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Ross MacDonald detective yarn becomes above-average TV-made vehicle for Farrah Fawcett, playing lawyer from the Los Angeles Public Defenders office who is assigned an assembly-line case of a naive nurse arrested for trafficking stolen goods that quickly turns into a complicated web of murder, kidnapping, and another out of work actor in Hollywood gone wrong. Modern-day pulp amusingly retains all the standard noir clichés (saxophones on the soundtrack, stern yet wistful voice-over at the beginning and end, a glove compartment full of old parking tickets, et al.). Fawcett is appealingly tough yet personable in the lead; A Martinez, as a cop who helps Farrah solve the case, is appropriately hunky but questionable as a credible love-interest (scowling throughout, he's more dangerous-seeming than romantic); Cliff DeYoung, never a strong actor, does all right as a judge. The film has some puzzling red herrings, an overly-complicated second-half--with too many fishy characters--yet the L.A. locations are well-captured, the direction tight, and the gritty script has some sharp dialogue.
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