Blood Simple (1984) To mark the re-release of their seminal debut feature Blood Simple, fraternal filmmakers Ethan and Joel Coen created a brief, jokey prologue starring one Mortimer Young, a fictional film preservationist who heralds the second coming of their "exquisite masterpiece." Mr. Young may be laying it on a bit thick there, but he's not far from the truth, especially when he credits the film with "ushering in the era of independent cinema." In the 16 years since its original release, this shady little neo-noir number has been dog-eared as a primogenitor of the modern indie film. Taut, quirky, and jump-out-of-your-seat scary, Blood Simple is returning to theaters in a new director's cut  "digitally enhanced and tastefully restored," says our host  and it's well worth the second look. Texan bar proprietor Julian Marty (Dan Hedaya) believes that his wife, Abby (the excellent Frances McDormand, aka Mrs. Joel Coen), is canoodling with another man, so he hires private detective Loren Visser (M. Emmet Walsh in an wicked, prize-winning turn) to investigate and deliver evidence of her betrayal. So, Visser follows Abby and her secret consort, Marty's bartender Ray (John Getz), to a roadside motel and  bingo  snaps a few photos of the pair in flagrante delicto. When Visser confirms Marty's suspicions, the humiliated husband crumples, instantly demoted on the macho-meter from cocky bull to cuckolded steer  all hat and no cattle, as it were. Marty fixes his focus on the repulsive Visser, a man upon whom flies instinctively come to settle, and wonders out loud if he shouldn't kill this unsavory messenger to bolster his sagging ego, or enlist him for a far more gruesome task than the first. Meanwhile, Abby takes up with Ray, a quiet sort, but one willing to go to unspeakable lengths to win her. Abby has a gun, she tells Ray, that Marty gave her, and now she's leaving "anal," gruff Marty before she snaps and points it at him. It would spoil the spring-coiled surprises and plot twists to detail too much more of the story, but let's just say that Abby's gun is the fatal link that connects all the characters. By the end, each of them just might end up on the wrong side of that little pearl-handled pistol . So why the re-release? For one, video certainly didn't do this film justice. The hazy transfer and changes from the original soundtrack (including one regrettable and repetitive country rendition of The Monkees' "I'm a Believer") date the VHS version above and beyond McDormand's banana clips and denim jumpsuits (both of which are in no way limited to '80s fashion in Texas). In the restoration process, the Coens said they went "back to the original camera negative to generate new printing elements," and clipped "some of the boring parts." The editing is tighter, the sound effects clearer, and Barry Sonnenfeld's skilled cinematography more discernible. These enhancements bring the audience closer to the characters on-screen, allowing the viewer to be startled by raspy breathing and buzzing neon, dreading the approach of a dragging shovel, and stunned by the sudden punch of bullets through drywall, as light cuts through in sharp rays. Simply put, Blood Simple becomes more bloodcurdlingly suspenseful in direct proportion to the size of the screen. It's a forceful and significant debut, well-deserving of its ranking as a classic, and it has aged well, thanks largely to the calibrated, attuned performances of the entire cast. The title refers to the delirious mental state that accompanies a killing  half shocked, half hopped-up on adrenaline and base instinct  and Marty, Abby, Visser, and Ray all taste it at some point in this precarious cat-and-mouse hunt. It's what a haggard Ray feels as he advises Abby, "If you're going to point a gun at someone, you'd better be ready to shoot it, and if you do, you'd better make sure he's dead."  KASIA ANDERSON