A down on his luck actor (Craig Wasson) is fired from a low budget horror picture when his claustrophobia wrecks havoc on his role as a glitter rock vampire. A fellow actor (Gregg Henry) lands him a gig caretaking the octagonal Chemosphere house that sits in the hills above the San Fernando Valley. He also directs Wasson to a telescope and the neighbor down the hill, whose nocturnal habits include doing a strip tease and pleasuring herself in front of an open window.

Wasson’s voyeurism prompts him to start following the woman (Deborah Shelton) when he spies another man following her. He later witnesses her murder, but begins to suspect he’s been set up when he catches a porn star (Melanie Griffith, in a career remaking role) on TV doing the same dance he caught through the telescope.

Furious over the MPAA branding his original cut of Scarface with an X-rating, director Brian DePalma’s famous dictum was “If they want an X, I’ll give em a REAL X!” Rewriting a script by Robert Avrech, the original plan was for DePalma to produce and Ken Wiederhorn – who later went on to an esteemed career helming Meatballs II and Return of the Living Dead Part II - to direct.

Instead of pushing new boundaries in screen sexuality, or even breaking any artistic ground like DePalma’s earlier thrillers did, Body Double shares an unfortunate resemblance to the quickie schlock that quickly found its way onto video shelves in the mid-1980s.

Wasson is passable as the story’s patsy, and that’s being generous. Gregg Henry is obviously the bad guy from the first second we see him, but he’s terrific in the role. Melanie Griffith resurrected her career here, taking a role which was offered to and passed on by porn star Annette Haven, and then by Jamie Lee Curtis.

Griffith will never lose herself in a character and will probably never win an Oscar, though she was actually nominated for Golden Globe here. She is physically uninhibited and does totally throw herself into the part.

The appearance of Frankie Goes To Hollywood, riding high with their one hit wonder “Relax,” is a blessing and curse. The tune actually fits the film so well you’d think they produced it specifically for DePalma. But watching lead singer Trevor Horn lip synch the song for the porn film within a film only relegates this title to the ’80s video shelf even more.

The porn industry glimpsed at in the last half of the film shares nothing in common with reality as we know it. The ease with which Wasson’s character immerses himself in that world and the porn shoot he gets cast in are among the most ridiculous flights of fantasy ever concocted for a thriller.

The film messes around until the final five minutes, when it finally unleashes some cleverness. Wasson finds his claustrophobia overwhelming as he and Griffith lie at the bottom of a grave and he wakes up back in his fake coffin on set. Was the whole movie a dream? As the end credits roll, DePalma also displays some wit by having Wasson’s character receive direction (by Dennis Franz) on how to shoot a shower scene with a body double. It’s a case of too little, too late.