Night Game

Thanks to brilliant genre classics, such as "Jaws", "The French Connection" and "Sorcerer", Roy Scheider is one of my - admittedly many - cinematic heroes, but it's nevertheless quite difficult to take him seriously here in this film. Roy depicts a police detective in a coastal Texan town, who asked the daughter of his high-school sweetheart to marry him (!), and meanwhile he tries to solve the case of a serial killer who slays beautiful blond women with a hook. His modus operandi also seems to be linked to the calendar of the local baseball team. Neither the plot nor any of the characters are very plausible, but luckily there are other things to enjoy in "Night Game". There's a lot of misplaced humor, for instance one of the deputies gets sick upon the discovery of a new body whereas another one orders pizza to the place of a crime scene. The killer cuts the throats of victims with a hook; hence the murders are reasonably gory and sadist, and the stalking that he does before killing them results in a couple of suspenseful moments, notably at the mirror-palace at the carnal or on the construction site near the beach. Scheiders' quarrels with his future mother-in-law are often funny, and there are pointless supportive roles for familiar faces like Lane Smith and Paul Glaser.

Roy Scheider plays Mike Seaver, a Texas police detective (and former ballplayer) who picks up the trail of a serial killer in this very pedestrian thriller. The hook here is that the killers' attacks are tied in to night games at the Houston Astrodome. Roy's impending marriage to the much younger Roxy (Karen Young) forms a subplot, as does Roy's vendetta against a fellow detective, Broussard (Paul Gleason) whom he believes to be corrupt.

A rock solid cast does the best that it can with this routine script by Spencer Eastman and Anthony Palmer. (Palmer also plays the supporting role of Mendoza.) Peter Masterson is a good director, and the movie isn't incompetently made, but it's of no real distinction. It's pretty predictable, although it might hold the attention of some viewers because of its brutal murders, location filming, and fine performances. It's gorgeously shot by Fred Murphy, and the score by Pino Donaggio is okay but it's definitely not as memorable as the scores he composed for features such as "Carrie", "Piranha", "Dressed to Kill", and "The Howling". Pacing is mostly decent, but the movie is just not that exciting, even in its final act when Seaver realizes who the killer is and races to prevent them from committing another murder.

Scheider is fine as always in the lead, even if he doesn't have great material to work with here. Young is radiant and appealing as his love interest. Gleason is amusing in one of his typical jerk roles, and Richard Bradford glowers and rants adequately as Scheiders' commanding officer. Lane Smith is rather wasted as a government man named Witty. Carlin Glynn (Mastersons' wife) plays Scheiders' domineering future mother-in-law; Rex Linn of 'CSI: Miami' makes one of his earliest feature film appearances.

This is watchable enough but completely forgettable once it's over.

Five out of 10.

. . . this what the serial killer movie looked like. The plot is leaky to say the least: someone would have picked up on the fact that the murders only occur when the local team plays, and when a certain player scores. The fact that he kills with a hook would get out, and someone would immediately remember a disaffected loner with a hook for a hand. FBI Behavioural Sciences would solve this in a day.

The director seems immensely impressed with the fact he's filming in Texas, far from the gaze of Studio execs, and packs in endless loving aerial vistas. His visual style is stuck in TV Movie Lite, and along with the soundtrack could have originated from anytime since 1972. Only the clothes and hairstyles suggest its 80's dating, and even those seem stuck in a timewarp from 1985 rather than 1989.

Roy Scheider looks embarrassed, Karen Young flashes her breasts in the first 10 minutes. Subplots about Scheider's character's father's links to organised crime and tension with his girlfriend's mother (who he dated in High School) detract from the story and go unresolved. One face to watch out for: the blonde victim in the Hall of Mirrors is played by Renee O'Connor, Xena's sidekick Gabrielle. I only watched the rest of the film because I thought I recognised her face and wanted to check the credits!

Good old fashion serial killer movie! Pleasant not with vulgar language!

I wondered if anyone could come along in the '80s and be more verbally blasphemous than Brian Dennehy. He seemed to be the "Babe Ruth" of using the Lord's name in vain. However, in this movie, Richard Bradford stepped up to the plate and becomes Barry Bonds! Bradford must have set the record for the most usages of the Lord's name in vain by a policeman in a Hollywood film, as well as being in the Top Ten for any role at any time. He was so ridiculous that I watched this with a TV Guardian the second time and four of his profane tirades skipped by the machine in less than seven minutes. Most of what he said, sentence after sentence, had to be edited. What a classy guy!

Too bad, because I enjoy films with sports angles, particularly baseball. It wasn't just Bradford's mouth, however, that turned me off. This entire film had Class B dialog throughout it, along with sub-par directing.

One reviewer here might have said it better than anyone with the comment, "If you liked I Know What You Did Last Summer, I Still Know What You Did Last Summer, and Candyman, go ahead and rent this from your local video store."

Well, that's some testimony. I didn't like those pieces of crap, either, and so this aptly belongs with them.

Who needs rain?? This "night game" should have been called in bottom of the first inning on the count of incompetence.