Raising Cain

Anyone approaching Raising Cain should first ask themselves this question: Just how much do I like John Lithgow? If your answer, like mine is in the region of "quite a lot" then this is a film I would definitely recommend. If however you're somehow not a fan of his typically zealous performances then I would avoid this ham fisted Brian de Palma thriller like it were the plague itself.

Hindered by a supporting cast straight off the set of some god awful afternoon soap and a screechy violin to illustrate moments it feels are especially dramatic, it's a poorly constructed movie that while pleasingly complex spends far too much time floundering about with the pantomime that surrounds his wife. Her subplot seems to serve no real purpose beyond providing a couple of the aforementioned screechy bits and filling time that would have been better served with more of the only reason anyone would be watching this enormously silly film.

Playing the multiple personalities inhabiting one Carter Nix (don't worry, unlike every other film that uses it, this is not a twist) allows Lithgow to seriously push out the boat. Each is unique, bizarre and pure ham, but the kind of quality meat that only he can really deliver. He gets to do sad and angry and childish and suave, very few actors could have made this worth watching and very few films have allowed him to do quite so much.

More of a curiosity than a film in it's own right, it is at times jaw droppingly poor and at others unforgivably melodramatic, every second he is not on screen is some level of cringe worthy, but it does provide scenery that deserves to be chewed by one of the great masters of the visual performance. Lithgow is one of those people who should just be on screen more often and despite little else in it's favour it does achieve that simple goal.