Color of Night

The killer may find his target, but Color of Night fails to hit the nail on the head by a frustrating margin.

I'm tempted to go ahead and explain just exactly how transparent -- and implausible -- this mystery is. But then I don't want to spoil it for people who are even worse than I am at this sort of thing. People like Forrest Gump.

Mundane sex scenes, a standard L.A. car chase and Bakula's outrageously gory death scene (which plays like an unintentional parody) are all part of the predictable script.

The plot gets so convoluted and farfetched that you still may be scratching your head after the denouement, but you probably won't be bored.

It's a psycho-erotic thriller with more twists and shocks than the rattlesnake which, at one point, leaps out at star Bruce Willis-from a location we won't describe. (It would spoil one of the several dozen surprises.)

Color of Night and North represent the nadir of Willis' plummeting film career. He can be a most engaging talent; his script selection of late has been awful.

This is so awful it can't be missed.

You thought brawny Bruce Willis couldn't play a brainy psychologist? You were right.

The Color of Night tries for the same mix of black humor and clever plotting, but misses by a wide margin. It'll have you laughing at it, not with it, and if you pay the full $6, it'll have you, well, seeing red.

A clear contender for Turkey of the Year made even more risible by much pretentious psychobabble.

The director, and a few of the performers, make every effort to play against the material, hoping it will somehow emerge as sophisticated camp, but their efforts are futile.

The artfully superficial relationship between Bill and Rose works to the plot's advantage.