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Boring

Absolutely Brilliant!

In truth, there is barely enough story here to make a film.

This is a coming of age storyline that you've seen in one form or another for decades. It takes a truly unique voice to make yet another one worth watching.

"Basic Instinct" was all the rage in the early 1990s, and many erotic thrillers tried to follow its path, upping the ante in violence and sex. "Color of Night" is one of those, and it cannot hold a candle to the 1992 film: there is little erotic heat between Bruce Willis and Jane March (who is cute, but no Sharon Stone in her prime), and the story is mostly predictable, with one major twist poorly disguised (no pun intended). It is also extremely long (140 minutes in its "uncut" form) for its genre. Nevertheless, it stays compulsively watchable for the duration. There are some great car stunts, some well-drawn supporting characters (Brad Dourif, Lans Henriksen), and a strong sense of humor (Ruben Blades, in particular, is frequently hilarious). The film is not nearly as bad as it is reputed to be in some circles. **1/2 out of 4.

This film is extremely good. Of course, since it is a head shrink film, we can imagine the twisted denouement from the very beginning, that it will have to do with sexual identification or dis-identification, but at the same time it is done well enough for us to have some kind of doubts and follow the events the way they come and be surprised by the details of the horror of these perverted psychos. I won't give you the details because that would go against the confidentiality rule that I gave sworn to respect once I became an almighty reviewer, or critic.I do breach that sworn confidentiality all the time, but this time no, not at all.You can send Dexter and I won't do it either. I am not afraid of Dexter and anyway he will never be able to cut me into small pieces because I am protected the charm of my old years.If you want the details you'll have to watch the film. But make sure you know what's the difference between a boy and a girl and vice versa otherwise you may get slightly sick which would be your punishment since you had been warned. Enjoy that trip to Los Angeles, the perfectly well named city of angels. So many little angels are fluttering around our heads in this basically murderous city.Dr Jacques COULARDEAU, University Paris 1 Pantheon Sorbonne, University Paris 8 Saint Denis, University Paris 12 Créteil, CEGID

The Color of Night is actually one of those rare achievements that no director or screenwriter could possibly strive for if they wanted to. A film that fails at pretty much everything it aspires, but manages to become compulsively viewable to see how much further a train wreck it can become and, by some strange twist, actually attains a level of guilty entertainment value it really does not deserve. Blending together the elements of a psychological Hitchcock thriller with the eroticism of Basic Instinct/Fatal Attraction/late night Cinemax films, the filmmakers end up with a conglomeration that was probably a far cry from what they intended, particularly given that director Richard Rush was actually a director of some reputation. Psychologist Bruce Willis has gone color blind since his inept attempts at counseling led to the unintentional suicide of a patient. He decides to seek solace with an old colleague Scott Bakula, who ends up murdered. Police seem to believe that the culprit is one of the participants of the group therapy sessions that Bakula oversaw and Willis steps in to ferret out the culprit. Meanwhile, Willis crosses paths with enigmatic young sexpot Jane March who may be more involved than he suspects. The group therapy sessions are a great source of unintentional comedy. Made up of fairly reliable character actors like Lance Henriksen, Kevin O'Connor and Lesley Ann Warren, all seem to realize that they are in glorified garbage and find intriguing ways in which to embellish their characters and hog the screen. In between, comical therapy sessions, Rush inserts an obligatory chase scene, a bloody murder, or an energetic sex romp between the leads. No one can ever accuse the film of being a bore. Unfortunately the ham factor does not extend to the leads. March has been handed a virtually unplayable part filled with assorted pitfalls, and even the more remedial elements seem out of her reach. She never seems vampish enough to attract the kind of attention bestowed upon her in the film. Even worse, March's distinctive looks render a latter-film plot twist psychotically absurd when the audience has been leagues ahead of everyone else on screen and the respective characters' bafflement seems downright jaw-dropping. Much press was spilled about the torrid sex scenes compiled for the film, including much ballyhooed full frontal exposure from leading man Willis, but the leads generate no sparks. I give Willis credit for a) generously stepping up to the plate and showing substantial skin at a time when most American mainstream leading men would have run in the opposite direction, and b) trying to play the lead role seriously, but he is positively lifeless in this film. One has no rooting interest in either his relationship with March, his ability to counsel his patients, or whether he will even make it out of the various chase/attack scenes in one piece. He has rendered himself into a virtual stick of wood devoid of any emotion. Yet, in spite of its miscast and outmatched leads and the thoroughly incompetent direction, the film has that car accident quality that keeps one watching well past the point where it should be turned off. The conclusion is pure Grand Guignol corn with a bit of a cheat on the murderer, but what an unintentionally hilarious loony ride it is to that point.

I really don't know how anybody expects me to write more than twenty-five words about such a trashy thriller as "Color of Night". Let's face it, the real attractions - if you can call them that - are the steamy sex scenes between hunky Bruce Willis and nymphomaniac waif Jane March. There is certainly plenty of their flesh on show, so if this is your thing I guess you could wade your way through the rest of the garbage (if you are really that desperate) or make good use of the fast forward button. My advice though would be to use the eject button instead.Director Richard Rush ought to find another vocation, though I admit he had nothing to work with in Billy Ray's story. Director of Photography Dietrich Lohmann has nothing but naked bodies to film, editor Jack Hofstra should have been fired while the music from Dominic Frontiere may be the worst ever composed for a movie of this type.At least the cast, including Lance Henrikson, Lesley Ann Warren, Brad Dourif, Ruben Blades and Kevin J. O'Connor seem to realise they're in a shocker.Sunday, September 22, 1996 - Video