THE LAST SEDUCTION
A film review by Edward W. Felton
Copyright 1994 Edward W. Felton
My father, bless him, has taught me two valuable lessons in life; learn to tie your own bow ties, and steer well clear of made-for-TV movies. Honest advice, I thought; most TV movies seemed to feature Jaclyn Smith or some other fading star, and almost always seemed to have Mommy in the title. However, a few years ago, a strange thing happened; both HBO in the United States and Channel 4 in England started coming out with carefully crafted, creatively budgeted movies of extremely high quality. Prominent among these was HBO's RED ROCK WEST, an odd little film noir that caused quite a stir when first released. I saw in the cinema about two years ago, as it got a theatrical release in Europe. A quirky tale with an excellent cast, with Nicholas Cage as the nice guy, Dennis Hopper as the crazy bad guy (a real stretch, presumably) and Lara Flynn Boyle as the pasty-faced love interest. With lots of guns, dusty country roads and fun cameos, RED ROCK WEST was a lot of fun. THE LAST SEDUCTION is a similar HBO effort, but simply doesn't match it for quality.
So basically what happens is that killer babe from hell, Linda Fiorentino, robs her unpleasant husband of a bag of cash and goes underground in a small town. She stays nicely incognito, ludicrously strutting into the redneck bar in with high heels and power shoulder pads. Still, we learn a great deal about her character. She can write backwards. Insightful stuff. Tumbling into the sack with the local Brad Pitt, without the acting talent, we get what we really came for ... cue moodily lit limbs and arched backs-a-plenty. Irked hubby sends heavies after her, only to be foiled by the witty, sassy and invincible Wendy Kroy. An hour of transparent plot devices and tacked-on characterizations later, and nothing much has changed.
Critics have raved over Fiorentino, describing her as both sex and talent incarnate. I wouldn't go that far; although certainly not unattractive, and more than willing to get her kit off in the name of cinema verite, she's just not that special. Hers is a big, and therefore admirable role for a woman, though curiously one-dimensional. She's tough, she's cool, she's sexy. But then so is Paul Newman, only he doesn't have to break out the skimpy underwear to achieve it. As far as I know. Anyway, the lack of an adequate male lead to balance the movie although this isn't so important in reverse lessens the range of the film considerably. Small, boring country towns are by definition, small and boring, one wildcat in high heels doesn't exactly set the screen on fire. The scenes between her and the himbo lover are laughable; What are you running from, Wendy? There's some original innovative dialogue for you. The New York scenes, merely familiar, include that damn location under the Brooklyn Bridge, used for the bazillionth time. Add to that a moronic plot twist (remember De Niro as Louis Cypher in ANGEL HEART? Yup....) and a plethora of dull characters, and we re checking wristwatches an hour into the film. An irritatingly repetitive jazz score, vaguely reminiscent of The Firm, is constant and grinding. Great legs emerging from car door, the sort of thing normally smothered in a sax solo, receive the same bouncy eight bars as the chase through a building, and hero in contemplative mood. Fiorentino, however, has definite potential for the future, but she's not enough to carry this movie on her own. The conclusion, after a tortuously convoluted final reel, the inevitable triumph of the female will, is nicely tied up, and the movie becomes At Last Seductive: too little, too late. A disappointing two out of ten.
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