In the Cold of the Night

Or is it nightmare woman? No pun intended - and a typical 90s thriller. The acting really isn't up to the - well any standard for that matter. But it is what it is. And this is a movie that has some skin (nudity) to it. While trying to make us feel the thrill from start to finish. Might not work for everyone.

But this tries to concentrate on the story, so there is not that much erotic stuff, if that is what you are looking for. Do not waste your time is what I am saying. Visually this is also quite clearly a product of the 90s. There is not a high budget this is working with - this just meets ends - or however that saying goes.

Probably one of the worst films I have seen. The lead actor is a joke. He should be ashamed that this piece of "work" is in circulation. Not to mention a waste of money.

I only have one thing to say about this movie, and that is that the guy sleeps on a water bed with a fluorescent light *inside* the mattress!

Say what you will about the rest of the film, that alone is one of the dumbest things I have ever seen. No wonder the guy has nightmares.

My review was written in January 1991 after watching the movie on Republic Pictures video cassette.

A very sexy lead performance by Adrienne Sachs highlights the farfetched nightmare thriller "In the Cold of the Night". Pic should score in the sex noir video and cable market; it's available in both NC-17 and R formats.

Filmmaker Nico Mastorakis harks back to the 1982 thriller "Blind Date" (one of Kirstie Alley's first leading roles) for a sci-fi thriller plot that has too many holes and is too attenuated for its own good.

Glamor photographer Jeff Lester is haunted by nightmares starring Sachs as a woman (whom he's never met in real life) that he kills. Shrink David Soul can't help much, and Leter's sex life with beauties like Shannon Tweed (a young vet of this genre) is hampered by his violent craziness brought on by the bad dreams.

Sachs shows up in the flesh in the third reel and pic slows down for endless sack time of her with Lester. Though the viewer knows they're headed for an unhappy ending, it's rewarding to watch this young actress. Lester is a bit bland; the role could have benefited from a name actor.

Film's credibility comes unglued with the introduction of Marc Singer as Sachs' boyfriend, who has rigged up a ludicrous mind-controlling experiment involving implants and laser disk recordings. Finale is a confusing anticlimax.

Mastorakis brings plenty of visual style to the thriller genre, and should attract a following in the wake of similar sex-oriented titles "Night Eyes", "Last Call" and "Deceptions". His in-jokes are poor, such as Tippi Hedren guest starring as Sachs' unlikely mom, who "has this thing about birds" or Lester glumly watching laser disks of Mastorakis' films "The Wind" and "Glitch".

A corny musical score, credited to many people, features a wailing tenor sax whenever the Pavlovian sex is about to begin.

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.