The 15 Best Set Pieces In Brian De Palma Films

Brian De Palma is the undisputed king of the cinematic set piece. He's a technical genius when it comes to filmmaking, and while he's not maintained the consistency of some of his contemporaries, he has proven to be an important influence on later directors including Quentin Tarantino, Terrence Malick, and Noah Baumbach among others. He also has an innate sense of cinematic storytelling, using his technical ability to communicate meaning through the use of creative camerawork and editing.

Where De Palma truly excels is in self-contained cinematic moments. In some cases, these set pieces redeem the film in which they appear, while others are elevated to masterpiece status. There's a kinetic, dynamic feeling to these sequences, where the editing, music, and performances all work together in perfect cohesion. The choices for the best set pieces in this list are not definitive, but rather a handful that stand as quintessential De Palma.

Not a particularly dramatic or audacious sequence, but one that feels uniquely suited to De Palma's distinct talents. After a tongue-in-cheek opening that pokes fun at the director's own style, sound technician Jack (John Travolta) is ordered to record some new sound effects. De Palma takes you through the various noises Jack records with his rifle mic, utilizing painstaking attention to detail. 

He initially hears a candid conversation between an unsuspecting couple, then picks up sounds from an owl and a frog, and De Palma uses vividly stylized split-diopter shots to illustrate these. It's disarmingly charming, reminiscent of the fairytale aesthetic of "The Night Of The Hunter," until Jack hears a noise he doesn't recognize, a whirring clicking noise that is later revealed to be the wristwatch garotte of the sinister hitman. It clearly unnerves Jack and, as if to amplify this, De Palma stubbornly refuses to cut to the source of the noise, instead showing us a disquieting shot of some bushes. Suddenly, in a chilling moment, the noise stops. The tension is broken by the subsequent car crash that provides the groundwork for the film, but this beautifully edited scene — the calm before the storm — is what sticks in the memory.

Proof that not all of De Palma's set pieces end with a shoot-out or a murder (that comes later), this scene is the perfect demonstration of his command of visual storytelling as he gets into the headspace of the sex-starved Kate Miller (Angie Dickinson). A uniquely cinematic sequence with virtually no dialogue, this is effectively a seduction, with Dickinson and a handsome stranger alternating between predator and prey as they observe each other walking around a labyrinthine art gallery. It's masterfully constructed, with De Palma clearly laying out the geography of the gallery, and Pino Donaggio's emphatic score lending the scene an ethereal, overly melodramatic feel that fits perfectly with Dickinson's frustrated, daydreaming character. 

This all feels like a prelude to a murder, and in a way, it is: If you look closely, the film's killer appears in the middle of a long tracking shot, and at the very end of the sequence we see them pick up Dickinson's discarded glove. It's a disquieting end to an enthralling set piece, and feels like the closest thing to an American Giallo, specifically in the way the mundane setting is given an almost imperceptible yet potent sense of dread, where the anticipation of murder is just as important as the kill itself.

"Scarface" is a film that is full of decadence and excess, from the colorful costumes to the melodramatic plot and larger-than-life performance from Al Pacino as Tony Montana, so it's interesting that the most notorious moment is actually an exercise in restraint from the director. In an attempt to make Tony talk, the Colombian gangsters take a chainsaw to the arm of the hapless Angel (Pepe Serna). 

While it's admittedly horrific, what's notable is how little we see onscreen. Brian De Palma keeps his camera on Angel until the moment the chainsaw cuts into him. We see a brief bit of blood on Angel's face then it immediately cuts to Tony's disgusted reaction. De Palma manages to get away with a lot by essentially alluding to what's just happened, the only real confirmation of which comes when the lead gangster malevolently says "now the leg." There's a lot of blood, but De Palma never lingers on the violence, instead choosing to show Tony's steely resolve. He's not a nice guy by any means, but this scene establishes him as a character of iron will and determination, and it's difficult not to cheer him on when he takes his revenge.

Brian De Palma's rock opera medley of "Phantom Of The Opera," "Faust," and "The Picture Of Dorian Grey" is set to an insanely catchy soundtrack by Paul Williams, who has a lot of fun reworking his own songs into different styles of music, from slick crooners to proto-heavy metal. In this scene, he reworks the film's main "Faust" theme into a frivolous Beach Boys-style song, "Upholstery."

