LOOKER: Blu-ray (The Alan Ladd Company, 1981) Warner Archive

There is a moment in Michael Crichton’s Looker (1981) when Kathryn Witt – as overwrought model, Tina Cassidy – or a reasonable facsimile in stunt double (who ought to have been paid extra) performs an impossibly heroic plummet from a fourth story window (in slo-mo, and, in nothing more protective than some skimpy lingerie) landing on her back on the roof of a Buick, where one can almost excuse the elephantine loopholes in this otherwise thoroughly flimsy plot - decidedly par for the course of what sold as sexy suspense in the early eighties. Crichton’s ongoing love affair with bizarre themed thrillers has led him down many garden paths – but only occasionally to greatness. Not this time around, alas. But lest we forget, here is the man who shook us to our very core with his assumption a prominent hospital was harvesting black market body parts for its own profit (Coma, 1978), and, took us on a harrowing tour of the Delos Corp. that, having created super-robots for sport, are unprepared to control the machines when they suddenly develop artificial intelligence and seek to annihilate their human creators (Westworld, 1973). In Looker, Crichton taps into the television age’s quest for human perfection. It is a weak premise to start, that only devolves into more ominously shaky fodder for the popcorn-pluggers as the plot progresses…or rather, unravels.

We meet Beverly Hills plastic surgeon to the stars, Dr. Larry Roberts (Albert Finney), suspected by L.A. Lieutenant Masters (Dorian Harewood) in a series of homicides involving three of his former patients; all of them, perky super models working in television commercials. The first victim, Lisa Convey (Terri Welles) had approached Roberts with a laundry list of microscopic ‘defects’ she would like to have fixed; quoting absurd statistics, such as her nose point-two millimeters too narrow and cheek bones that are point-four millimeters too high. Roberts is reluctant to perform these seemingly gratuitous surgeries. After all, there is nothing wrong with Lisa Convey, if only she would stop critically navel-gazing at her own face and body in three giant mirrors in her pink/plush boudoir. Alas, as Roberts’ business partner, Dr. Jim Belfield (Darryl Hickman) points out – if he refuses to help Lisa, some less than altruistic plastic surgeon with less skill just might. So, Lisa goes under Roberts’ knife, emerging…well…perfect. Too bad, such perfection is very – VERY – short-lived. Preparing for a hot date, Lisa disrobes for her lover and answers her apartment doorbell in heels, black bra and panties, only to find no one waiting for her on the other side; a curious infrared glow momentarily obliterating her thought process.

The murder that kicks off Looker truly makes no sense at all, as our disoriented Lisa casually passes from one room into another inside her Pepto-Bismol bathed penthouse; the billowy and half drawn curtails, lazily caressed by a soft summer breeze, beckoning her onto the balcony from whence she will take her final tumble over the guardrail to her presumed suicide. Alas, from out of the shadows there emerges a shadowy figure wearing dark glasses and carrying a curious light-emitting stun-gun. Later dubbed the Moustache Man (Tim Rossovich), this insidious stranger rather obviously plants a nubby leather button from a man’s suit jacket on the unruffled comforter of Lisa’s bed; also, an expensive silver pen near her dressing table as clues before departing the room, leaving Lisa’s terrier, Teddy behind as the only real witness to his crime. A scant 24 hrs. later, Lt. Masters presents Roberts with both the button and the pen, grilling him over his whereabouts on the night of the murder. 

