There are some bumpy moments in the storytelling, but this is a decent, not-terrible entry in the 1980s edgy erotic thriller sweepstakes. It’s better than stepping on a tack. What makes it interesting is that the hero and the villain are both women and director Bob Rafelson doesn’t make a big deal about it. It’s a simple matter of fact. Theresa Russell is a serial husband-killer who commits several perfect crimes changing her identity, marrying rich men, poisoning them shortly after the wedding and then disappearing with their millions under the guise of a grieving widow who needs to travel the world for an indefinite time to get over the pain. Meanwhile, the moment the grave is filled she’s instantly on the hunt for her next victim. The only person on planet Earth who smells a rat here is Debra Winger, a low-ranker in the US Department of Justice. Her bosses don’t believe her, but not because of sexism. They don’t believe her because this is the 80s and every cop and federal agent is required to have a combative relationship with their superiors. Loose cannons were as popular at the time as hairspray and pink blazers.
SO, Winger has to conduct her investigation independently and it ends up taking her to Hawaii where she connives her way into a pseudo friendship with Russell. While Rafelson and great cinematographer Conrad Hall (this is Hall’s return to film work after a ten-year break) sneak in lush views of the tropical greenery and the glitter of wealthy peoples’ swimming pools, an intriguing cat-and-mouse game develops between the two leads. Both women appear to figure each other out early on, but neither will play their hand. Winger still has el zilcho in the way of evidence while Russell seems relieved that she finally has someone to talk to about her experiences, even if she has to do it very carefully. It makes up the best parts of the movie even if Rafelson zig-zags on the juicy lesbian subtext (maybe he was forced to softball it).
Theresa Russell does a good job with her part as a doomed noir soul, a woman on a downward spiral even as her fortunes rise, but she gets robbed of the chance to explore her character’s most delicious twist. As someone who marries for money, and eventual murder, she can’t actually fall in love with any of her husbands. She also can’t have a partner, co-conspirator or even a real friend because that would compromise her very intricate plans. She’s brutally lonely. Maybe the ONLY person with whom she can fall in love is the one who outsmarts her, even if it’s a female federal agent—and another driven, lonely woman—who’s out to bust her.
This is a flawed film redeemed by what’s hidden in its shadows.