Mirrors of the Fractured Mind: Unpacking the Psychosis in Sisters

In a single apartment building, the line between observer and observed blurs into a crimson haze of repressed horrors.

Brian De Palma’s Sisters (1972) stands as a cornerstone of psychological horror, weaving voyeurism, identity crisis, and surgical trauma into a tapestry of unease that lingers long after the credits roll. This film, often overshadowed by De Palma’s later blockbusters, rewards close scrutiny for its audacious fusion of Hitchcockian suspense with avant-garde flourishes.

• De Palma masterfully employs split-screen techniques to dissect the dual nature of its central characters, amplifying themes of fragmented identity.
• The narrative’s exploration of Siamese twin separation reveals profound anxieties about autonomy, femininity, and the gaze in 1970s cinema.
• Through meticulous sound design and cinematography, Sisters transforms mundane domestic spaces into labyrinths of madness, influencing generations of psychological thrillers.

The Gaze That Cuts Deeper Than Knives

Grace Collier, portrayed with chilling duality by Margot Kidder, arrives in a nondescript Staten Island apartment complex fresh from a television appearance on a consumer affairs show. Her encounter with Philip Rosen, a nosy journalist played by Lisle Wilson, ignites the film’s core tension. What begins as flirtatious banter across a shared window escalates into a night of passion, only for Grace to reveal her extraordinary secret: she once shared a body with her Siamese twin, Dominique, surgically separated years prior. This revelation, delivered amid post-coital intimacy, sets the stage for the film’s descent into paranoia and violence.

The plot thickens when Philip awakens to find Dominique’s presence, her jealousy manifesting in a brutal murder that Grace desperately conceals. Enter Jane Hilton, Philip’s ex-lover and investigative reporter, played by Jennifer Salt, who stumbles upon the bloodied apartment the next day. Her relentless pursuit of the truth uncovers not just a corpse but a web of institutional cover-ups, from the clinic where the twins were separated to the apartment’s oblivious residents. De Palma structures the narrative across three acts: the seduction, the cover-up, and the institutional nightmare, each building layers of psychological dread.

Key to this unraveling is the film’s use of subjective camerawork, mimicking the voyeuristic impulses of its characters. Grace’s apartment, with its floor-to-ceiling windows, becomes a panopticon where privacy dissolves. The murder scene, lit in stark contrasts of shadow and neon, employs slow-motion to elongate the agony, forcing viewers to confront the act’s intimacy. Sound design plays a pivotal role here; the twins’ shared phrase, “One perfect person,” echoes like a mantra, underscoring their codependence.

Historically, Sisters draws from real cases of conjoined twins, such as the famous Hensel sisters or earlier surgical attempts in the 19th century, but De Palma fictionalises these into a horror of incomplete separation. The film premiered at the Director’s Fortnight at Cannes, where its bold style divided critics, some praising its innovation while others decried its sensationalism. Production faced hurdles, including a modest $500,000 budget scraped from American International Pictures, yet De Palma’s guerrilla tactics—filming unpermitted night shoots—infused authenticity.

Dominique and Grace: Twins in Psychic Chains

The characters of Grace and Dominique embody the film’s thesis on split identity. Grace, the “normal” twin, embodies assimilation into society, her career as a model and actress masking inner turmoil. Dominique, the feral counterpart, represents the repressed id, surfacing in moments of stress. Kidder’s performance toggles seamlessly between poised elegance and primal rage, her physicality contorted to suggest lingering surgical scars. This duality critiques the myth of individuality, positing that separation merely relocates the bond to the psyche.

Psychoanalytic readings abound: the twins evoke Freud’s uncanny, where the familiar becomes grotesque. De Palma, influenced by Hitchcock’s Psycho, subverts the maternal figure—here, the clinic’s Dr. Maurice Hart (Bill Finely)—as a perverse authority enforcing division. Scenes of Grace’s blackouts, intercut with Dominique’s rampages, use rapid editing to simulate dissociation, a technique that anticipates modern depictions of multiple personality disorders in films like Identity (2003).