No longer content with emulating Hitchcock (although he does later do a brief homage to "Psycho"), De Palma takes a leaf out of Orson Welles' book by reconstructing the iconic opening of "Touch Of Evil," where the camera follows a ticking bomb in the boot of a car in one long uninterrupted take. Here, The Phantom plants a bomb in a prop car used during rehearsals, as the characters sing the upbeat song with the ticking continuing on the soundtrack. De Palma goes one step further, though, doing all this and adding a split-screen. The result is a virtuoso sequence, as characters chatter and bicker over the song, walking from one shot into the other, all building to the inevitable explosion, as Swan (Williams) catches the briefest glimpse of the Phantom on an opposite balcony. It's an exceptionally choreographed sequence, and De Palma never once loses track of his characters.

The big finale to "The Fury" (an eclectic hodge-podge of supernatural horror and espionage thriller), is one of the most morbidly satisfying moments of his oeuvre. Throughout the film, Ben Childress (John Cassavetes) has been unapologetically evil, setting up his friend, abducting his gifted son, and ultimately contributing to their deaths. Having taken the similarly gifted Amy Irving into his "care" he comforts her, unaware that she knows of his true nature. What follows is one of the most spectacular death scenes in cinema history, as Irving uses her telekinetic powers to first blind Childress, then blow him up from the inside out. It's horrific, gory, and a technical marvel. 

De Palma is showing off here, shooting the explosion from multiple angles (shown 16 times in total) making you feel the full force of it. It's a clear antecedent of the iconic head explosion in David Cronenberg's "Scanners," but unlike that film, this doesn't feel like a horror scene. It's more reminiscent of the Death Star blowing up, as it's actually cathartic to see this abhorrent character's downfall in the most spectacular way imaginable. De Palma clearly agrees as John Williams' score is positively celebratory, as Childress' body parts litter the room in slow motion. A macabre ending to a very strange film.

The fateful prom night, where telekinetic social outcast Carrie White (Sissy Spacek) carries out her nastiest revenge, is one of the most iconic scenes in cinema. You're probably aware of it even if you haven't seen the film. It feels like the culmination of all De Palma's work up to this point through its meticulous construction, with every shot deliberately placed exactly where it needs to be. From the moment the bucket of pig's blood empties onto Carrie, De Palma is firing on all cylinders. The sound immediately drops out, as we see her classmates' stunned reactions until her mother's ominous warning begins to ring in her ears: "They're all gonna laugh at you." 

In a neat touch, De Palma shows her mother's prediction coming true, even though it's clear that it's only the bullies laughing at her. When it cuts to her point of view, Carrie sees everyone at the prom pointing and laughing. It's a masterstroke that demonstrates Carrie's increasingly fractured mind and explains the indiscriminate revenge she takes on the entire school. Even 50 years later, it still remains one of his most striking set pieces. De Palma uses sound, mise-en-scène, and editing to put you completely in Carrie's mindset, perfecting the split-screen technique he utilized in earlier films to dazzling effect. The sequence is chaotic but nonetheless perfectly coherent.

Certainly the longest sequence on our list, the climactic chase scene in "Carlito's Way" shows De Palma at his absolute best, as Carlito (Al Pacino) desperately tries to make the train that will take him to his new life, while also trying to elude the four vengeful gangsters on his tail. It's an incredibly high-energy foot chase, with De Palma continually weaving the camera around his actors as they move through the various settings, from Carlito's nightclub to a subway train, to the concourse at Grand Central. Every movement is carefully choreographed, right down to the tiniest detail.

The Steadicam is incredibly fluid as Carlito stops and starts his way down to the concourse, all the while avoiding the pursuing gangsters. When he finally makes his agonizing trip down the escalator, right under the eye of his pursuers, it's as if time stands still. We hear the bombastic score, see the final gangster spot Carlito, and register the look of resignation on Pacino's face. This should take a fraction of a second, but each moment is carefully timed for maximum effect. When the inevitable shootout happens, it feels like a giant exhale, as if we have been collectively holding our breath throughout the entire chase, and we're now back on more comfortable ground, watching Carlito dispatch his enemies with relative ease, all of which makes the film's final rug pull even more tragic.