With Femme Fatale, Brian De Palma harkens back to the stylized thrillers he made early in his career, such as Dressed To Kill and Body Double. This one is a little less Hitchcockian than those, though the influence is still clear. It's also just as trashy. Sophisticated taste is not De Palma's forte, though he sure knows how to make sleaze look sophisticated. The film opens with a jewel theft and then winds through a surreal series of cons and seductions until it arrives at an unexpected conclusion that proves even worn out cliches can work in the right trappings. Though fun, the pace lacks a sense of urgency, and the film never gets inside the characters' heads.