Nothing
is more seductive than temptation.
1998 - 91 minutes
“Welcome to the Blue Cat Club - where the drinks are stiff, the conversation is light and the
piano player carries a gun.” Denis
Leary and Aitana Sanchez-Gijon star with Terence Stamp as a brooding piano
player, a sexy singing partner he loves and a weather club patron they conspire
to seduce. With a double-edged plan
to cash in on the infidelity of their married victim, a scheming couple hopes to
get rich. But as desires heat up
the already sultry Florida resort town, seduction itself proves doubled-edged in
this neo-noir romantic thriller.
Shady hijinks in a rundown
Florida town suggest that those venerable noir conventions are looking shopworn.
Pianist and would-be songwriter Jack (Denis Leary) and torch singer Vicky (Aitana
Sanchez-Gijon) are a duo onstage and off, but Jack's alcoholism and too many
low-paying gigs in second-rate clubs have taken a toll on their relationship.
Now they're about to get booted out of the seedy Blue Cat Lounge, because Jack's
embittered between-song patter is just a bit dark for dinner, and the
boss has had it with his attitude. Enter Fred Moore (Terence Stamp), a
silver-haired millionaire who appreciates the standards and takes a shine to the
couple, especially Vicky. Also enter private eye Eddie (Michael Badalucco), an
old friend of Jack's who's working for Fred's jealous wife. He figures a couple
of compromising shots of Fred and Vicky together could enrich all their bank
accounts. For those confused by the story's psychological twists and turns, the
filmmakers thoughtfully dramatize scenes from Jack's novel in progress, the tale
of a poor schmo (Neal Huff) and the evil alterego (Danny Nucci) who ruins
everything for him. But rather than mirroring the movie's larger tale of greed
and betrayal, these interludes actively undermine it: Not only are they
painfully obvious, but Nucci's greasy psycho shtick is so hammy it's almost
unwatchable. Jack's monologues at the Blue Cat also trigger a series of
flashbacks -- or perhaps they're dramatizations; it's hard to tell -- and when
you put all those flashbacks/dramatizations/what-have-yous together they add up
to an awful lot of padding for a short movie with a pretty straightforward plot.
Stamp's gracious performance is a pleasure to watch, and the club scenes have a
certain rundown glamour, but in the end it all feels too familiar to be
exciting. -- Maitland McDonagh
