7/10
This had me head scratching... a lot.
25 December 2021
A weirdly ridiculous, atmospheric late-night erotic thriller aping Brian De Palma (who's even mentioned by name?!), but even more so campy and convoluted (I know, how's that even possible?!). Nico Mastorakis' trashy conspiracy laced plot involves realistic nightmares of recurring themes/images, virtual reality murder visions, laserdiscs and a mysterious dream woman (Adrianne Sachs). It really does take on an outlandish turn in the last half-hour when Marc Singer makes himself known, letting us into the bigger scheme of things after a languidly teasing midsection. Doesn't make much sense, but it does enliven the plot in-spite of its lack of high-stake thrills favouring light weight mystery shades, hallucinogenic befuddlement and plenty of night time mist.

Visually it's lit and well-shot. Very 80s in style. Plastered with vibrant colours, sometimes neon and spacious white/cream decors. Right down to the glowing waterbed mattress. It simply pops. Cue in the sultry, smooth sax. And talking about bold and sexy, there's a minor part for Shannon Tweed. I wish she had been picked for the lead actress role, but I can see why Mastorakis went with the exotic Sachs. However I wasn't entirely feeling her spotty performance. Her delivery felt more forced than sincere compared to everyone else. Then there's the beefy Brian Thompson who shows up every once and awhile to provide some helpful advice, when he's not working out or shoving food into his mouth. Lastly there's the very odd, if rather self-aware cameo by Tippi Hedren.

I know people have their kinks. And no, I'm not talking about the protagonist's love for pineapple pizza. But actually the steamy sex scene involving an orgasm brought upon by marbles being poured onto Sachs' breasts. Oh the ecstasy! Forget about the candle wax, or massage oil fellas, marbles should do the trick.
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