THE EYES OF LAURA MARS 1978
The Eyes of Laura Mars (1978) is a film that pulses with the energy and anxieties of late-70s New York—a glossy, dangerous world where art, fashion, and violence collide. Directed by Irvin Kershner, with a screenplay by John Carpenter (before his Halloween breakthrough), the film is a stylish blend of supernatural thriller, giallo-inspired murder mystery, and psycho-sexual melodrama.
Faye Dunaway, fresh off her Oscar win for Network 1976, stars as Laura Mars, a celebrated fashion photographer whose provocative, S&M-tinged images—shot for the film by real-life icons Helmut Newton and Rebecca Blake—have made her both famous and infamous.
The story thrusts Laura into a waking nightmare: she begins to witness brutal murders through the eyes of the killer, her visions synchronizing with each new death in her orbit. The city itself is a character—Victor J. Kemper’s cinematography captures New York’s grit and glamour, from the high-gloss world of fashion shoots to the shadowy, rain-slicked streets.
The film’s set and production design, overseen by Gene Callahan, creates a world that’s both sharply modern and eerily dreamlike, with art direction that blurs the line between Laura’s controversial photographs and the violence stalking her life. The models’ costumes, with their bold, fetishistic flair, reflect the era’s fascination with pushing boundaries—both sexual and artistic.
Dunaway leads an eclectic cast, including Tommy Lee Jones as Detective John Neville, whose stern skepticism gives way to a complicated romance with Laura; Brad Dourif as her twitchy, loyal driver Tommy; René Auberjonois as her manager Donald, who brings genuine warmth and depth to a character often played for stereotype; and Raul Julia as Laura’s enigmatic ex-husband, Michael. Each performance adds a layer of ambiguity and tension, with Dourif (his breakout role was as the vulnerable, stuttering Billy Bibbit in Milos Forman’s One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest 1975) and Auberjonois, in particular, imbuing their roles with unexpected sympathy and complexity.
Key moments in the film are as much about spectacle as suspense: a show-stopping Columbus Circle shoot with lingerie-clad models framed by burning cars, voyeuristic murder sequences shot in a killer’s-eye POV, and a tense, rain-drenched pursuit through the streets of Manhattan. The film’s most memorable scenes are often the most visually audacious, echoing the Italian giallo tradition with their lurid, stylized violence and erotic charge. The film’s murders are notably brutal, and the killer’s signature is stabbing his victims in the eyes with an ice pick. This gruesome detail is established early on: Laura’s photo editor is found murdered with her eyes gouged, and subsequent victims are killed in a similar fashion.
Barbra Streisand, who was originally considered for the lead, declined the role due to the film’s “kinky nature,” but she left her mark by recording the torch song “Prisoner” (Love Theme from Eyes of Laura Mars),” which became a Billboard hit and lingers as the film’s sultry, melancholic anthem. Composer Artie Kane’s score weaves together disco, suspense, and romance, amplifying the film’s mood of glamour tinged with dread.
The Eyes of Laura Mars is steeped in the psycho-sexual themes that defined 70s horror and thrillers: voyeurism, the blurred line between art and violence, and the dangers of seeing too much. The film’s fashion-world setting is not just a backdrop but a lens through which to explore the era’s anxieties about sexuality, power, and the objectification and exploitation of female bodies.
Critics at the time were divided—Janet Maslin of The New York Times praised its “superlative casting” and “eerie, lavish dreamland” vision of New York, even as she found the ending “dumb.”
Roger Ebert, less impressed, dismissed it as a clichéd “woman in trouble” story, while others have since recognized it as an “upmarket slasher” and a cult classic with fingerprints all over later genre films.
Kershner’s direction, Carpenter’s script, and the film’s bold visual style make The Eyes of Laura Mars a fascinating artifact of its moment—a film that’s as much about the act of looking as it is about what’s seen, and one that turns the glossy veneer of late-70s fashion into a mirror for the era’s darkest fears. I think it captures that vibe well and grabs you by the throat while it makes that point. It’s a film where beauty and brutality are inseparable, and where every glamorous image hides the possibility of violence just out of frame.