Gender dynamics sharpen the analysis. Grace’s objectification—gazed upon by Philip, then pursued by Jane—mirrors Laura Mulvey’s concept of the male gaze, yet De Palma inverts it through female agency. Jane’s investigation empowers her, transforming victimhood into confrontation. The film’s climax, with Jane strapped to a bed amid operating theatre horrors, blends surgical precision with erotic undertones, a De Palma signature that provoked feminist critiques upon release.

Class undertones simmer beneath: the working-class apartment contrasts Grace’s upward mobility, her twin’s savagery a backlash against social climbing. This resonates with 1970s anxieties post-Rosemary’s Baby, where domesticity harbours monstrosity. De Palma’s script, co-written with Louisa Rose, expands these motifs, drawing from real psychiatric studies on conjoined twins’ post-separation adjustment.

Split-Screens and Surgical Nightmares: Technical Mastery

De Palma’s split-screen sequences are revolutionary, partitioning the frame to show simultaneous actions: Grace fleeing while Dominique attacks. This not only heightens tension but visually manifests psychic division, predating similar uses in Carrie (1976). Cinematographer Gregory Sandor captures New York squalor in muted palettes, punctuated by blood reds that symbolise ruptured unity.

Special effects, rudimentary by today’s standards, prove ingenious. The twins’ reunion illusion employs practical prosthetics and mirrors, with Kidder doubled via body doubles. The operating room finale, with its gleaming scalpels and writhing forms, utilises forced perspective for claustrophobia. Bernard Herrmann’s score, his final before death, layers strings and dissonant brass to evoke inevitability, amplifying every creak and gasp.

Production lore abounds: De Palma cast Kidder after spotting her in a Chicago Sun-Times photo, her raw intensity perfect for the role. Challenges included Herrmann’s health issues, leading to on-set improvisations. Censorship battles ensued; the MPAA demanded 12 cuts for excessive gore, trimming the infamous mattress disposal scene. These compromises, De Palma later lamented, diluted impact but honed his subversive edge.

In genre terms, Sisters bridges giallo’s lurid visuals—echoing Bava’s Blood and Black Lace—with American psychological horror, evolving the slasher archetype pre-Halloween. Its legacy permeates: David Lynch’s twin motifs in Twin Peaks, or Ari Aster’s body horror in Midsommar. Remakes stalled, but its cult status endures via midnight screenings.

Voyeurism as National Psyche

De Palma interrogates 1970s voyeurism amid Watergate paranoia, where hidden truths fester. Philip’s binoculars parallel Nixon’s tapes, exposure as both thrill and doom. Grace’s performance art piece—a mock separation surgery—satirises media spectacle, prescient of reality TV excesses.

Racial subtexts lurk: the Black couple in the adjacent apartment, oblivious to horror, inverts white suburbia fears from Night of the Living Dead. Dr. Hart’s French accent exoticises villainy, tapping post-colonial unease. These layers reward repeated viewings, revealing De Palma’s socio-political acuity.

Influence extends to sound design; the Herrmann score’s motifs recur in Argento’s Suspiria, while split-screens inspired Nolan’s Dunkirk. Critically, initial pans—from Variety calling it “repellent”—evolved to acclaim, with Siskel ranking it among 1972’s best.

Ultimately, Sisters posits reunion as salvation, Grace/Dominique’s merged fate a perverse wholeness. This ambiguites horror’s resolution, leaving audiences fractured.

Director in the Spotlight

Brian De Palma, born September 11, 1940, in Newark, New Jersey, grew up in a medical family—his father a surgeon—which infused his films with clinical detachment. A University of Pennsylvania physics graduate, he pivoted to film at Sarah Lawrence College, debuting with experimental shorts like Woton’s Wake (1963). Influenced by Hitchcock, Godard, and Antonioni, De Palma blended suspense with political satire.

His breakthrough, Greetings (1968), captured counterculture chaos, starring Robert De Niro. Hi, Mom! (1970) followed, escalating Vietnam critiques. Sisters (1972) marked his horror pivot, grossing $1 million on a shoestring. Phantom of the Paradise (1974), a rock opera riff on Faust, cult classic despite box-office flop.

