Dead Sexy

Of all the "Basic Instinct" copies that have been made since 1992 (and there are plenty), "Dead Sexy" must be one of the most blatant. Sure, it switches the genders of the two main characters, but keeps almost everything else the same, right down to the only other suspect for the killings being someone within the police force who has hidden ties to the primary suspect. Of course "Dead Sexy" does not come anywhere near the style and suspense and general quality of the Verhoeven film, but on its own low-budget straight-to-video terms it's a fair way to pass some time. Shannon Tweed is acceptable, Sam Jones (as her partner) is even better, injecting some needed humor into the proceedings. As for the matter of the body double, I personally cannot understand why Tweed felt the need to use one. She showed everything - and it looked good as usual - in "The Rowdy Girls", made in 2000; what could have changed so much over a year? (**)

The reason Shannon Tweed no longer appears nude in films is because she no longer looks good nude. The reason for that is simple: she is 43 in this movie (48, almost 49 at this writing) and showing her age. Actually, she looks older than 43. She looks grim, hard, and beat-up. These girls (strippers, soft-core porn workers) apparently don't age well, and Tweed is no exception. The problem isn't that she doesn't appear nude here (I am grateful that she doesn't. One look at her clothed and you know you do not want to see her naked), it's that this is just a bad movie.

Tweed is not a good actress and cannot convince us she is a cop. The writing is weak, the characters stereotypes, and the storyline is threadbare. Movies like this are not supposed to be good anyway, but when they try to be, in between sex scenes, it's ludicrous. Stilted dialogue, awkward direction, poor editing, bad acting, this film has them all. There aren't enough sex scenes (with younger, better-looking women than Tweed) to justify renting this.

Shannon Tweed strikes again in this thriller about the murders of high-priced escorts. She is the cop on the case, and begins getting an itch south of the navel for her prime suspect (John Enos). The red herrings are laughably obvious and the several sex scenes are all exactly the same (woman on top with lots of jumping and shouting). Even worse, Tweed opts this time to use a body double. This is a movie that fails to satisfy on just about every level.

Back in the 1990s, blonde actress Shannon Tweed was a mainstay of late night cable television. After the success of the psycho-thriller sub-genre, in particular BASIC INSTINCT, B-movie producers were desperate to get a slice of the proverbial pie by doling out their own low budget erotic thrillers, invariably starring one of half a dozen actresses who were happy to strip for their craft.

Shannon Tweed was the best known of these stars, a pneumatic blonde who displayed some measure of acting talent which was rare for this sub-sub-genre. DEAD SEXY marks the final erotic thriller she made; her advancing years and a general public dissatisfaction for the stale genre saw tastes move elsewhere. Invariably this film is a disappointment, lacking the finesse of an Andrew Stevens production, feeling instead like a cheap cash-in on a once popular market.

Tweed plays a detective investigating a series of murders in which call girls were thrown off high buildings. Her investigation leads her into the clutches of a rich playboy (John Enos III) called Blue, a guy who's the main suspect. She has to literally go to bed with him in order to find out the truth, and of course there are the requisite twists and turns along the way.

Tweed is the best actor in this film, which is saying something. The years have been kind to her, and even if she doesn't parade around naked anymore then she still packs a attractive punch. The less said about Enos the better, although viewers are treated to a slumming-it Sam J. Jones (FLASH GORDON) playing Tweed's partner. As a whole, though, the thrills are non-existent, the plotting is very poor, and the sex scenes are a complete waste of time, no better than filler material. You'd be better off checking the films that came out ten years before this to see the genre at its finest.

Let's face it, Shannon Tweed is not a great (or even necessarily a good) actress. The title says it all: It's another example of Tweed's stock in trade: The grade-C erotic thriller in which she packs a piece---always a big phallic firearm---and then gets the hots for another kind of piece, and eventually takes her clothes off. Everything else is just an attention-getting device to keep you watching between the sex scenes. Even if you cheerfully accept these limitations, this turkey is a cynical cheat on the viewer. Tweed was 43 when she made this movie, and like Renee Russo, she has a fabulous body for her age, but it is still a fabulous 43-year-old body. So if you're an over-40 former Playmate who insists on making movies with nude sex scenes, either be honest, like Helen Mirren, and do them yourself or quit the business. Don't use a body double, which she so blatantly does in this flick. If the number of porn sites on the Web featuring over-35 "hotties" is any indication, there's a market for films with middle-aged women who get naked.

The bad guy, John Enos, has one of the least photogenic screen personas I've ever seen. He elicits no cinematic interest whatsoever and he and Tweed have essentially no on-screen chemistry. They are just going through the motions. Why anyone would think the Tweed character would develop an itchy-koo for him is beyond me, except that Enos, although not really that similar in features to Tweed's squeeze Gene Simmons, somewhat resembles him in physique and complexion. Maybe that's why Tweed chose Enos. Whether he resembles Simmons in other ways is something I have no idea about. (Let's not even get into Gene Simmons's public persona and what it says about Tweed's taste in men that she has been with him for years.) And it's somehow oddly appropriate, considering this movie, that in the IMDb photo galleries, Enos is seen accompanied by Traci Lords.

This flick is strictly desperation time.