A sort of heterosexual sequel to Cruising. Not an actual sequel, only a sort of. Al Pacino, the New York cop who dolled himself up in black leather and haunted the gay bars in search of a serial killer, has now taken out a matching ad in New York Weekly to ensnare another one. (Suggesting the need for, if not a new TV series, a new NYPD special unit: Date Patrol.) As in Cruising, the cop gets overinvolved personally with the respective "scene," in particular with the walking embodiment of a Ripe Tomato (Ellen Barkin, in a leather bolero of an appropriate redness). The prime point of interest in the movie, the single point that innately separates it from the faceless mob of cop stories, would clearly be the assorted pangs and perils of romance through the Classifieds. And this in truth does generate a few minutes of actual interest, although no time is spent combing through the responding mail, and we only get to meet two respondees before Barkin oozes across the table top. It will not violate any rules of criticism and give away "too much," to say that the policeman's deepening involvement with this mystery woman is not well enough developed (her seven-year-old daughter is glimpsed only once, sound asleep; her mother, the admirable Jacqueline Brookes, is allowed only two lines) for the woman to be interesting as anything other than the murderer. To say so is, however, to divulge the fatal flaw of the movie. With John Goodman; directed by Harold Becker. (1989) — Duncan Shepherd
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