After several disappointments in the mid- to late-1960s, Frenzy marked a near-return to form for the master of suspense, Alfred Hitchcock. The film also marked a homecoming of sorts for the director, who returned to his native London for this 1972 thriller that echoed his past glories while it simultaneously exploited the decade's newfound permissiveness.

Jon Finch stars as Richard "Dick" Blaney, an ex-RAF squadron leader who has since fallen on hard times. Recently fired from his bartending job for helping himself to a drink, Dick is penniless and pissed at the world. Perhaps most unfortunate of all, the ill-tempered man is having public temper tantrums at the same time London is being terrorized by a serial killer who uses neckties to strangle his female victims.

The so-called "Necktie Murderer," we soon learn, is none other than Dick's best mate, Bob Rusk (Barry Foster), a friendly produce merchant in Covent Garden. After Rusk rapes and murders Dick's ex-wife, Brenda (Barbara Leigh-Hunt), a string of circumstantial evidence leads Scotland Yard investigators to finger Dick as the culprit.

Sound familiar? The legendary filmmaker employed the "wrong man" theme in many of his films (The 39 Steps, Saboteur, North by Northwest, etc.) but few Hitchcock protagonists can match Dick Blaney for sheer unpleasantness. Throughout Frenzy, he has fits of anger, snipes at whoever happens to be around and generally feels sorry for himself. There are even hints that he was abusive toward Brenda.

Considerably more likeable -- at least on the surface -- is the villainous Bob Rusk, his outwardly friendly demeanor reflective of a morally ambivalent universe that threatens to bubble over with violence. Indeed, Hitch can't resist prodding his audience into identifying with the film's resident psychopath. In the same way that Strangers on a Train's Bruno (Robert Walker) strained to retrieve an incriminating cigarette lighter from the gutter, so, too, is Bob Rusk put through agony to recover a tie pin that would link him to the murders. In a scene both excruciating and morbidly funny, the killer -- trapped in the bed of a truck carrying potatoes -- struggles to pry open the fingers of his dead victim as rigor mortis sets in. And we catch ourselves rooting for the bad guy.

That transference of sympathy is particularly unsettling since Hitchcock pulls no punches depicting the full depths of Rusk's villainy. Reveling in depravity, the movie starkly presents Rusk raping and murdering Brenda Blaney, who operates a matrimonial agency that has spurned Rusk's business. This is brutal stuff, with Hitchcock nursing a sadistic streak that had been tamped down in past decades by the Hayes Office.

Frenzy is undoubtedly one of Hitchcock's grimmest works. Shot by gifted cinematographer Gilbert Taylor, the images are darkly lit and seemingly dusted in soot. A strain of misogyny that characterized much of Hitchcock's oeuvre is allowed to run rampant. Remarking on the murderer's practice of raping his victims before slaying them, a police officer quips to a barmaid that "every cloud has its silver lining" -- and the line is clearly meant as a joke.

Most of Frenzy's black comedy, however, is much more effective. Hitchcock found a top-notch collaborator in screenwriter Anthony Shaffer. The genius of both men shines in two wonderful scenes that find the murders' chief investigator (Alec McCowen) suffering through gourmet meals prepared by his well-meaning wife (Viven Merchant). Not only do the scenes provide welcome levity, but they also help gussy up some talky exposition.

Even in Hitchcock's twilight years, he continued to experiment with cinema in various ways. While Frenzy boasts several brilliant shots that rank with the director's best work, the camera wizardry always serves to augment the storyline, not replace it.

When Rusk leads unsuspecting victim Baby Milligan (Anna Massey) to his flat, the camera follows the pair as they enter his apartment, but goes no further. Instead, the camera silently tracks back, down a staircase and (with the help of a sneaky edit) out the tenement building and to the busy, noisy street outside.

In a similar shot, Hitchcock lets the camera linger on the exterior of Brenda Blaney's office building, where we know her priggish secretary (Madge Ryan) will soon discover her employer's corpse. The camera remains stationary for several awkward beats. Then two passersby finally come into frame, and we hear the inevitable scream from inside the building.

In these two shots, Hitchcock cleverly conveys the horrors hidden behind closed doors. It is a fitting motif for a movie about barely concealed rage and a likeable serial killer.

This 1.85:1 anamorphic widescreen picture is a noticeable improvement from the last time Frenzy was released on DVD, way back in the sepia-toned year of 2001. That doesn't mean this is a pristine print. There is slight grain in a few scenes and an occasional soft image. This has never been an especially handsome-looking movie, however, and no remastering will eradicate the dreary browns and grays that dominate its color scheme.

The Dolby Digital 2.0 is fairly unremarkable. Still, the dialogue is clear and the screams are piercing. What else do you need? Viewers can select English or French audio tracks. Subtitles are available in English and Spanish.

The Story of Frenzy is a thorough, and thoroughly engaging, examination of the movie. Directed by noted documentary filmmaker Laurent Bouzereau, the 45-minute featurette includes nifty behind-the-scenes footage and interviews with Jon Finch, Barry Foster, Anthony Shaffer, Anna Massey (who plays Dick's girlfriend, Babs Milligan) and film director and scholar Peter Bogdanovich.

Other extras include production photographs, production notes and a theatrical trailer.