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Review

This silly but fascinating noir riff is pure, undiluted De Palma. Romijn-Stamos (who acquits herself well, despite some goofball dialogue) is a thief who screws over her crew after a heist at the Cannes Film Festival goes wrong. She escapes Paris, and begins life anew in the States. When she is forced to come back to France, she is again pursued by her former cronies, thanks to Banderas' paparazzo snapping a picture of her that is made public. Often ridiculous, with ludicrous plot twists, Femme Fatale is also a ragingly cinematic, gorgeously stylish film, with its mesmerizing split screen, witty film tricks (there's a particularly funny subtitle gag at the end), terrific slow-motion set-pieces and a great opening heist (to the tune of Ravel's "Bolero" and with virtually no dialogue). There's an extremely hot striptease, to boot, and the whole thing seems to be De Palma's comment on the myth of femmes fatales in movies, and a hugely enjoyable one at that. Forget the slightly draggy midsection and the film's goofy story and revel in the dazzling visuals and delightful conceits.