Looker would have a lot more to say, first, about our collective and thoroughly perverse aspiration to be ‘superficially’ beautiful, and, second, regarding its ominous puppet master, John Reston (James Coburn) – the CEO of a spurious ‘market research’ firm called Digital Matrix, if only Crichton’s story were not so heavily laden with every cliché to pull a whodunit and how’d they do that? like a pair of defecating jackrabbits from a cheap magician’s brutally weathered top hat. The movie also stars Partridge Family ex-pat and future L.A. Law alumni, Susan Dey as super model and aspiring TV personality, Cindy Fairmont. Roberts takes advantage of Cindy’s attraction towards him to rather ruthlessly involve her in his investigation of Reston and Digital Matrix.  She is bait and irresistible eye candy to boot; the perfect next victim if Roberts cannot pull together the pieces of this sci-fi mishmash in time to prevent Reston from brainwashing the rest of the world, using TV commercials as his form of mind-control on an unsuspecting population. The premise for Reston hiring the Moustache Man to murder these high-priced models is fairly anemic – to avoid having to pay them residuals in perpetuity for the agreed upon usage of their likenesses, recreated by a computer program and endlessly manipulated thereafter to sell everything from floor wax to political candidates.  

Looker ought to be remembered today as the first movie to suggest some future-age computer might be able to create an uncanny simulation of real-life entirely from its stored files and images; also, noteworthy for its 3D shading done entirely within the realm of zeroes and ones. And despite some rather idiotic narrative misfires that an author/film maker of Crichton’s stature ought to have ably skirted to better effect, Looker nevertheless emerges as a loose, if marginally entertaining picture; the debut of The Alan Ladd Company as a production house, even if the picture did incur the ire of most film critics back in ’81 and showed a considerable loss on the books. In hindsight, it is the frustrating absence of logic – never applied – that most regularly threatens to wreck our enjoyment of the piece; this, and, the utter lack of character development. We know and/or get to know absolutely nothing about Dr. Larry Roberts other than his able segue from gifted plastic surgeon to crime-solving sleuth at the drop of a coin – or super model – exploiting Dey’s doe-eyed girly-girl to advance his agenda, infiltrating Digital Matrix to skillfully steal a security clearance access card right under the nose of its President, Jennifer Long (Leigh Taylor Young), who already knows what he is up to, and finally, using the Moustache Man’s light-emitting stun-gun against him in an all-out brawl and penultimate car chase – a prerequisite in all early eighties actioners. Looker is riddled in such laughable cardboard cutouts and stick figures with no soul. Mercifully, before any of them outstay their welcome, Looker is over – the plot neatly wrapped up in a hideously pedestrian showdown to end all the cloak and dagger gone before it.

We pick up the plot as Roberts, having already once refused Cindy on the high-minded premise he never dates his clients (also, because he is being shadowed by Masters at every turn, still under suspicion for Lisa’s murder), now invites Cindy as his date to an elegant soiree at Reston’s home.  At the gathering, the couple is also introduced to Jennifer. Around the dinner table, Roberts drops his bomb – explaining how in a very short period, three of his former patients have died under very mysterious circumstances. Roberts furthermore suggests the other connection worthy of a police inquest is each model committed work for Digital Matrix. Reston is cagey in his response, deferring to Jennifer who briefly explains the company was involved in critical research on life-like computer simulations that, supposedly, never panned out and became too costly to pursue. Afterwards, Reston accuses Jennifer of giving away too much. And while Cindy is still oblivious as per her part in this bait and switch, the next afternoon Roberts detects a Digital Matrix truck parked near the latest commercial photo shoot starring Cindy and a volleyball team; the girl, having to endlessly cast her scantily clad body down to the sand in a semi-erotic pose that the computer quite simply will not properly scan.   

