Popular Culture Review Vol. 25, No. 2, Summer 2014 | Page 107

103 lobby, Bud — dressed in a dark red sports jacket — makes short work of Dwight, shooting the DJ point-blank in the head as he sits in front of a typewriter on which Bud’s just typed another suicide note, “I’ve lived with Dorrie’s killing on my conscience for far too long. Now that her sister suspects, I know there’s no other way. Please forgive me for everything.” Later, when the police discover the note, the chief solemnly pronounces, “Case opened again, case closed again,” then pays Ellen a back-handed compliment for her “police work,” “You did it all, and if I had known you were doing it. I’d have stopped you.” The chiefs not-sosubtle message is that “girls” shouldn’t try to be detectives, that — to quote James Brown — “It’s a man’s world,” a sentiment that aligns the law not only with Ellen’s callous father, whom the film intimates was responsible for his wife’s death, but also the psychopathic Bud, whose masculinity is murderously utilitarian. Although Ellen promptly returns home in a chauffeured black limousine, the long, cypress shadows on the gravel driveway outside her father’s house hint it’s not quite over yet. And sure enough, as soon as Ellen walks in the door, her father tells her someone’s waiting for her in the den and — cue the stinger on the sound track — it’s Bud, dressed in a cream-colored sports jacket and cornflower-yellow shirt, smiling as if he’s just swallowed the canary. The character’s costuming may seem anomalous here, but given Bud’s deceptive, chameleon-like nature, it’s entirely a propos: just as the yellow shirt rhymes with Ellen’s towel and bathrobe in the “diving” sequence, so the light-colored sports jacket remembers the summer suit he was wearing when he murdered Dorrie. The subsequent sequence in which Bud and Ellen ride in long shot across a desert trail directly references Leave Her to Heaven and, in particular, the celebrated passage where another Ellen on horseback wildly strews her father’s ashes across a landscape the color of “dried blood.” In a Kiss Before Dying, though, it’s not Ellen but Bud who’s in love with her father or, at least, her father’s money. In the muted ochre and umber landscape, it is Bud, dressed in tight matching denim-blue pants and jacket — not Ellen, wearing a checked light-blue shirt over khaki riding pants — who stands out. In this scene. Bud’s character exhibits the sort of arresting color-accented costuming typically reserved for the female star. In fact. Bud reverts to form here, wearing the “cool” color he’s most associated with: sky-blue. In the intervening time since the discovery of Dwight’s body, Ellen has changed perceptibly. She’s not only finally reconciled herself to her sister’s death but reached a rapprochement with her father. Bud