In the Cold of the Night

This one's a hot, hot mess. There's no denying that much of the cinematography is well done and there are some visually compelling moments.

But truly, this is a terrible movie. The dialogue/script is overblown and comical. I'm a big fan of trash cinema but I'm really hard pressed to recall a movie that took itself so seriously but was so cliched and vacuous as this is.

The acting veers wildly between wooden and dinner theater histrionics and there are zero sympathetic characters in it.

Amusing and there are some stupefyingly bad moments of dialogue that will have you howling with laughter. The positive reviews are really difficult to comprehend.

I only have one thing to say about this movie, and that is that the guy sleeps on a water bed with a fluorescent light *inside* the mattress!

Say what you will about the rest of the film, that alone is one of the dumbest things I have ever seen. No wonder the guy has nightmares.

Full Synopsis Cast & Crew Related Movies In the Cold of the Night is an above-average psychological thriller, directed with superb visual style by Nico Mastorakis, but plagued by an uneven, derivative plot. Photographer Scott Bruin (Jeff Lester) is very successful but begins to have frightening visions of himself murdering a beautiful woman. When he meets the woman in those dreams, Kimberly (Adrienne Sachs), they begin a highly charged romance. When Scott becomes suspicious, he finds out information which leads to a "surprise" ending. In the Cold of the Night generated a great deal of controversy when it was originally released. Despite the weak plot, the extraordinary visual style of Mastorakis, and the haunting cinematography make In the Cold of the Night a treat for fans of psychological thrillers or anyone who appreciates technique and style in filmmaking. ~ Linda Rasmussen, Rovi

This is a slick erotic thriller with an interesting plot, lengthy sex scenes that will appeal to both men and women, and a few amusing references to Brian De Palma and Hitchcock's "The Birds". Although it bogs down a little in the middle, and has some atrocious dialogue, it is still one of Mastorakis' best efforts (out of the handful I've seen). And it would perhaps be even better if the two main actresses had switched roles, with Shannon Tweed being the mysterious femme fatale instead, and Adrienne Sachs getting the thankless supporting part. (**1/2)

A weirdly ridiculous, atmospheric late-night erotic thriller aping Brian De Palma (who's even mentioned by name?!), but even more so campy and convoluted (I know, how's that even possible?!). Nico Mastorakis' trashy conspiracy laced plot involves realistic nightmares of recurring themes/images, virtual reality murder visions, laserdiscs and a mysterious dream woman (Adrianne Sachs). It really does take on an outlandish turn in the last half-hour when Marc Singer makes himself known, letting us into the bigger scheme of things after a languidly teasing midsection. Doesn't make much sense, but it does enliven the plot in-spite of its lack of high-stake thrills favouring light weight mystery shades, hallucinogenic befuddlement and plenty of night time mist.

Visually it's lit and well-shot. Very 80s in style. Plastered with vibrant colours, sometimes neon and spacious white/cream decors. Right down to the glowing waterbed mattress. It simply pops. Cue in the sultry, smooth sax. And talking about bold and sexy, there's a minor part for Shannon Tweed. I wish she had been picked for the lead actress role, but I can see why Mastorakis went with the exotic Sachs. However I wasn't entirely feeling her spotty performance. Her delivery felt more forced than sincere compared to everyone else. Then there's the beefy Brian Thompson who shows up every once and awhile to provide some helpful advice, when he's not working out or shoving food into his mouth. Lastly there's the very odd, if rather self-aware cameo by Tippi Hedren.

I know people have their kinks. And no, I'm not talking about the protagonist's love for pineapple pizza. But actually the steamy sex scene involving an orgasm brought upon by marbles being poured onto Sachs' breasts. Oh the ecstasy! Forget about the candle wax, or massage oil fellas, marbles should do the trick.