The hoo-hah shoutiness that is now Al Pacino’s default setting got its first outing in this Harold Becker drama.
It’s a gripping and steamy affair that sends Pacino’s grizzled cop on the trail of a lonely hearts serial killer who may or may not be sensuous single mom Ellen Barkin.
Their sex scenes genuinely sizzle in a thriller that’s aged surprisingly well considering a vinyl record and a newspaper play a vital role (and DNA doesn’t).
And if you do happen to see the ending coming, that’s only because it’s been so repeatedly imitated in the two decades since.
