Night Rhythms

  • 1992
  • Movie
  • NR
  • Crime, Erotic, Mystery

Glossily produced by Andrew Garroni, NIGHT RHYTHMS is a lousy murder mystery, but--in the "unrated" video version--as X-rated voyeur fodder it's ok, especially for those too timid or self-deluding to rent the cheesily boxed but honest hardcore cassettes. This ludicrously sexed-up production features Martin Hewitt as Nick West, a throaty, late-night KHPY...read more

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Glossily produced by Andrew Garroni, NIGHT RHYTHMS is a lousy murder mystery, but--in the "unrated" video version--as X-rated voyeur fodder it's ok, especially for those too timid or self-deluding to rent the cheesily boxed but honest hardcore cassettes.

This ludicrously sexed-up production features Martin Hewitt as Nick West, a throaty, late-night KHPY radio talk-show host who caters, sometimes off the air as well, to his callers, all beautiful but lonely or frustrated women, to the bemusement of his program helper and call screener Bridget

Masters (Delia Sheppard). When troubled, habitual caller Honey (Tracy Tweed) shows up in person, Nick dismisses Bridget and the pair have sex in the booth, the sounds of which are sent out over the air (an added turn-on for Honey). Approaching orgasm, Honey's moans turn to screams, and Nick,

knocked unconscious, wakes up to find her dead beside him.

Nick flees to his local hangout, a bar run by Cinnamon (Deborah Driggs), who puts him up at her apartment as the cops, led by Detective Jackson (Sam Jones), search for him. Since, in her calls to Nick, Honey's main concern was breaking up with her jealous boyfriend, for whom she also worked as an

exotic dancer at the plush Nirvana Club, Nick and Cinnamon, who are soon soulfully in love, go after him as the chief suspect: Vincent Machelli (David Carradine), who also dabbles in drugs, along with his henchman Joseph (Vincent Curto). But Machelli is soon accidentally killed by Nick, so he

works through the list of suspects with the help of friends and fans, all the females of which, including Kit (Jamie Stafford), Lila (Patrice Leal) and Linda (Julie Strain), he winds up in bed with, before settling on Bridget, who's taken over his radio spot--and was a jealous lover of Honey, who

dumped her. With Cinnamon prodding her by telephone, Nick traps Bridget into confessing to Honey's murder on-air.

Cued by its skin magazine-ish femme character names (Honey, Cinnamon et al.), NIGHT RHYTHMS sets off immediately into male fantasy-land, as Nick's nightly blatantly X-rated spiel--he in essence knowingly provides masturbatory images for his women callers--is more 900-number graphic than is

allowable on KHYP's 108.9 FM bandwidth. Alan Gries and Robyn Sullivent's screenplay is hard put to provide a coherent plot, which, however deficient, is quickly lost amid the lushly filmed sex scenes; it's actually fairly extraneous in such fare, anyway. The dialogue is mostly risible, as is

Nick's somewhat quaint soul-searching after he's found his ideal mate.

Director Alexander Gregory Hippolyte specializes in these sexathons (SECRET GAMES and CARNAL CRIMES, both starring Hewitt), and he's clearly out of his element whenever the two or three characters in any given scene aren't in the sack together. Fashionably stubbled, the handsome Hewitt (ENDLESS

LOVE) has also been specializing in sexy videos lately, and he has his sensitive-eyed, God's-gift-to-women role down pat. The interchangeable women all look cut from the same cloth: serious haired, pneumatically bounteous, Frederick's-attired lookers (Sheppard and Strain are former Penthouse pets;

Driggs, the heroine of last year's TOTAL EXPOSURE, was a Playboy centerfold). David Carradine, who should know better (along with Sam Jones), seems to be having fun as the flinty-eyed villainous strip-joint owner. (Violence, profanity, excessive nudity, sexual situations.)

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  • Released: 1992
  • Rating: NR
  • Review: Glossily produced by Andrew Garroni, NIGHT RHYTHMS is a lousy murder mystery, but--in the "unrated" video version--as X-rated voyeur fodder it's ok, especially for those too timid or self-deluding to rent the cheesily boxed but honest hardcore cassettes.… (more)

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