
Kino Lorber
Play Misty for Me is rightly celebrated as Clint Eastwood’s debut film as a director.
This was considered something of a novelty at the time—an actor directing his own movie— and likely no one could foresee his going on to be recognized as an A-list director here well into the next century.
Clint patterned his directorial style somewhat on that of cult-favorite director Don Siegel, who had directed him earlier in Coogan’s Bluff as well as the then just-completed (I think) Dirty Harry. As payback, Siegel has a small role as a bartender in this picture, and handles it quite well.
When Play Misty for Me was released in 1971, it had been less than a decade since Clint had been Rowdy Yates, the ramrod on TV’s long-running western, Rawhide. A trip to Italy, though, had unexpectedly led to his quick rise to international big-screen stardom.
He was at his handsomest here, complete with big, fluffy, perfect early seventies hair and sideburns. With his trademark whispery delivery, he seems an odd choice to be cast as a deejay but it works, I guess, kind of on an ASMR level.
Director Eastwood took no chances, surrounding himself with some of the best in the field behind-the-scenes, including Bruce Surtees, a brilliant cinematographer whose name would long be associated with Clint’s pictures. Surtees opens the film with gorgeous overhead shots of California’s small but scenic Carmel-by-the-Sea, a lovely, photogenic area where Eastwood would later become mayor.
One of the writers on Misty is Dean Riesner, a former silent movie child star and a writer who worked with Clint on Rawhide as well as several film projects both before and after this one. The dialogue is often sharp and sometimes witty.
Plotwise, this is pretty much the original “fatal attraction” film. Clint’s deejay has a rabid fan, portrayed by Jessica Walter, who connives a sneaky way to meet him and spend the night with him. He’s okay with it as a one-night stand but she keeps showing up, always at inopportune moments, and little by little, the viewer begins to see hints that she just might not be
As all of this happens while our hero is attempting to get back together with the girl he claims to truly love, played by Donna Mills, the obsessive fangirl becomes more and more of a bother, then a worry, and finally very much a fear.
Clint is Clint.
He’s handsome, intense, brooding, and occasionally gritty. Everything that made Clint a superstar is on display here except for the poncho, the cowboy hat, and the stogie. His attempts at romantic scenes mostly fall flat. As a movie hero, he’s always great, but his “everyman” character here feels at times forced.
Jessica Walter gives the picture’s best performance.
She had been one of those actresses who just seemed to pop up everywhere throughout my entire life. From the pages of Harvey Kurtzman’s Help! magazine to a hundred guest star roles in movies and TV shows, ending her career with a gem of a role on the hit comedy series Arrested Development. Her role in this movie is one of her largest and most memorable as her character slowly reveals her psychotic mindset. At first just obsessive, she still seems nice, but impressions quickly change and before you know it, she becomes suicidal, then homicidal.
Donna Mills is okay as the love interest, but somehow never caught on in theatrical films. She just didn’t have that big screen magnetism that movie stars tend to have. Outside of numerous bit part players, the only other major actors in the picture are James McEachin and John Larch. The former is a favorite of mine from that period (Got to exchange some emails with him back in 2008), here as a fellow disc jockey. He and Clint play off each other well and I wish his part in the film was larger. Veteran actor Larch, as the police sergeant, gets most of the best lines and has a great delivery.
A lot of the scenes here take place in dark nights or dark rooms, giving the chance for lots of purposeful lighting for effect. Erroll Garner’s beautiful composition, “Misty,” doesn’t get nearly as much play as you’d expect, but Roberta Flack’s hit recording of “The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face” makes its first appearance herein. Played over wonderfully sensuous scenes of Clint and Donna together, the slow song and long sequence nevertheless brings the actual plot to a halt for a while.
The fact that it’s immediately followed up with scenes set at a real jazz festival means that the plot doesn’t pick back up any time soon. With nearly a half hour more to go, overall, the whole thing feels a bit too drawn out. Even then, the ending has always seemed somewhat overblown to me and still does.
Extras include audio commentaries, interviews, featurettes, a documentary, photo galleries, Trailers From Hell trailer, video essay, tv spots, trailers and teaser.
Even without much gore, Jessica Walter’s performance, packed with several jump scares, carries a lot of weight when it comes to unnervingly frightening creepiness and Eastwood is watchable in anything. Seeing him as he teaches himself how to direct right in front of you is a trip, too.
Booksteve recommends.


You must be logged in to post a comment Login