
The Mother of All psycho movies.
3 of 4 people found this review helpful.
This is it, people -- the Holy Grail of nineties suspense thrillers. Screenwriter Joe Eszterhas crafted one of the most operatic storylines ever put on the large screen. Director Paul Verhoeven employs his usual visceral, heavy-handed touch as every scene drips with sweaty, stress-induced tension. Michael Douglas(scion of the scenery-chewing Douglas acting clan) over-emotes as a cop-on-the-edge investigating a grisly ice-pick murder. The ice theme continues with the adamantine performance of the aptly named Sharon Stone, as underpants-challenged author Catherine Trammell. Not since the silent era has there been so much eye rolling, teeth gnashing, and gut wrenching for the benefit of Verhoeven's too-close camera. Also making an auspicious debut is the fetching Jeanne Tripplehorn. As the police department shrink assigned to expose Douglas's demons, her black-irised glare and pouting lips exude large amounts of smoldering desire.
The plot grinds to the usual conclusion, and, in the end, you are left with that post-coital, need-a-cigarette feeling you always get when you've gone home with that girl from the strip club. She looks so good, yet acts so bad.
Accept no substitutes, movie lovers, especially the tepid sequel form last year. Nothing equals this potboiler for sheer guilty lowbrow pleasure. Four stars, with a bullet...er, icepick.
Review ID: 10000000003399252

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