by Frank Calvillo|
I Saw What You Did opens with a horribly cheesy, teen popcorn feel in which two friends (Andi Garrett and Sara Lane) make plans over the telephone to hang out at the former’s house. It’s an opening which makes the audience feel as if they’re about to watch a Disney film quite frankly; a feeling which continues well into the first act and includes a shot of a dog sneezing when one of the characters insists she’s grown-up enough to assume more responsibility. If it were anyone other than William Castle at the helm, such an opening would have been enough to make me turn the film off. However, the dime store Hitchcock knows what he’s doing, and offers up a film which could almost be an estranged second cousin to the film noir classic Sorry, Wrong Number.
Garrett and Lane play Libby and Kit, respectively. The two girls are high school friends who are spending the evening at Libby’s house babysitting her younger sister Tess (Sharyl Locke) while their parents are away. In an effort to amuse themselves, the two girls begin picking random names out of the phone book, dialing their numbers and proclaiming, “I saw what you did…and I know who you are,” before hanging up giggling. When the two dial the home of Steve Marak (John Ireland), however, they get more than they bargained for as he has just murdered his wife and is trying to keep the act a secret from everyone, most of all his intensely caring neighbor Amy Nelson (Joan Crawford).
I Saw What You Did definitely exists in a different Castle world than the likes of Thirteen Ghosts and House on Haunted Hill, showing that the director could indeed direct a straight thriller without relying on silly gimmicks. Castle’s segue into the film’s sub-plot is so wonderfully done and provides the kind of genuine thrills for which the director was famous. There’s a definite devious feel to the pranks that the girls choose to play on their victims, which shows what happens when a person dallies in the darkness and doesn’t know when to put an end to mischievous antics. While the director is less than generous with his suspense here, there is a fair amount of genuine creepiness in the last 20 minutes thanks to a “where’s the boogeyman”-like setup which works.
There’s no denying that the film’s secondary story seems to belong in a different film altogether due to its mix of melodrama and thrills. This doesn’t make I Saw What You Did feel all that scattered, but instead works to help serve the teen suspense nature of the first story. To be honest, though, I don’t think anyone would have minded much seeing the sub-plot expanded since it looks as if it would have proven a worthy film on its own. I personally would love to have seen this tale of a man trying to keep his wife’s murder a secret from the world and especially from the woman who loves him to the point of obsession. While I Saw What You Did is as disposable as they come, it’s interesting watching Crawford play a character with such sadness, which she eventually uses as a weapon.
Aside from Crawford, who naturally gave her all to whatever part she was playing, I Saw What You Did is chock full of serviceable performances from a handful of character actors, most of which were never heard from again. The lone exception is Ireland, who actually manages a highly credible turn as the film’s antagonist.
The music doesn’t work at all for I Saw What You Did, nor does the overly dependent use of fog in the final act or the head-shaking question in the audience’s minds which continuously asks: These girls couldn’t find anything else to do? All of this aside, though, I Saw What You Did is somewhat clever in the way it captured a time of true anonymity which was beginning to fade. Castle’s look at the power of the telephone as a strong force of life and death is certainly an eerie early indicator of how dependent society would eventually become on such a device. As one of the girl’s phone victims states as he hangs up after falling for their prank, “Nothing’s sacred.” Too true.
I Saw What You Did is now available on Blu-Ray from Scream Factory.
