A stereotype ensemble is sent through a thriller scenario to a jazz soundtrack. So it's not a setting that should be taken entirely seriously; there are regular winks of the eye. The direction of the film remains in the dark for a long time, not just an allusion to film noir. The biggest one is clearly the femme fatale. What a one, Linda Fiorentino is the faintly curvaceous corporeal. A man should actually realise after a few moments that he'd better keep his hands off here, but well, we pants-brains. Mike is even a tad more stupid, falling in love means doom. The 100 minutes run smoothly, but there is a lack of memorable highlights, except of course for every devilish look, every snake-tongued word and every man-killing hip movement of the fantastic protagonist. Convincing, Mrs Fiorentino probably never got rid of the image again. The final witches' sabbath rounds off the game, but I don't think it's necessary to watch it again.
Review of The Last Seduction