Noting his unwavering interest in Digital Matrix, Jennifer elects to diffuse Roberts’ curiosity by giving him ‘the grand tour’ of Reston’s facility. Roberts discovers his part in their ‘research’ – as virtually all of the advertising models used by them were sent to him first for plastic surgeries. A scoring system was then employed to measure human responses to the combined visual impact of each model’s physical attributes in commercials. Alas, the computer detected more people paid attention to the models than the products being peddled in the ads. So, Digital Matrix did the spokesmodel one better, offering each woman an iron-clad contract to have her body digitally scanned and animated by a 3D simulator – an incredibly lucrative deal for the girls, as once their bodies are artificially recreated they are guaranteed paychecks for life…however long it may or may not last. Denied access to the ‘looker lab’ during his tour, Roberts makes a mental note to return to Digital Matrix after hours and investigate what goes on behind closed doors. Meanwhile, Reston sends the Moustache Man to Roberts’ Malibu beach house to anesthetize him while his home is searched for clues as to how much he truly knows about the company. Informed by Roberts of his darker intent in introducing her to Reston – not for a job, but as bait – Cindy is outraged and storms off to visit her parents. She finds mum (Georgann Johnson    ) and dad (Richard Venture) so thoroughly absorbed in their afternoon television viewing that her visit goes all but unnoticed; the boob tube having dehumanized their familial experience.

Returning to Roberts’ beach house, Cindy finds him disoriented from his confrontation with the Moustache Man, of whom he has virtually no recollection.  More than ever, Roberts wants to know what goes on in the ‘looker lab’ at Digital Matrix. Dressed in his doctor’s garb, Roberts next uses the security pass earlier swiped during his official tour to get past the front lobby guard and escorts Cindy upstairs. At first, all goes according to plan. The pass affords Roberts open access to the lab where he discovers several of the light-emitting stun guns, and a brochure that effectively explains their technology and purpose. It seems Digital Matrix has unlocked an insidious way of exploiting subliminal messaging to hypnotize consumers into buying the products they advertise. Worse, Roberts now realizes Lisa and the other dead models were all victims of L.O.O.K.E.R (or Light Ocular-Oriented Kinetic Emotive Responses); a light pulse stun gun that renders the illusion of invisibility by instantly mesmerizing its victims into losing all sense of time. Discovering Roberts and Cindy in the lab, the Moustache Man uses L.O.O.K.E.R in his assault to anesthetize them. But Roberts manages to turn the tables in time, stunning the Moustache man and making a successful escape with Cindy.

Sometime later, Roberts is engaged in a harrowing car chase with the Moustache Man, again attempting to use L.O.O.K.E.R to create a terrific smash-up. Roberts retaliates, but is eventually blinded by the stun gun, awakening, already having driven off the road and into a fountain at a nearby green space. Narrowly squeaking out of harm’s way and police incarceration, Roberts inadvertently places himself inside a Digital Matrix security car. He is driven back to the company’s headquarters just as a well-heeled flock of investors are beginning to arrive for a black-tie event where Reston’s new-age commercial programming will be unveiled. Blinding his handlers with the L.O.O.K.E.R earlier stolen from the lab, Roberts, now dressed as a security guard, infiltrates the ballroom as Reston is holding court. Spotted by Reston during his speech, Roberts escapes recapture – or worse – by the Moustache Man, who now pursues him through the bowels of this digital netherworld behind closed doors. Already taken prisoner to Digital Matrix’s command center, Cindy vows Roberts will come for her. Jennifer launches the computer program to expose the investors to Reston’s technology.

At first, the gathering is amused, and quite unaware what they are viewing are digitally manipulated images rather than real people. Meanwhile, Roberts, the Moustache Man and Reston descend into the backstage area where the cameras and artificial intelligence are set up. The Moustache Man, Roberts and Reston are all captured by the cameras and inadvertently broadcast to the investors in the ballroom. Having miraculously deduced Roberts has unearthed the truth about Reston and his organization, Lt. Masters has also arrived on the scene. At the central command center, the Moustache Man accidentally shoots Jennifer, assuming she is Cindy. As she lays dying, Jennifer manages to raise herself into the elevator where Cindy steals back the key to her handcuffs to free herself. In another case of mistaken identity, Reston inadvertently shoots the Moustache Man, assuming he is Roberts. Now, Masters emerges from the shadows and kills Reston. Relieved to be at the end of their ordeal, Roberts and Cindy are reunited; he, promising to look after her as they walk away from the carnage strewn at their feet.

