With its sordid tale of sex, murder and fatalism, 1981's Body Heat helped spur a film noir revival for the decade of skinny ties and parachute pants. Twenty-five years after stars William Hurt and Kathleen Turner first steamed up movie theaters, the picture holds up remarkably well -- which, come to think of it, isn't so surprising for a movie that tips the fedora to such classic of the 1940s as Double Indemnity and The Postman Always Rings Twice.

Hurt shines in one of his earliest lead roles as Ned Racine, a womanizing criminal lawyer saddled with the faint air of a loser. Ensconced in a sleazy routine of representing lowlifes and banging flight attendants in his Florida hometown, Ned's life takes a sudden shift when he catches a whiff of sexy and mysterious Matty Walker (Kathleen Turner). She's a married woman – and to a fairly sinister millionaire, to boot – but that inconvenient fact doesn't stop horndog Ned from pursuing her. After a particularly breathless encounter, the pair embarks on a torrid, and quasi-explicit, affair.

But any noir buff knows that hot-blooded passions invariably lead to cold-hearted crime. Ned and Matty realize how much easier life would be if Matty's rich husband, Edmund (a wonderfully oily Richard Crenna), was out of the picture -- literally. And so the clandestine lovers hatch a murder scheme with the help of an arsonist (Mickey Rourke) who is one of Ned's former clients.

Writer-director Lawrence Kasdan (The Big Chill, Grand Canyon) reveals an infectious love for -- and allegiance to -- the tenets of film noir. His dialogue crackles. "Sometimes I know the shit comes down so heavy I feel like I should wear a hat," Ned quips, indicative of the screenwriter's talent for hard-boiled lines that stop just short of silliness. And Kasdan adorns the edges with startling images (nothing says "bad omen" like a clown in a convertible) and memorable minor characters. In the latter realm, Ted Danson scores as an assistant county prosecutor.

But Kasdan's more impressive accomplishment is good old-fashioned storytelling. This is filmmaking at its most confident (particularly notable since it was Kasdan's directorial debut). Audiences know where Body Heat is headed from the moment Ned zeroes in on Matty Walker, a sexpot who could just as well be wearing a sandwich board reading "Femme Fatale." Matty is obviously bad news. The fun part is watching her badness unfold as Kasdan spins a clever narrative with its share of "a-ha!" twists.

Body Heat sizzled with audiences at the time, and for good reason. Turner's husky voice and smokin' hot sex appeal made her an overnight movie star. Even so, the movie is dominated by Hurt's performance -- one of his least-mannered -- as a born chump who isn't quite as smart as he'd like to think. After all, Ned is the kind of guy who needs to be told not to smoke in an arsonist's workspace.

The 1.85:1 anamorphic widescreen picture is certainly adequate, but a supposedly spruced-up DVD deserves better. Many scenes are noticeably soft and beset by minor grain, particularly in nighttime sequences, which are many. Similarly, the soft picture quality isn't helped in scenes where diffuse sunlight streams in from office windows.

The Dolby Digital 5.1 is flat and uninspired, but this dialogue-driven movie boasts a clean and clear sound that gets the job done. John Barry's sultry music score practically slinks out of the speakers. Subtitles are available in English, Spanish and French, as well as a French audio track.

The DVD boasts three mini-documentaries -- The Plan, The Production and The Post-Production -- that clock in for a total length of 43 minutes, 34 seconds. Taken together, the pieces are thorough and informative, but curiously lacking in energy. The documentaries feature interviews with Kasdan, Hurt, Turner, Danson, composer Barry, editor Carol Littleton and cinematographer Richard Kline. Hurt again shows himself to be insufferably arrogant and a bit weird.

It's a kick to see a young William Hurt and Kathleen Turner in 1981 interview footage that appears to be for a Belgian television program (the DVD does not indicate the source material). The uncut footage runs 12 minutes, 30 seconds. And again, Hurt shows himself to be insufferably arrogant and a bit weird.

Rounding out the extras are five deleted scenes (9:30) and a theatrical trailer.

Body Heat isn't a paean to film noir; it's the real McCoy. In word and image, Lawrence Kasdan fashioned a thriller of rare sure-footedness, style and wit. This marks the second go-around for the flick on DVD, and while it doesn't quite live up to the "deluxe edition" billing, the documentaries are a worthwhile bonus.