![[box cover]](../../reviewimgs/c/colorofnight.jpg)
Color of Night
Bruce Willis stars in this ludicrous-yet-fascinating, psycho-thriller as a troubled, color-blind shrink who fears one of his oddball patients might be a murderer. Color of Night is as bizarre as they come. Its dramatic scenes put the hyper in hyperbole, its dialogue ranges from stilted to awful, and the music veers from diabolical harpsichord to over-romantic pop themes, the latter accompanying several extended soft-core sex scenes between Willis and Jane March. Cult director Richard Rush presents all this weirdness in a truly original, captivating, and at times hilariously random visual style. It was Rush's first film in 14 years after he mysteriously disappeared following his critical success with the idiosyncratic The Stunt Man in 1980, and did little to revive his career. It also did little for Willis' box-office clout, although the actor took several risks, crying three times in the first hour, in addition to exposing glimpses of his manhood in this director's cut ("15 extra steamy minutes!"), neither of which may have been high on your list of things to see. The whole cast performs ably, given their strange characters and obvious direction to push them over the top. This is what Stanley Kubrick might have conjured up had he been employed to make an original film for the USA Network. With Rubén Blades, Lesley Ann Warren, Scott Bakula, Brad Dourif, Lance Henriksen, and Kevin J. O'Connor. A very, very guilty pleasure, in the loosest sense of the term. Razzie Award winner for worst picture of 1994. Presented in 1.85:1 widescreen and 2.0 Dolby Surround. Trailers, keep case.
—Gregory P. Dorr
