Before writer Dean Rogers and master director Anthony Spinelli reached their peak (with such hits as TALK DIRTY TO ME and SEXWORLD) they cut their filmmaking teeth on NIGHT CALLER, worth seeing but far from a complete success.
It's presented as a case history of a pervert, Robert (David Book), a guy who we discover is fully capable of carrying sex acts to their fruition (read: money shot), but gets off on harassing women with obscene phone calls.
We later learn, tantalizingly, that he's harbored incestuous feelings for both his sister and his mother. This is a prime example of where Rogers and Spinelli erred: instead of giving us incest sex scenes or at least a full tease build-up to same, we get shots of two incredibly beautiful actresses portraying sis & mom, coming on to the hero, but that's all, folks -they're wasted in fleeting, unsatisfying flashback cameos.
Bob is fixated on his next door neighbor Carol, a beautiful redhead in the Cyndee Summers vein, ably played by Monique Starr, whose extremely brief acting career is inexplicable -she deserved more roles. Bob sees her making love to hubby Ken Scudder one night and begins harassing her by phone soon after.
SPOILERS ALERT:
A fascinating diversion occurs when Bob calls blond friend Helen, whose husky voice only hints at what's to come. Helen's framed on the phone in tight closeup, but after she hangs up we find that she's actually a long-haired man, having sex with a woman.
Bob has sex with a plain-looking but busty prostitute, an excellent turn by Rita Zisk. Later Bob's friend, the lovely Joan Devlon, fixes him up in threesome with another prostitute, Valerie Franklin, her frequent co-star in quality films like LACEY BODINE. Both of these sex-with-hooker scenes are arousing and very well directed.
Where Spinelli & Rogers really stumble is on the crucial central relationship developing between story's heavy Bob and damsel-in-distress Carol. He very unconvincingly inveigles his way into her life, at first through feigned car trouble blocking her driveway and then at lunch volunteering (successfully) to visit her home to help deal with future obscene phone calls.
Even for a porn film, let alone a quality mainstream thriller, the script suddenly relies on Carol being a complete idiot in order to keep the pot & plot boiling. She doesn't recognize Bob's strange accent (he later identifies himself vaguely as "from the Middle East") even though it exactly matches the horrific caller's voice that's been harassing her, and she lets him ingratiate his way into her house with ridiculous ease. Makes no sense, especially since she's in a tizzy about the harasser!
Once inside her home (hubby's away on business for a couple of days), he rapes her, and this being porn she likes it. Their sex scene betrays the readiness (much to their detriment) of porn films to pander to the audience, rather than lead the viewer to a "great film" experience. The fans clearly will get vicarious thrills out of Bob raping Carol, but just having him grab her, put his hand over her mouth and announce "I don't want to hurt you" fails to take the place of making the scene real. She acquiesces, grimaces a lot, and then shows enjoyment. Almost enough to put this pretty-good movie completely in the loss column, for me.
Bob leaving for home passes arriving hubby Scudder on the way out, and feature ends with a dumb coda of him back on the phone preying on another hapless woman as we hear (cheaply) the police arrive pounding on his door. Bob keeps stalling them, entranced with his obscenities, cueing a too-cute freeze frame finish when he yells out "Can you wait just a minute, I'm on the phone!".
Apart from the script shortcomings noted above, NIGHT CALLER generates good suspense and is very well-acted and directed. Star David Book is a casting flaw in my opinion -he closely resembles John Seeman (who often worked with the other personages here), but is not as forceful a screen presence. This movie needed a top-notch actor to put it over.
It's presented as a case history of a pervert, Robert (David Book), a guy who we discover is fully capable of carrying sex acts to their fruition (read: money shot), but gets off on harassing women with obscene phone calls.
We later learn, tantalizingly, that he's harbored incestuous feelings for both his sister and his mother. This is a prime example of where Rogers and Spinelli erred: instead of giving us incest sex scenes or at least a full tease build-up to same, we get shots of two incredibly beautiful actresses portraying sis & mom, coming on to the hero, but that's all, folks -they're wasted in fleeting, unsatisfying flashback cameos.
Bob is fixated on his next door neighbor Carol, a beautiful redhead in the Cyndee Summers vein, ably played by Monique Starr, whose extremely brief acting career is inexplicable -she deserved more roles. Bob sees her making love to hubby Ken Scudder one night and begins harassing her by phone soon after.
SPOILERS ALERT:
A fascinating diversion occurs when Bob calls blond friend Helen, whose husky voice only hints at what's to come. Helen's framed on the phone in tight closeup, but after she hangs up we find that she's actually a long-haired man, having sex with a woman.
Bob has sex with a plain-looking but busty prostitute, an excellent turn by Rita Zisk. Later Bob's friend, the lovely Joan Devlon, fixes him up in threesome with another prostitute, Valerie Franklin, her frequent co-star in quality films like LACEY BODINE. Both of these sex-with-hooker scenes are arousing and very well directed.
Where Spinelli & Rogers really stumble is on the crucial central relationship developing between story's heavy Bob and damsel-in-distress Carol. He very unconvincingly inveigles his way into her life, at first through feigned car trouble blocking her driveway and then at lunch volunteering (successfully) to visit her home to help deal with future obscene phone calls.
Even for a porn film, let alone a quality mainstream thriller, the script suddenly relies on Carol being a complete idiot in order to keep the pot & plot boiling. She doesn't recognize Bob's strange accent (he later identifies himself vaguely as "from the Middle East") even though it exactly matches the horrific caller's voice that's been harassing her, and she lets him ingratiate his way into her house with ridiculous ease. Makes no sense, especially since she's in a tizzy about the harasser!
Once inside her home (hubby's away on business for a couple of days), he rapes her, and this being porn she likes it. Their sex scene betrays the readiness (much to their detriment) of porn films to pander to the audience, rather than lead the viewer to a "great film" experience. The fans clearly will get vicarious thrills out of Bob raping Carol, but just having him grab her, put his hand over her mouth and announce "I don't want to hurt you" fails to take the place of making the scene real. She acquiesces, grimaces a lot, and then shows enjoyment. Almost enough to put this pretty-good movie completely in the loss column, for me.
Bob leaving for home passes arriving hubby Scudder on the way out, and feature ends with a dumb coda of him back on the phone preying on another hapless woman as we hear (cheaply) the police arrive pounding on his door. Bob keeps stalling them, entranced with his obscenities, cueing a too-cute freeze frame finish when he yells out "Can you wait just a minute, I'm on the phone!".
Apart from the script shortcomings noted above, NIGHT CALLER generates good suspense and is very well-acted and directed. Star David Book is a casting flaw in my opinion -he closely resembles John Seeman (who often worked with the other personages here), but is not as forceful a screen presence. This movie needed a top-notch actor to put it over.