This mess is manifestly a vanity picture for executive producer and male lead Rob Steinberg, but it fails to provide a modicum of interest for anyone with even a portion of a functioning brain. The low budget affair is set during New Year's Eve, primarily within the Los Angeles hillside home of Paula (Sam Jenkins), a television producer, who is hosting a holiday party for her employees and co-workers. The festivity is crashed by an apparent outsider, Ed Coates (Steinberg) whom we observe in an opening scene attempting suicide inside his vehicle, somehow failing as the round only grazes his forehead, following which he drives to the remote hillside residence of Paula and her husband Fred ( Stephen Polk), where merrymakers are then subjected to Ed's venture into sadism. This entails Ed's governance, at gunpoint, of a series of forced "confessions" recounted in lieu of death by shooting, a fate delivered by the sociopath to a guest at the start of the proceedings, ostensibly to indicate his lethal sincerity. While private lives are being laid bare Fred, upstairs ministering to the young son of the couple when Coates invaded the premises, as a result is undiscovered, and it remains up to him to find a method of rescuing his wife and friends. Artistic and technical limitations of the director are in evidence throughout the clumsily paced effort that leaves one with a perception of its being much longer than it actually is. A script doctor possessing superlative skills could do little with this movie's screenplay that seems to develop as the listless piece meanders on. Several of the players have proved capable, notably Jenkins, Polk, and Delaune Michel, and it is beyond doubt enormously trying to mouth the insipidities written for their parts. Production values for this less than student quality film are poor (although cinematographer Darko Savak diverts himself with interesting lighting compositions) and continuity is undone in this graceless example of something that should have been stillborn.
