A campy dark thriller that had no idea that it was going to be campy has Jane Seymour cast against type playing that rarest of women, a female serial killer. The first ten minutes of the film shows Seymour happily wed and later on, the groom obviously dead. The bride is gone lickity split, having poisoned his favorite rare brandy, and while the investigators have a vague description, they have nothing else to go on because she's cleaned everything up.
Obviously not after just the men's estates, it's clear that Seymour has had mental disturbances because of childhood abuse and longs to keep love alive and kills to stop it from dying. Never read anything like this in psychology books. She sets her sights on widowed bookstore chain owner Barry Bostwick, but will she manage to get away with murder again, especially with clinging sister-in-law Frances Fisher and still grieving son Chad Allen.
The performances are satisfying, but I found so many plotholes that I couldn't believe what I was watching. Yet as poor as the script is, it's a fascinating travesty of a TV thriller, and it's hard to believe that she screws up a lot yet continues to get away with it.
Had this been played as a psychological sexual thriller like "Body Double", "Fatal Attraction" and "Basic Instinct", it could be more thrilling, but the gentility of the mood really causes the biggest collateral damage and affects the structure of what the film's focus should have been. Seymour also wears a black helmet like wig that looks like Meryl Streep's "A Cry in the Dark" that has been pounded for hours with an iron.
Obviously not after just the men's estates, it's clear that Seymour has had mental disturbances because of childhood abuse and longs to keep love alive and kills to stop it from dying. Never read anything like this in psychology books. She sets her sights on widowed bookstore chain owner Barry Bostwick, but will she manage to get away with murder again, especially with clinging sister-in-law Frances Fisher and still grieving son Chad Allen.
The performances are satisfying, but I found so many plotholes that I couldn't believe what I was watching. Yet as poor as the script is, it's a fascinating travesty of a TV thriller, and it's hard to believe that she screws up a lot yet continues to get away with it.
Had this been played as a psychological sexual thriller like "Body Double", "Fatal Attraction" and "Basic Instinct", it could be more thrilling, but the gentility of the mood really causes the biggest collateral damage and affects the structure of what the film's focus should have been. Seymour also wears a black helmet like wig that looks like Meryl Streep's "A Cry in the Dark" that has been pounded for hours with an iron.