Poster for Don’t Look Now

Don’t Look Now

Nicolas Roeg • 1973 • UK • 110 min

Monday May 25 @ 6:00pm
Monday May 25 @ 8:30pm

Thoughts from the committee


A masterpiece of psychological horror in the vein of Rosemary’s Baby, Don’t Look Now is Nicolas Roeg’s examination of the profound effects grief has on a relationship. It was initially released, double-billed with The Wicker Man, a film which shares many of its themes and stylistic flourishes with Roeg’s. Roeg’s vision of an occult-tinged and permanently damp Venice imbues every event with a dread constantly on the verge of erupting into terror.

Following the tragic drowning of their young daughter, John (Donald Sutherland) and Laura (Julie Christie) travel to Venice, where John is restoring a chapel. An encounter at dinner with two clairvoyant sisters leads John to believe that the spirit of his daughter is trying to urgently communicate a message to him. As his obsession deepens, his relationship with Laura is strained, and perils seem to beset the couple at every turn.

Few films capture the rawness of grief, and the attendant anxieties, as vividly as Don’t Look Now. More than fifty years after its original release, the film retains its moments of shock well, and it is easy for the audience to lose themselves in the labyrinth the same way that John does. Thanks to the skillful writing and editing, past and present bleed together, and all are tinged with menace – an experience that, unexpectedly, remains even on repeat viewings.

It’s a ghost story; it’s a meditation on time, memory and the poignancy of married love. And it’s a masterpiece.” – Peter Bradshaw, The Guardian

Featured member reviews


Like so many of the great horror films, Don't Look Now is grounded by harrowingly plausible events, and performances which make you feel them in your guts. Beautiful, raw, and unnerving.

The misty, labryinthine Venice has never looked so creepy. It's the perfect backdrop for a character caught between trauma and the subliminal, barreling toward a fate that could have been avoided had he listened to his wife. The editing really takes it home and gave me chills despite this being the 2nd watch - brava, absolutely brava

Remarkable how unsettling this remains even when the final scene is already lodged in film history. Roeg’s sense of rhythm and disorientation is unmatched.

A portrait of grief and the effect it has on a relationship with an overarching glaze of psychic horror.

On the Sad/Horny/Occult venn diagram, this sits smack bang in the centre. Innovative? Sure. Enjoyable? No.