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.

This gobstoppingly stupid film is a monument to the awful business that is filmmaking. It is vulgar, pretentious, preposterous, leaden, ridiculous and makes you wonder why anyone would want to get into the movies.

Scott Bruin (Jeff Lester) is a fashion photographer who is plagued by horrible dreams of killing the same woman every night. Then that woman shows up at his door and they fall in lust. They have a lot of sex and after watching this film for about an hour and a half, you suddenly discover it's really a science-fiction story. I usually go more into depth on the plot of a movie, to give you a real sense of what it's like. In this case, however, it would just be a waste of my time and yours.

In that spirit, let me just briefly touch on what's wrong with The Cold of the Night.

1. Jeff Lester is a fairly good looking guy, but the minute he opens his mouth he becomes completely unappealing. He's supposed to be the hero, but he comes off like the dick that the hero is supposed to overcome at the end of the movie. Adrianne Sachs, who plays the woman from Scott's dreams, is not at all attractive. She has a couple of nice fake breasts and we do get to see a lot of them, but Shannon Tweed outshines her by a mile in a much smaller role. Tweed even gets naked for a sex scene, though we only get to see one of her boobs. How did Lester and Sachs ever get these lead roles? Were they both having sex with the producer? How could they not tell after the first day of shooting that Marc Singer or David Soul or almost any other guy in the cast would have been better than Lester? How can you have Shannon Tweed on the set and not notice how much prettier she is than Sachs? Heck, even middle-aged Tipi Hedren would have been a better choice.

2. The script is something a middle schooler would have come up with after huffing glue during recess. It starts out trying to be a psychological thriller, but succeeds only in eliciting laughter. Then it morphs into a softcore romance but while the nudity is plentiful, it has all the arousal of a National Geographic video on yaks humping. It finally tries to finish off as an action flick, yet Old Order Amish would consider these action scenes boring. I didn't even try and keep track of all the inconsistencies and illogic in the story because I was afraid I'd start bleeding out of my eyes.

3. This movie is filled with things that are just head-turningly odd. A glowing water bed! The use of marbles as a sex toy! Scott's preoccupation with pizza! An Oedipal reference! The clapper! The world's most inappropriate lunch with a girl's mother! David Soul drinking coffee! Women who don't mind being involuntarily choked during sex! And whatever the hell Marc Singer's doing in this piece of crap! He was the Beastmaster, for pity's sake!

Shannon Tweed and Marc Singer have made this exact sort of film many times in their careers. Some of them were even pretty good for trashy sex and violence tales. They only have bit roles in The Cold of the Night and this film is pretty bad, even by the low standards of the trashy sex and violence genre.

You have been warned.

This film is not all that great (Spoilers coming). Normally, erotic thrillers are right up my street but this one failed. If you can believe that someone can do surgery on your teeth without you realising, then all well and good, but really? Mind you, Jeff Lester's acting ability seems only to be staring open-mouthed into the distance or at his hands. Talking of acting, Tippi Hedren makes a small appearance and there is an amusing reference to The Birds but why she chose to appear in this dross is a moot point.

The story by the way is that photographer Scott Bruin (Jeff Lester) is having nightmares in which he kills a woman (Adrianne Sachs) he has never met. When said woman turns up at his studio things start to get weird and this being an erotic thriller of course, they embark on an affair. It turns out that Scott has been the subject of an experiment in mind control run by Ken Strom (Marc Singer, who has also done better work than this).

As for the eye candy, there are couple of scenes with models strutting their stuff and Shannon Tweed does a nude scene but not for long enough in my opinion. Adrianne Sachs is great in her nude scene but are glass marbles really the ultimate sex toy? That raised a laugh as well as the waterbed with an internal light - how crass is that? The film may be worth watching for the beautiful women but that is about all.