Night Fire

  • 1994
  • Movie
  • NR
  • Erotic, Thriller

Producers of R-rated erotica are fortunate to have Shannon Tweed's number on their Rolodexes. Even when, as here, the stag-movie material is worn out, and the cinematic treatment is apathetic, Tweed redeems the viewing experience. She doesn't do bimbos; her characters are smart as well as sexy. Wealthy businesswoman Lydia (Shannon Tweed) is having trouble...read more

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Producers of R-rated erotica are fortunate to have Shannon Tweed's number on their Rolodexes. Even when, as here, the stag-movie material is worn out, and the cinematic treatment is apathetic, Tweed redeems the viewing experience. She doesn't do bimbos; her characters are smart as well as

sexy.

Wealthy businesswoman Lydia (Shannon Tweed) is having trouble juggling career and marriage; her libidinous husband Barry (John Laughlin) demands both money and constant sexual attention. Even when Barry wheedles a weekend alone at their remote home, breadwinner Lydia can't snap out of her work

addiction. Is that the reason Barry pulls all the phones out of the walls, thus cutting them off from the outside world?

Into this isolated trouble-spot come drifters Cal (Martin Hewitt) and Gwen (Rochelle Swanson), who claim their car has broken down. Before long, Cal and Gwen's open necking turns raunchy, and Barry offends Lydia by suggesting that they watch the other couple having sex; she's even more furious

when Barry reveals that he hired these free spirits to spice up their deteriorating marriage. But Lydia relents, and a round of partner-swapping transpires. Soon, however, she discovers that Barry's scheming is more sinister than she'd thought: he intends to kill her and pin the murder on Cal and

Gwen. Barry terrorizes Lydia all over the property, but the other two come to her rescue. As Barry confidently prepares to run over a powerless Lydia with his car, Gwen fires a gun into his gas tank. Resentful Barry burns up for the last time.

What NIGHT FIRE adds up to is SORRY WRONG NUMBER in the nude or MIDNIGHT LACE without the Irene wardrobe--once again, a trusting wife is victimized by her husband. The moral of these soap opera-thriller hybrids is a bleak one for rich neurotic wives everywhere: no man will ever want you for

anything but your stock portfolio. There's precious little suspense here; unfortunately, from NIGHT FIRE's opening scene, all signs point to the culpable hubby. Given that liability, does NIGHT FIRE create tension from the interaction of two lustful couples in one house? No. Does the film grip us

by presenting Lydia's emerging sexual abandon as the surest route to her victimization? No. Instead, the film details the S&M aspects of the sex games with considerable, but ultimately tiresome, relish.

Despite a good deal of soulful moaning from attractively undraped couples, NIGHT FIRE doesn't make the grade as a sexual spur for viewers. Little chemistry is evidenced by the players, and kinky sex re-enacted colorlessly does not an erotic thriller make. What NIGHT FIRE does offer is Shannon

Tweed, imperturbably beautiful, albeit a bit too shrewd to come across as any sexist pig's patsy. That's a misfortune for the credibility of the narrative, but not for wolf-whistling viewers. (Extreme profanity, graphic violence, extensive nudity.)

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  • Released: 1994
  • Rating: NR
  • Review: Producers of R-rated erotica are fortunate to have Shannon Tweed's number on their Rolodexes. Even when, as here, the stag-movie material is worn out, and the cinematic treatment is apathetic, Tweed redeems the viewing experience. She doesn't do bimbos; he… (more)

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