Someone wrote a review with the conclusion that this was terrible in every way, and of course it is, but there is more to it than that. First of all, Bryan Brown is like an Australian Michael Caine, and this would have been a superb part for Michael Caine, as he would have added even more subtility like food for afterhought to it. His case is precarious indeed, as he, although a terribly clever attourney and expert on any way of crime, fails to have learred there is no perfect crime. Still he plans it and thinks he will get away with it, which makes him nothing less than a goof. But that's the intrigue.
There are some women around him, his wife for one, a terrible nightmare of a shrew, and then that secretary, who is only good for sex and carrying around a dark secret to add a bitter aftertaste and aftermath when the time comes, and then there is that terribly vulgar Victoria, whom you learn to hate as much as he does from the beginning, who just wants to eat him up and does it.
It's a noir, but actually a dark humour noir, the twist to the tale is overwhelming in its marvellous way of turning everything the other way and upside down and topsy-turvy, so that the candidates for his murder list tend to multiply for good reasons, resulting in more murders than anyone had bargained for with some serious gunfire as well. You can't have everything, which Bryan Brown evidently thought he could and therefore made a go for it - and gained much more than he ever could have dreamt of, but only for worse, for no good at all, and that's the karmic lesson of this loathsome morality of the wrong people all doing the wrong things.
