5.9 | / 10 |
Users | 4.8 | |
Reviewer | 3.5 | |
Overall | 3.5 |
A millionaire is found dead of heart failure handcuffed to the bed with a home video tape of him and his lover. When cocaine is found in his system, and his will leaves $8 million to his lover, they arrest her on suspicion of murder.
Starring: Madonna, Willem Dafoe, Anne Archer, Julianne Moore, Joe MantegnaMystery | 100% |
Thriller | Insignificant |
Video codec: MPEG-4 AVC
Video resolution: 1080p
Aspect ratio: 1.85:1
Original aspect ratio: 1.85:1
English: DTS-HD Master Audio 2.0 (48kHz, 24-bit)
English SDH
25GB Blu-ray Disc
Single disc (1 BD)
Region A (locked)
Movie | 2.0 | |
Video | 3.5 | |
Audio | 4.5 | |
Extras | 3.0 | |
Overall | 3.5 |
The influence of European cinema crept into Hollywood during the 1980s, emerging in the form of the erotic thriller, which blended harsher elements of violence with softer bedroom appetites, giving audiences a sampling of chills and titillation. A good portion of these productions were built for the burgeoning VHS rental market and late night cable programming, giving viewers a chance to enjoy the product without the discomfort of sitting in a theater with strangers. Theatrical forays were rare, but they managed to burst forth on occasion, and certainly 1992’s “Basic Instinct” turned the subgenre into a potential gold mine, giving producers the foolhardy idea that they could replicate Paul Verhoeven’s specialized, Euro-stained madness. While 1993’s “Body of Evidence” isn’t a direct response to “Basic Instinct,” it certainly aspires to find the same audience, offering its own take on murder, kink, and suspicion with decidedly lower voltage. While helmer Uli Edel is no stranger to the ways of lustful behavior, previously guiding 1989’s “Last Exit to Brooklyn,” his vision isn’t as distinct for this studio assignment, unable to rise above the crummy raw materials he’s been handed and transform painful mediocrity into riveting cinema.
The AVC encoded image (1.85:1 aspect ratio) presentation delivers an older master of "Body of Evidence," but it's a serviceable viewing experience. There's softness inherent to the original cinematography, and it's communicated here without much in the way of bloom, while detail remains to a satisfactory degree. Sex scenes keep their macabre particulars, with bodily harm on view, along with more sensual sequences, maintaining skin textures on exposed bodies. Locations are reasonably dimensional, along with cavernous courtroom interiors. Costuming secures some fibrous and sheer qualities. Colors maintain their warmth, with candlelit encounters offering an amber glow to set the seductive scene. More forceful, red-drenched encounters are emphasized without bleed. Greenery is lively, and skintones are natural. Delineation is acceptable. Speckling is detected, along with mild judder and a few jumpy frames.
The 2.0 DTS-HD MA sound mix captures the thriller highs and lows of "Body of Evidence," offering a wider front stage presence that blends elements with care. Some hiss is detected, but clarity is generally strong, securing dialogue exchanges, which range from hushed moments of intimacy to fiery, echoed courtroom outbursts. Scoring selections are supportive, with appealing instrumentation and position, swelling when the mood calls for emphasis. Sound effects, including rain, are evocative, and moans of ecstasy and pain are pronounced to expectation.
When "Body of Evidence" was originally released, Madonna took a lot of heat for her dreadful performance, cast more for her willingness to be nude than her acting abilities. Truth is, nobody is good in the movie, with Dafoe straining himself to compete with kink, while supporting actors like Jurgen Prochnow, Frank Langella, Anne Archer, and Moore are terrible, unable to master Mirman's clumsy dialogue and smoke screen the film's obvious conclusion. "Body of Evidence" struggles with a basics in legal juggling and thespian chemistry, and Edel has nothing to offer it besides some lovely northwest vistas. It's a mess of intentions that plays like a project that was intended to be something else before "Basic Instinct" steamrolled into view, collecting headlines and a box office fortune. I'm sure it was never destined for greatness (where's Shannon Tweed and Andrew Stevens when you need them?), but there could've been something agreeably arresting with this combination of grabby acting and sensorial agony.
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