Seduction, The (1982) d. David Schmoeller (USA)
This overheated tale of an obsessed fan (Andrew Stevens) stalking the local bombshell news anchorwoman (Morgan Fairchild, at her plastic, soft-porn best) has little to recommend it in terms of actual tension or horror. But it is a certifiable hoot to watch and certainly fits the bill as a late-night guilty pleasure...if one were so given to feel guilty about such things, which, well, I'm not, so I don't.
The film opens with Stevens spying on Fairchild swimming nude in her pool, and the increasingly unwelcome phone calls, flowers, candy, and visits to her house follow from there.
As Fairchild’s journalist lover, Michael Sarrazin marks the time bulging his eyes and declaring “I’m going to kill him!” every chance he gets, right up until he gets himself offed in a hot tub. When the cops can’t do anything, Fairchild goes commando, blasting away at Stevens with a shotgun and the whole thing ends in a whirling dervish revenge fantasy.
A sudsy, terribly written, horribly acted time capsule of the early ’80s era of blow-drying and huge sunglasses. Amid the froth, however, there is one inspired scene where Stevens sneaks a dark message onto the news teleprompter. Fairchild’s hysterical (in every sense of the word) on-air breakdown is an unqualified highlight.
After the film’s failure, writer/director Schmoeller returned to Charles Band’s Empire Pictures four years later to helm the Klaus Kinski vehicle Crawlspace, followed by the first in the long-running Puppet Master series in 1989.
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| I mean, come on, who wouldn't want to stalk me? |