When a client turns up dead from an overdose of designer drugs, psychologist/sex therapist Rebecca goes under investigation by detective Nick Sharkey. She's got a sleaze-ball husband who's blackmailing her patients and having an affair with her assistant. She's got an ex-hooker for a surrogate who turns out to be the mainplot's plant. She's got a lot of two-way mirrors so she can "monitor" the action. And she's got a lot of nude scenes with tilted camera angles, slo-mo panning, and colored lights. Fortunately, she's the Tweedster, so she's pretty easy on the eyes.
It seems like a perfect set-up for an erotic thriller. But, like most of them, it quickly debilitates into cliche and melodrama. Hudson almost saves it with his portrayal of the Sharkman. He's rough and tumbled-looking like Bogie, and carries a Philip Marlowe soft spot. Natch, he falls like a skydiver for his prime suspect. The plot seems to be just staging for the ample nude scenes which could definitely use an IV of Erotica. But since the characters don't have any depth anyway, the depicted passion is merely air bubbles in the injection.
It seems like a perfect set-up for an erotic thriller. But, like most of them, it quickly debilitates into cliche and melodrama. Hudson almost saves it with his portrayal of the Sharkman. He's rough and tumbled-looking like Bogie, and carries a Philip Marlowe soft spot. Natch, he falls like a skydiver for his prime suspect. The plot seems to be just staging for the ample nude scenes which could definitely use an IV of Erotica. But since the characters don't have any depth anyway, the depicted passion is merely air bubbles in the injection.