Roger Clinton steals this film as a head-shaking Sheriff who stands around a lot at crime scenes and lets everybody else do the figuring out and stuff. Roger is from the Naturalistic school of acting in that you really can't tell he's acting.
Actually, this is typical HBO Filler that's mostly Amateur Hour, but earns some style points and is at least a couple notches above say, Fred Olen Ray. It does generate some suspense, mostly due to another one of William McNamara's intense turns as a full blown psycho. Boyishly handsome in a Montgomery Clift way, there's still something fishy and warped about him that directors seem to like to capitalize on. You also have to sort of admire the way this film so doggedly tries to work out its tired plot.
Speaking of tired, poor Frederick Forrest. He looks exhausted, and of course, quite embarrassed. Priscilla Barnes appears as a drug addicted floozy, and she's really become a pretty gutsy actress as she's aged and her looks have faded. The little girl who is kidnapped is quite poor, however, and because she seems so curiously unmoved and unaffected by all the violence and strangeness going on around her, much of the drama is drained away. Amy Locane, as McNamara's innocent girlfriend, has a good rapport with the girl, but isn't able to convey the complexities of emotion her role demands.
The plot depends on major implausabilities and absurd coincidences, but in all fairness, no more so than many bigger budgeted action flics. There's reason to believe the director could go on and make a halfway decent film in the future.
Finally, this film could also be seen as an unconventional tutorial for single parents looking for a way to circumnavigate the adoption system.