In its own time, Looker was a fantastically implausible yarn. Time has since proven some merits in it open for discussion. Digital technology has made virtual reality…well…a reality – of sorts. And while the notion of scanning a person’s physical makeup in its totality to regenerate it convincingly to sell products to consumers has yet to evolve at a level where the audience is quite unaware they are being manipulated, CGI has long-since become a progressive part of our movie-going experience – creating everything from dinosaurs to avatars for our viewing pleasure. Michael Crichton’s ambitious concept is never entirely realized in Looker. And there are also some glaring loopholes in the picture’s narrative timeline, especially after Cindy and Roberts manage their escape from Digital Matrix. The action jumps directly to the car chase between Roberts and the Moustache Man with no connective explanation as to how or why night has suddenly turned to day and Roberts, only moments earlier seen with Cindy leaving Digital Matrix, should now be driving his car alone. Crichton has gone on record to explain that during the editing process he lost some crucial exposition scenes, later reinstated for Looker’s television broadcast, including a sequence where Reston thoroughly explains his motivations for the models being murdered; the girls, exploited for mere 'measurements’, Digital Matrix’s corporate policy - to ‘shred old documents’ rife for competitors to pilfer at will.

Looker is not an obvious candidate for a Blu-ray release, unless of course we are dealing with the Warner Archive (WAC) – an enterprise, of late – responsible for more than a handful of off-beat to downright awful movies receiving the full-on hi-def treatment. Why a movie studio in possession of such an embarrassment of movie-land riches should choose Looker ahead of any number of other worthy contenders for 1080p canonization remains a mystery known only to Warner’s executive brain trust and George Feltenstein, presently in charge of making such decisions. Looker is not a bad movie; just, not a terribly prepossessing one. It trips along without stumbling too often, and, under Crichton’s expert tutelage and inspiration, makes several solid points about society’s over-emphasis on superficial beauty, and, the insidious and manipulative power of television.

It also has some of the most laughably bad dialogue and situations yet to appear in a major motion picture, beginning with Lisa’s murder. Here is a gal who, wearing only a bra, panties and platform slippers, throws on a silky robe to apply makeup, then casts off the same robe to answer the doorbell in her scanties without first knowing for sure who is waiting on the other side. After being stunned by L.O.O.K.E.R, Lisa becomes entwined in her silken patio drapes until they predictably rip free from their hooks, causing her to slip over the guardrail of her high-rise balcony. Sometime later, Roberts has to explain to Cindy they are passing through Digital Matrix’s test laboratory even though the words ‘Test Laboratory’ are clearly marked on the outside of the door. Okay, so she’s a model, not a scholar. But surely, she can read. It is rather pointless to go on analyzing such goofs. Suffice it to say, there are many.

Looker on Blu-ray looks predictably solid from WAC. There is nothing to complain about here, the Blu-ray up to snuff. Colors are vibrant. Flesh tones are accurate. We get a rather heavy smattering of film grain, looking indigenous to its source and excellent contrast, with exquisite fine details and texturing to boot. Looker was photographed by Paul Lohmann who lends virtually every frame its high-tech austerity.  Although Looker was scanned in at 2K and given Warner’s deluxe clean-up, a video master was used for the deleted sequence included herein as an extra. Any shortcomings in Looker’s overall visual quality are inherent in the source rather than the mastering efforts put forth herein. Employing a 35mm magnetic Dolby stereo print master, WAC has encoded Looker with a 2.0 DTS soundtrack that is all-encompassing for its vintage, with center-channel anchored dialogue and a few well-chosen audio SFX given their due. Barry De Vorzon’s score is given full breadth including the title song, written by De Vorzon and Mike Towers and performed by Sue Saad and the Next. Bottom line: Looker is a slight, and thoroughly average thriller with some good points buried under its mostly conventional execution. If you are a fan of Michael Crichton you will want to add this one to your collection. Otherwise, pass.

FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)

2.5

VIDEO/AUDIO

4.5

EXTRAS

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