It opens on a black screen, as on the soundtrack we hear a low, guttural humming and the wind howling. The effect creates an instant uneasiness, a feeling of dread that will grow as the film progresses. We then cut to the opening shot of an empty stretch of highway; on the left side of the frame we see an old, ripped chunk of tire, shaped and folded like a piece of roadkill. The camera lingers over this image, as the slightly lethargic, caustic voice of M. Emmet Walsh as the private investigator Visser is heard on the soundtrack. This monologue, which starts with the brilliant line “the world is full of complainers, but the truth is, nothing comes with a guarantee” not only gives us a glimpse into Visser’s personality, but also sets the groundwork for the story we’re about to witness.

As we listen to Visser’s monologue, we are given a short montage of various barren Texan landscapes. This film, which was the debut film of the filmmakers Joel and Ethan Coen, begins with an opening that is similar in its execution to the opening of their 2007 Oscar-winning film No Country for Old Men. But, while that film’s opening featured a world-weary but hopeful Tommy Lee Jones, Visser is brutal and cynical in his world view. Not surprisingly, as we, as an audience, learn the nature of Visser’s character.

In 1984, Joel and Ethan Coen emerged onto the film scene with Blood Simple, which is quite simply one of the great directorial debuts in recent film history. The film, which most people would describe as an example of the neo-noir, has a style and look that feels just as inspired by the horror films of the late 70s and early 80s as it does to the great film noir stories of the 1940s. Indeed, Joel cut his teeth, so to speak, as an assistant film editor on the entirely forgotten 1981 horror movie Fear No Evil (an angel and the devil as teenagers who wage war in a high school setting) and the classic Sam Raimi film The Evil Dead. It is this background in editing horror films that, at least subconsciously, helped inform the way the Coen Brothers pace the suspense in this film.

The Brothers Coen create a genuine feeling of unsettling dread early on in the film. After Visser’s opening monologue, we cut to total darkness, save for a bright light in the center of the screen. As it moves closer, we recognize the shape of a car as it drives past our viewpoint. We then cut to the title card that reads Blood Simple. (most reviews on the film miss that period in the title, maybe because it looks like incorrect grammar on the page). The Coens’ unparalleled use of sound effects in their films started at the very beginning of their career, as the steady thumping of the windshield wipers adds to the hypnotic quality of Carter Burwell’s score.

In the car are a man and a woman, and the dialogue is sparse and economic. Abby (played by Frances McDormand) is leaving her husband, bar owner Marty (played by the great Dan Hedaya), and Ray, one of Marty’s bartenders, is driving her to Houston. Ray, as played by John Getz, is the laconic and increasingly put-upon noir hero. As the rain pours down and the wipers thump, it becomes clear that there is something between the two of them (Ray’s repeated mantra of “I’m not a marriage counselor” being proof of that). The scene then cuts to a motel, as the two lovers embrace. Out in the rain, is that somebody watching?

This is the plot point that instigates a story of murder, betrayal, guns, sex, fishing, double crosses and ceiling fans. Marty is a jealous man, and also well connected, which leads to the introduction of the fourth lead, private investigator Loren Visser, played in a career-best performance by veteran character actor M. Emmet Walsh. Walsh creates one of the great villains of noir with his performance here. Visser is a smiling, cackling, sweaty force of evil. He feigns a jocular, good-‘ol boy personality that hides great intelligence and cruelty. He is the monster of the film, and in the third act, the horror movie vibe of the film will make itself all the more clear.

The camerawork by Barry Sonnenfeld is one key ingredient to the way Blood Simple works like a horror film. Specific film shots, such as the one where Opal, Marty’s German Shepard, stalking down a hallway, create an unsettling, queasy feeling (is this shot an homage to a similar moment in John Carpenter’s The Thing?). Another shot that creates an aura of horror is an Evil Dead style shot as Marty walks Abby outside of Ray’s house, and the camera zooms up close on the pair, reminiscent of the Evil Dead POV shot (a quick nod to Raimi, who was advantageous in helping the Coens get this film made). Not all of Sonnenfeld’s camerawork is horrific, however, as one of the funniest moments in the film occurs when a tracking shot has to go over a drunk’s head on the bar in order to continue the shot.

