Closing
Though clearly bettered since (including Criterion’s own Blu-ray and 4K editions) it was still a decent release for the time.
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