A murderous surgeon (Robert Lansing) concocts a twisted scheme to win his missing daughter's inheritance money: by transforming a Jane Doe (Judith Chapman) into her double.

Although he was a constantly working actor, Lansing is probably best remembered as the authoritarian Brig. Gen. Frank Savage in "12 O'clock High" (1964),the television drama series about World War II bomber pilots. Genre fans may know him from "4D Man" (1959),"Empire of the Ants" (1977) or "The Nest" (1988). "Scalpel" is an early role for Judith Chapman who went on to star in a wide variety of soap operas.

The film has been called a "Hitchcock wannabe", which is fair. But really, it is as good as some of Hitchcock's work. Maybe not his best films, but better than average.

Interesting that imdb has this under the initial title and not the one it seems to be better known for (Scalpel). You'll still find it easily with the title it is marketed (by Arrow for example) and it is a point that gets talked about in the extras of that release too.

Talking about the Arrow release, it is amazing that the original DOP was not just available but went above and beyond to make sure anyone who wants to watch this gets the closest to what he had in mind back when they made the movie! Kudos to him and Arrow for allowing him that (also putting their own version on the disc for anyone to be able to compare and decide which to watch).

But enough about technicalities (although I would argue more than important for the enjoyment),the movie itself is also quite a find. There are always curiosities in the horror world. Movies you may not have heard about, that do deserve to be watched though. This is one of them. It may have notions of other movies (like Eyes without a Face, a classic itself),but that does not take anything away from the movie or the lead performances! Rabid which was released the same year took a similar theme to a different extreme. Both movies are more than fine.

So if you are into horror and like to be scared, I can recommend this highly .. especially when it looks so good as it does ...

Robert Lansing is a reconstructive surgeon, and an adaptable one, plastic, as it turns out. He let his wife drown years ago, then, catching his college-student daughter, Heather, in some heavy petting, drowns her boyfriend. The daughter disappears, as who wouldn't, and nothing is heard of her for more than a year.

Then death, as it must to all men, comes to Heather's immensely wealthy grandfather, Lansing's father-in-law. Grand Dad hates Lansing and leaves all his money to Heather. All well and good except that Heather is nowhere to be found.

What's a psychopathic surgeon to do? Here's what Lansing does. He finds a nearly nude girl of about Heather's age lying on the street, her face bashed in. He rushes her to the hospital and when it develops that Jane Doe has no identification, no family, no background, the penny drops. He reconstructs her face so that she now looks exactly like Heather.

When Jane is discharged, her head still embandaged from occiput to mental process, he takes her home to his mansion and spends the next several months coaching her to take Heather's place and inherit the five million dollars, which they will then split between them.

He throws a big get-together for friends and relatives and introduces Jane as Heather, finally returned from her year and a half in the wilderness, and just in time to claim the inheritance, while insisting that half the money be put into her Daddy's account.

Then complications ensue, or, shall we say, sequela follow. First off, an uncle grows suspicious when he finds out that the faux Heather is not the piano prodigy she once was. During the argument with Lansing, he has a heart attack and drops to the floor, where Lansing is calmly compelled to watch him die, while Lansing himself is making wisecracks and pounding out "Chopsticks" on the piano keys.

Second, there is the problem that Jane now looks and acts just like Heather, and both of them look and act like Judith Chapman, the actress playing both roles. That wouldn't be a problem if Judith Chapman looked like an aardvark but she looks like Judith Chapman. Chapman has a pixyish beauty. Let us treat her face, so to speak. Her eyes are set far apart and she has small but sensual lips that look made for a bong pipe. Her features, in fact, remind one of those old-fashioned plastic dolls that have huge eyes with big black lashes on the upper lids, eyes that roll shut when the doll is set on its back. That, more or less, is what Lansing does to Jane, and it's at her suggestion too. When they're alone, he suggests they get out of the house and have some fun tomorrow. She lifts her gaze meaningfully to his and says, "Philip, why can't we have some fun . . . right now?" He cradles her face with his nimble fingers and murmurs, "You look exactly like her." The similarity includes a skeletal frame that anthropologist's call "gracile", thin and full of grace, though flamboyantly feminine at the pelvic girdle. The air is redolent of incest.

The real Heather returns secretly to the house and tells Jane a few things. The plastic doll is brought upright and the eyeballs click open. Now things get REALLY complicated. Do Heather and Jane decide to play a prank on Lansing by changing places for a day? Does Lansing decide to knock off Jane? Or Heather? Or BOTH? Medical discretion forbids further plot revelations.

Lansing is the right guy for the role. The default setting for his features are a determined scowl and his voice is a resonant but mortally wounded baritone. So when, on rare occasions, he chuckles, you know it must mean something, though not necessarily that he finds the situation at all humorous.

This was written and directed by John Grissmer who, for whatever reasons, did not go on to bigger and better things as this production suggests he might have. The scenes in surgery are pretty convincing. The musical score alternates between a swooping mystery/love theme and snapping snare drums during chase scenes, nothing spectacular. The photography is flat and lacks dynamics. And Grissmer may be a better writer than a director. Hitchcock would have turned this into a teeth-grinder but his religious convictions would have prevented him from imagining such a taboo story, or, if not from imagining it, at least from expressing it.