During WWII, a corpse was dressed in a British uniform and thrown off a boat with
a briefcase full of disinformation handcuffed to its wrist. Treasure Island
uses that counterintelligence ploy as a jumping-off point for a story of psychosexual
tension and swirling weirdness that escalates to surreal proportions. Two cryptographers
become obsessed with the corpse that won't stay dead as it bedevils them during their
off hours and taunts their sex lives with its androgynous appeal. With meticulous
attention to period detail and crisp black-and-white cinematography, it sometimes
calls to mind a somewhat more artful version of a low-budget Republic Studios film
from the Forties. Unfortunately, two-thirds of the way through the film, the story
gets even more convoluted, the characters more twisted, and the film sags and ultimately
collapses under the weight of its own pretensions.
--Jerry Renshaw
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