Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: SATURDAY, February 11, 1995 TAG: 9502140021
SECTION: EXTRA PAGE: 12 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: KATHERINE REED STAFF WRITER
DATELINE: LENGTH: Medium
Bridget lives with her husband Clay in a slightly seedy New York apartment that falls far short of what she aspires to for herself. So she talks Clay into selling a huge quantity of pharmaceutical cocaine, then makes off with the several hundred thousand dollars Clay has risked life and limb to "earn."
She stops in a little town called Beston to make it harder for Clay to track her down. There, she meets a gullible, slightly desperate guy named Mike, turns him into her sex slave and bides her time, plotting the perfect way to use Mike to throw Clay off her trail forever.
Is Bridget a nice person?
Absolutely not. Bridget, played by Linda Fiorentino (``The Moderns" and ``After Hours") makes Kathleen Turner in "Body Heat" look like Donna Reed. Bridget is a viper, a buster of things spherical (and that's when she's in a GOOD mood), one of the most terrifying femmes fatales in cinematic history.
It's been done - it's true. The femme fatale is an old dame. She lights a cigarette, lets the smoke curl up slowly toward her heavy-lidded eyes and makes psychological mincemeat out of whatever poor schmuck has had the bad luck to cross her path. Clay, played with tremendous humor by Bill Pullman (Meg Ryan's nerdy, allergic fiance in "Sleepless in Seattle"), is practically no match for her, and Mike (Peter Berg), is none whatsoever.
What makes Fiorentino's Bridget different is her wit and her complete self-possession. Even the Turner character in "Body Heat" lets go that one, enigmatic sigh when she's finally got what she supposedly wanted and is sipping a rum drink on a beautiful beach somewhere when it's all over. Is she really happy?
There is not a hint of ambivalence in Bridget. (``Anybody checked you for a heartbeat lately?'' her attorney, Frank [J.T. Walsh], asks her.) And that could be boring, except that this movie was directed by John Dahl, who brought us the interesting, quirky "Red Rock West."
Dahl knows his femmes fatales and his film noir. From the jazz - heavy on the snare - in the background to the cock-eyed camera angles, "The Last Seduction" has all the right stuff. And it's tighter than "Red Rock West," although certain plot devices are handled with something less than subtlety.
And the script, by newcomer Steve Barancik, lets Dahl deal with a theme he likes, if "Red Rock West" is any clue. It's what hits you when big-city Bridget strides spikily into Beston's only bar and renders the entire clientele speechless by ordering a Manhattan - no please, no thank-you - in a voice dripping with boredom and condescension.
It's hard to say how male filmgoers will react to Fiorentino's Bridget. Women, oddly enough, may experience her like a guilty pleasure, even as almost cathartic. She is so unremittingly, unapologetically bad - so completely in it for herself - that she's fun to watch. That cigarette, stubbed out in an apple pie bearing a sticky-note that says "Love, Grandma." That board full of nails placed daintily under a tire.
A role model, no. But Bridget is a wonder, nonetheless, and she makes "The Last Seduction" something to see.
The Last Seduction
***
An October Films release, showing at the Grandin Theatre. Rated R for sexually explicit material and profanity. 100 mins.
by CNB