Four childhood friends, now having troubled lives, meet in a camping trip. Their lives are changed forever, when they come across a guy who has the power to take to a whole new world.

Alex Gardner (Dennis Quaid) is a talented young psychic who is frittering his gifts away betting on the ponies. That is, until he's coerced by his old pal and mentor Dr Paul Novotny (Max von Sydow) into taking part in a dream research project in which his psychic abilities make him indispensable. The project concerns "dreamlinking", whereby talented individuals like Alex hook up via electrodes and project themselves into some troubled subject's nightmares, in which they not only observe but participate in the dream, hopefully effecting some remedy. Alex is by nature a feckless guy, a charismatic scoundrel sporting a Cheshire cat's grin. But he warms easily to his new role as dream-dwelling psychotherapist, having a core of decency. Not so his nemesis, Tommy Ray Glatman (David Patrick Kelly), a dreamlink prodigy and pawn of Bob Blair (Christopher Plummer), who runs the research project for the government (he's described as the "head of covert intelligence"). Blair is worried about the President (Eddie Albert), whose nightmares of nuclear holocaust cause him to escalate disarmament talks with the Russians, much to Blair's dismay, being your basic evil, slick, smarmy covert kind of guy. Turns out Blair's real aim is to use the project to train dreamlink assassins, his star pupil being psycho Tommy Ray and his test case the President. Only Alex is there to stop them.

Dreamscape is all business, with a well-structured screenplay that lays the groundwork for the film's many admirable performances. Kate Capshaw in particular is very dreamy as a research scientist and Dennis Quaid's love interest. And David Patrick Kelly is likely to become your worst nightmare, especially when he's the Snakeman, giving an often fantastical performance. But what you are most likely to remember from this wonderful thriller is the many vivid dream sequences, aptly surreal images from the troubled psyche. --Jim Gay

To condemn Dressed to Kill as a Hitchcock rip-off is to miss the sheer enjoyment of Brian De Palma's delirious thriller. Homages to Hitchcock run rampant through most of De Palma's earlier films, and this one's chock-full of visual quotes, mostly cribbed from Vertigo and Psycho. But De Palma's indulgent depravity transcends simple mimicry to assume a vitality all its own. It's smothered in thickly atmospheric obsessions with sex, dread, paranoia, and voyeurism, not to mention a heavy dose of Psycho-like psychobabble about a wannabe transsexual who is compelled to slash up any attractive female who reminds him--the horror--that he's still very much a man.

Angie Dickinson plays the sexually unsatisfied, forty-something wife who's the killer's first target, relaying her sexual fantasies to her psychiatrist (Michael Caine) before actually living one of them out after the film's celebrated cat-and-mouse sequence in a Manhattan art museum. The focus then switches to a murder witness (De Palma's then-girlfriend Nancy Allen) and Dickinson's grieving whiz-kid son (Keith Gordon), who attempt to solve the murder while staying one step ahead (or so they think) of the crude detective (Dennis Franz) assigned to the case. Propelled by Pino Donaggio's lush and stimulating score, De Palma's visuals provide seductive counterpoint to his brashly candid dialogue, and the plot conceals its own implausibility with morbid thrills and intoxicating suspense. If you're not laughing at De Palma's shameless audacity, you're sure to be on the edge of your seat. --Jeff Shannon, Amazon.com