Poussée à bout

If you were the father of a 17-year-old boy, would YOU hire a woman who looks like Shannon Tweed as his tutor? How can those supposedly smart people be so oblivious to the obvious? I know that nobody watches these soft-core erotic "thrillers" for the plot, but give us a break! The story here is BLATANTLY stupid, and would've been resolved in about ten minutes if only Andrew Stevens had just looked at a photograph that was in front of him throughout the movie. And how about that ending? It's so abrupt that it will leave you in a state of stunned disbelief (you'll be thinking: where did the last 10 minutes go?). As for the erotic scenes, they're only average, no better or worse than those in most Tweed flicks (although they do include a campy spanking of the teenage son!) (*1/2)

Shannon Tweed does an excellent job of performing as a lonely housewife who blames Andrew Stevens for her husband's suicide. She then manipulates her way into the family and starts seducing them. First the son, then husband, and then the wife. This will go down as a classic soft core erotic thriller.

Wow!!!!! This movie has it all. Uberman, Andrew Stevens stars in and directs this stunning work of action and mise en scene dedicated to one of the biggest problems facing young Americans today. How many youngsters do we have to lose before people begin tightening regulations on after school tutors? I mean, c'mon people. We are losing students at an alarming rate. Finally this film shows the dangers of improperly hiring an unchecked tutor for your children. In this case, a young and nubile wife is forced to deal with the loss of her beloved husband, and decides to take it out on the man (and his family) who she blames for her beloved's death. She worms her way into a high profile tutoring position and proceeds to dismantle Andrew Steven's son strand by strand. Her sexual torture of the poor boy is especially troubling. I think the message here is apparant to all. Please, for God's sake, check references people!!!! I can't stress that enough. And God bless Shannon Tweed. Keep up the good work.

It's quite a brilliant fetch to have Shannon Tweed play a villain, because seeing her use her looks for evil and not for good/neutral is actually pretty hot. Come to think about, she wouldn't have been a bad pick for "Basic Instinct" either. This could be the nudity talking, but she's able to look and act way more evil than Sharon Stone ever could. The plot for what it's worth: after a guy can't get promotion despite lending his wife to the right people, he like, totally kills himself. His wife, understandably, demands vengeance and wants to kill the total jerk who did get the promotion, Alex Weston. Only her idea of vengeance is having wild sex with everybody around him. That'll teach 'em. The audience is given what it wants: ye olde soft core classics (pool table anyone?), but also teenage boy's phantasies brought to life, a lesbian scene, and a fair share of shower scenes. The writing actually proves to be good, even if by accident. For instance, the maid interrupts what could have easily become another steamy sex scene, and you just want her to like, not be there. Then she gets killed. Again, they know what the audience wants. Could you believe it,a soft core movie with a plot that actually kinda makes sense. The ending was both fairly surprising and I should mention hot. If you're ever going to watch soft core accept no substitute.

"Yes, I am afraid of you. Afraid of looking at you too long. Afraid of standing too close to you. Afraid that right now I could justify almost anything," says Alex Weston, the young yuppie patriarch of the film, making the pivotal point just before he sinks his 8 ball in Amanda's rear pocket. Although he doesn't understand it yet, his Gleem-clean, Tide-sparkling, perfectly dysfunctional American family is being methodically diced like a finger caught in a Cuisineart. The horror is in its ease. Trained by ruthless advertisers selling consumerism, the Westons are so part of the circus they don't even see the greasepaint. Amanda does them a favor, really. By bringing things to a quick boil, she diverts them from the slow burn.

Sure, this film's derivative of "Hand That Rocks The Cradle". And it's a bad copy. But that's just why it's so good. In mainstream films with solid, well-acted characterization, you spend your time in motivation and visually-drawn psychology. In "Scorned", the characters are mere sticks moved by the plot, and their symbolic import becomes quickly apparant. Tweed's such a drool, you can't take your eyes off her. And that's just the point. You chide the Weston's fixation for the proverbial carrot and call it, snobbishly, a shallow root, yet you're waiting to see what Amanda's gonna wear--or not wear--in the next scene. Figure it out, Doctor. Feels like Gotchaitis to me.