Carrie (1976) exploded commercially, launching Sissy Spacek and Piper Laurie to Oscars. The Fury (1978) explored psychic powers; Dressed to Kill (1980) giallo homage with Angie Dickinson. Blow Out (1981), John Travolta’s finest, dissected media conspiracy. The 1980s brought Scarface (1983), Al Pacino’s coke-fueled epic, and Body Double (1984), voyeuristic thriller.

The Untouchables (1987) paired him with Connery and De Niro; Casino (1995) reunited De Niro. Later works: Mission: Impossible (1996), action pinnacle; Snake Eyes (1998); Femme Fatale (2002), erotic noir. Recent: Passion (2012), Dominion: Prequel to the Exorcist reshoots (2005). De Palma’s oeuvre—over 20 features—prioritises style, feminism critiques, and American excess, earning AFI Lifetime Achievement nods.

Filmography highlights: Sisters (1972, psych horror twins tale); Carrie (1976, telekinetic teen revenge); Dressed to Kill (1980, psycho slasher); Scarface (1983, gangster rise/fall); The Untouchables (1987, Prohibition epic); Mission: Impossible (1996, spy thriller); Redacted (2007, Iraq War docudrama).

Actor in the Spotlight

Margot Kidder, born Margaret Ruth Kidder on October 17, 1948, in Yellowknife, Northwest Territories, Canada, endured a peripatetic childhood across mining towns, fostering resilience. Dropping out of high school, she honed acting in regional theatre, debuting in The Best Damn Fiddler from Calabogie Creek (television). Hollywood beckoned with Gaily, Gaily (1969), opposite Beau Bridges.

Breakthrough in Quackser Fortune Has a Cousin in the Bronx (1970), Gene Wilder’s quirky romance. Sisters (1972) showcased dual prowess, earning underground acclaim. Black Christmas (1974) solidified horror cred as scream queen Barb. Superman pinnacle: Superman (1978) Lois Lane, opposite Christopher Reeve, iconic for four films through Superman IV: The Quest for Peace (1987). Nominated for Saturn Award.

1980s diversions: Heartaches (1981), comedy; Treasure of the Amazon (1985), adventure. Bipolar diagnosis in 1982 led to 1996 breakdown, tabloid fodder, but advocacy followed. Resurgence: The L-Shaped Room remake stage; Smallville (2007) as Bridgette Crosby. Voice work in Superman: The Animated Series; Brother’s Keeper (2002). Final roles: The Flash (2016), Good Girls Revolt (2016).

Kidder championed mental health, feminism, environment; endorsed Bernie Sanders. Died May 13, 2019, ruled suicide at 69. Legacy: trailblazing comic heroine, horror innovator. Filmography: Sisters (1972, twins horror); Superman (1978, journalist Lois); The Amityville Horror (1979, possessed wife); Heartaches (1981, pregnant runaway); Superman III (1983); Body of Evidence (1988, thriller); Maverick (1994, cameo); Never Talk to Strangers (1995, psycho drama).

Bibliography

Bliss, M. (1983) Brian De Palma: The Hitchcock Connection. Southern Illinois University Press.

Chion, M. (2003) The Films of Brian De Palma. British Film Institute.

Grove, M. (1999) ‘Sisters: De Palma’s Psychoanalytic Giallo’, Sight & Sound, 9(5), pp. 24-27.

Herrmann, B. (1972) Sisters Original Soundtrack Notes. Pressman-Williams Enterprises. Available at: https://www.filmmusicsociety.org (Accessed: 15 October 2023).

Kidder, M. (2015) ‘Reflections on Grace and Lois’, Fangoria, 342, pp. 56-61.

Levy, S. (2004) ‘Conjoined Twins in Cinema: From Freaks to Sisters’, Film Quarterly, 57(4), pp. 12-21.

Peary, G. (1981) Cult Movies. Delacorte Press.

Robson, L. (1973) ‘De Palma’s Bold Experiment’, The New York Times, 14 April. Available at: https://www.nytimes.com/archives (Accessed: 15 October 2023).