Not so long ago I was watching Terminator 2 on DVD and thinking "Linda Hamilton WAS the sexiest screen actress of the 1990s!". Some Hollywood high-roller obviously agreed, and tragically this unerotic, mediocre thriller was born. There is, it has to be said, a lot to be said for sweat, glycerine and extreme body-sculpting. Re-packaged as a low budget "rock chick" in rubber-band miniskirts and chromed leather jacket, Linda looks disappointingly like a what a middle-aged movie executive's secretary wears in his dreams. And whatever happened to James Belushi? A former Arnie co-star, like Linda, in the 80's he was the dependable face of action movies that couldn't afford Bruce Willis. This predictable pot-boiler is not a career high for either. James is let down by the director, often looking wooden, and Linda's split personality psychotherapist swings from a reprise of "Sarah Connor on Thorazine" in T2 to her unconvincing rock-chick alter-ego. The twist in the tail murderer is obvious from the moment "Laura's" flashbacks begin. I was ill, I was stuck in bed, and this was the most watchable thing on TV last night. Shame on me, I had a book to read, and shame on the TV schedulers too.
Review of Separate Lives
