Let's face it, Shannon Tweed is not a great (or even necessarily a good) actress. The title says it all: It's another example of Tweed's stock in trade: The grade-C erotic thriller in which she packs a piece---always a big phallic firearm---and then gets the hots for another kind of piece, and eventually takes her clothes off. Everything else is just an attention-getting device to keep you watching between the sex scenes. Even if you cheerfully accept these limitations, this turkey is a cynical cheat on the viewer. Tweed was 43 when she made this movie, and like Renee Russo, she has a fabulous body for her age, but it is still a fabulous 43-year-old body. So if you're an over-40 former Playmate who insists on making movies with nude sex scenes, either be honest, like Helen Mirren, and do them yourself or quit the business. Don't use a body double, which she so blatantly does in this flick. If the number of porn sites on the Web featuring over-35 "hotties" is any indication, there's a market for films with middle-aged women who get naked.
The bad guy, John Enos, has one of the least photogenic screen personas I've ever seen. He elicits no cinematic interest whatsoever and he and Tweed have essentially no on-screen chemistry. They are just going through the motions. Why anyone would think the Tweed character would develop an itchy-koo for him is beyond me, except that Enos, although not really that similar in features to Tweed's squeeze Gene Simmons, somewhat resembles him in physique and complexion. Maybe that's why Tweed chose Enos. Whether he resembles Simmons in other ways is something I have no idea about. (Let's not even get into Gene Simmons's public persona and what it says about Tweed's taste in men that she has been with him for years.) And it's somehow oddly appropriate, considering this movie, that in the IMDb photo galleries, Enos is seen accompanied by Traci Lords.
This flick is strictly desperation time.
