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Rene Auberjonois and Susannah York in Images.
Rene Auberjonois and Susannah York in Images. Photograph: Lions Gate/Hemdale/Kobal/Rex/Shutterstock
Rene Auberjonois and Susannah York in Images. Photograph: Lions Gate/Hemdale/Kobal/Rex/Shutterstock

My streaming gem: why you should watch Images

This article is more than 3 years old

The latest in our series of writers highlighting underappreciated films sees a recommendation for Robert Altman’s dreamlike 70s horror

When he completed Images, in 1971, Robert Altman thought to himself: “Everyone is just going to flip over this film. It’s going to be the greatest discovery since hash!” As he later acknowledged, that did not turn out to be the case – to the extent that few people even remember Images today. Partly that’s because this strange, elegant psychological horror doesn’t feel like a Robert Altman film at all. Think of Altman and you think of his orchestrated ensemble pieces – Nashville, Short Cuts, The Player, Gosford Park – or his earlier, New Hollywood genre reinventions: McCabe And Mrs Miller or The Long Goodbye. Between those last two came Images, set in a remote Irish country house, and closer in spirit to Bergman’s Persona or Polanski’s Repulsion.

Images takes us into the fractured psyche of Cathryn, a children’s author played by Susannah York. We find her alone in her apartment, narrating passages from her new book – a fantasy tale of unicorns and magical lands with funny names (York actually wrote and published this book in real life). Late at night, Cathryn receives a phone call from a woman who sounds mysteriously like herself, informing her that her husband, Hugh, is with another woman. When Hugh (Altman regular René Auberjonois) returns he begins kissing Cathryn, but suddenly, he changes into another man, and Cathryn recoils, horrified. Deciding they need a break, they flee their chic city apartment and drive to their country house that night. But once there, things become ever stranger, as Cathryn struggles to separate illusion and reality.

The other man turns out to be Rene, Cathryn’s former lover, who died three years ago. There is a third man, Marcel, a neighbour who also seems to have been Cathryn’s lover at some point. Marcel has a teenage daughter (Cathryn Harrison, granddaughter of Rex), whom Cathryn takes under her wing, recognising something of herself in her – not a good sign under the circumstances. The identities of these three men seem to switch around, so we’re never quite sure which one is which. She’ll be talking to Rene one moment, but in the next shot, it’s actually Hugh. To complicate matters further, Cathryn also sees another version of herself from time to time.

Deepening her plight is the fact that all three men are, to some extent, assholes. Hugh in particular is a classic 70s man: patronising and insensitive, likes photography and shooting game, tells terrible jokes, wears driving gloves even when he’s not driving. Rene seems intent on rekindling their relationship, despite being dead. And lecherous Marcel, who has recently separated from his wife, is constantly trying to grope her. You can hardly blame Cathryn for wanting to kill one or more of them, and let’s just say there will be blood, but which one is which? Does it matter anyway?

True to Altman’s style, there’s an unshowy, improvisatory naturalism to the performances. Despite being a man, Altman clearly identifies with his female lead, and York is magnificent, the cracks in her poised demeanour steadily widening as sexual guilt, male predation and mental illness take hold (she won best actress at Cannes for this performance). Added to which, her outfits are a 70s fashion style guide. But there’s still a creepy, fairytale horror feel to the whole exercise. Vilmos Zsigmond’s roving, impressionistic photography lends the film a dreamlike quality – all tinkling wind chimes and rain-streaked windows and fractured reflections, not to mention some rich exterior scenes in the autumnal Irish countryside. The score, too, is a strange mix of dissonant orchestral swells and percussive stabs. It was composed by John Williams, of all people, with help from Japanese prog musician Stomu Yamashta.

Despite the Cannes award, the film received a mixed critical reception and had a botched release, which explains its relative obscurity. Altman himself judged the film to be a little heavy-handed in retrospect (he went on to rework similar themes in his better known 1977 movie Three Women), but Images stands up far better than most of its contemporaries. Not quite the greatest discovery since hash, but an intoxicating watch all the same.

  • Images is available to stream on Amazon Prime in both the UK and US.

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