Sometimes, even the immediacy of a mesmeric score setting the mood for what is to come tells the viewer that they are likely in for something really special. Case in point, Bernard Herrmann’s intense opening composition for 1962's Cape Fear, directed by J. Lee Thompson (Happy Birthday to Me). Produced by and starring Gregory Peck (To Kill a Mockingbird; On the Beach), he plays small town attorney Sam Bowden – a well respected family man within the quaint community in Georgia. Soon to be met with a harbinger of much danger, Max Cady (Robert Mitchum – Out of the Past; Where Danger Lives) – who was put behind bars by the soft spoken lawyer eight years ago after he testified at his trial, has made it quite clear that Sam’s wife Peggy (Polly Bergen) and daughter Nancy (Lori Martin) are in just as much danger, if not more.

When hearing the name Clouseau, most people automatically think of the bumbling French detective made famous by comedy genius Peter Sellers in the Pink Panther movies, or the uninspired remakes with Steve Martin. Yet I am not referring to that character, instead I am talking about serious film director Henri-Georges Clouzot who directed the horror mystery/thriller Les Diaboliques in 1955.

For the month of October, I will be highlighting films that fall within the horror and thriller genres. With this article, I will also be starting an extended series of reviews that will look at director Brian De Palma’s lesser known works that are a part of the mystery or thriller categories. Though best known for iconic movies like Scarface, The Untouchables, Mission Impossible and Carlito’s Way, for more than forty years De Palma has created lesser-known classic thrillers inspired by master director Alfred Hitchcock, as well as classic genres such as film noir, and then adds his own masterful spin and touches to these unique areas of cinema. Within this sub-section of De Palma’s work, his most famous film is probably the 1980 mystery thriller Dressed to Kill. It is this movie, that to his detractors, proved he was nothing but a Hitchcock rip-off artist, yet his fans were once again delighted by the man’s genius as a visually talented director that was on a higher plateau than anyone else at the time. You can probably guess that I fall within the second grouping of people.

It is pretty rare that I do this, but I sat watching a newly released DVD called Stoker last night and decided to write a review immediately after finishing it, and for once, one of the films I have critiqued will be readily available to buy or rent.