DON'T LOOK NOW

“This is the one who’s blind. She’s the one that can see”

Following their daughter’s death, an English couple seek a fresh start in Venice. Soon however, the wintry mist latches onto them with no chance of escape. Full of seaweed and dust, Don’t Look Now is a film of its time. Yet it makes its mark thanks to the care of its artistic direction, its two actors of irresistible beauty and charm, and their perfectly chic clothes.

A work of grief, the film’s costumes reveal it rather as a work of ghosts. Very little black, a little red, a lot of brown - tweed-clad Englishmen, too elegant for this dying city.

For him: beige and brown herringbone suit, camel cashmere v-neck, taupe and navy Prince of Wales, flared trousers, an yellow-orange-red tartan scarf, a midnight-blue three button overcoat in heavy wool, a flat rectangular watch, a sudden death in a cathedral.

For her: thick submariner rollnecks, snow-white wool polos, a black-and-white dogtooth suit, nutmeg boots, belted raincoat, a herringbone polo-coat, a belief in the third eye.

For good measure: a shady priest with a fur collar, Graeme Clifford’s editing, the haircuts.

Though Nicolas Roeg’s talents have known better uses, Don't Look Now deserves a careful watch for its Venetian apex: it is impossible not to love tweed after watching it.