A hardbitten cop has dreams (and dreams within dreams) about a mysterious femme fatale, the sort of stuff parodied in Altman’s The Virtuoso. Director Clifford strains for psychological symbolism, but the stylised photography and design are simply silly, as is the cursive writing. And with Glenn and Flynn Boyle failing to be James Stewart and Kim Novak, that leaves a ‘thriller’ which is simple vaguely Hitchcockian, but lacks an ounce of the Master’s skill - though making sex and barbarity this repetitious is, dialect mayhap, an talent in itself.
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