Meurtres en nocturne

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.

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

The Popular Success, from Fans and Critics of the "Serial-Killer" Genre in the History of Cinema is a Clear Representation of the Filmography that has More "Hits" than "Strike-Outs".

This One is Definite Entry in the Strike-Out Category,

where Nothing Seems to Work and Coalesce into a Watchable "Thriller" or Cinematic Study of the Modern Mayhem and its Murderous Perpetrators.

The "Tone" Set-Forth in this Dull Display, well, there is No Tone.

This Law v Killer is a Misguided Affair, with Distracting, Hardly Relevant Side-Stories (Mother-In-Law) that are Embarrassing.

A Usually Reliable "Lead", Roy Scheider Plays the Act OK, but is Dealt a Numbing and Dumbing-Down Script with Little to Shine and Much to Cause a Cringe.

The Genre has had some Mediocre and Unremarkable Films, ranging from Fair to Great, Depending.

But this One Takes the "Wedding Cake"...

Concluding in the "Astro-Dome" with Scheider and His New Bride (Karen Young), and She Is...about 20 Years Too Young, still Wearing Her Gown from the Wedding, by the way... the Writer that Wrote this Thing Thought it Interesting, or Provocative, or Something, that Scheider Actually Dated Her Mom in High-School...

Wow...Talk about Cringe-Inducing.

The Starting Pitcher, that the Story Revolves Around, Leaves the Mound Goes to the Stands to Congratulate the Detective (by the way a former Minor-Leaguer) for Solving the Case...

He Tells Him to..."Enjoy the Game"...then the Ump Yells...Play Ball.

Few will "Enjoy" this Awful Movie.

The main drawcard is the exciting actor, Roy Scheider. Sadly, he can't carry such a deadweight on his own. The script was absolutely awful and the directing dreadful. The story was slow and the fight scene at the end was like a children's recital. That's not the fault of the actors as I blame that on the director. I like to know who finances these type of films. Too much money and not knowing what to do with it must be the diagnosis. On one interesting note is Karen Young. Does she remind you of Shirley MacLaine or what?

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.