Sonnenfeld and the Coens also decided to constantly film the lead actors looking hot and sweaty, even when it’s raining. This helps make the characters look as uncomfortable and out of their element as their increasingly desperate actions suggest. Walsh especially is shot to look sweaty and unhealthy, which helps create an inherent sleaziness and untrustworthiness about his character.

Trust seems to be a major theme in this movie, and it’s interesting that Visser, the least trustworthy person in the story, seems to be obsessed with trust. He is constantly brining up trust, and the idea of truth. In fact, Visser bluntly asks “why should I trust you,” right before he does something that would contradict his pleas for trust and honesty.

There are a few sequences that further demonstrate the way the Coens use horror film techniques. In one extended scene where Visser breaks into a character’s house, the Coens film and light the shots in such a way that suggest a movie monster stalking his way through the place. Tracking shot of Visser lurking through the house also recall similar scenes in slasher films such as the original Halloween.

There are a number of recurring images that the Coens use throughout the film: Visser’s lighter (the engraving on the side reveals that he was the Elks Club’s Man of the Year), ceiling fans, and dead fish. The journey of the lighter, especially, is something that the audience member must keep track of. The ceiling fans, large and ominous, are constantly on, even though they don’t seem to ever help the characters beat the heat. The dead fish, which Marty has caught on a recent fishing trip, are more than a sight gag, they suggest the ever-present threat of death that permeates throughout this film.

There are so many small moments in this film that help add up to its haunting brilliance. The way Sonnenfeld lights Hedaya’s face with the blue light of the fly buzzer when he confronts Getz. How Visser’s blue Volkswagen seems to show up at the strangest times and places, like a devilish specter. The way Getz reaches out to touch the photograph of Abby. The use of “It’s the Same Old Song” by The Four Tops, in a tense and dreadful scene. How in this film, the more you try to scrub the blood away, you just can’t seem to clean it all way.

There’s a pivotal, extended sequence that starts with Ray returning to Marty’s bar late at night, and ends with Ray standing in the middle of a field, smoking a cigarette. This sequence, that runs over 13 minutes, contains little dialogue but is fraught with tension and terror. Getz, who does not get enough credit for his performance in this film, is perfect with his mixture of panic and confusion. Hedaya is still remembered for his terrific work in this portion of the film (I am being intentionally vague in case you haven’t seen this film yet).

Not since Hitchcock has there been a filmmaker as adept at mixing gallows humor with suspense as the Coens are (they would prove it again with 1996’s Fargo and No Country for Old Men). There’s a running joke about a dead-end street that has a comic pay-off, and Sam-Art Williams adds some much needed relief as Meurice, another of Marty’s bartenders (listen quickly for Holly Hunter’s voice-only cameo on Meurice’s answering machine. There’s also much humor in Visser’s frequently crude dialogue, especially his “test of true love” speech.

Nowhere in the film can the influence of the horror genre on Blood Simple be more evident than in the climax, where Visser stalks Abby in the darkness of her apartment. It’s a sequence of terrifying spontaneity and unbelievable tension. Like in all memorable entries in the slasher genre, there is a shocking act of violence. One so terrible and memorable that it remains iconic in the thriller canon.

Blood Simple made a huge impact when it was released in 1984, and made a big splash at the very first Independent Spirit Awards, where M. Emmet Walsh won for Best Male Lead, and Joel Coen tied with Martin Scorsese (for After Hours) for Best Director. It remains an important entry in the neo-noir genre, and one of the Coen’s finest thrillers. Hopefully, it can also be rediscovered by a new audience, who can appreciate its horror-film inspired style and mood.

Blood Simple. 1984. Dir. Joel and Ethan Coen. With John Getz, Frances McDormand, Dan Hedaya, M. Emmet Walsh and Samm-Art Williams. Written by Joel and Ethan Coen. Cinematography by Barry Sonnenfeld. United States.