This botched Gaslight rip-off has all the charm of a direct-to-cable quickie. With more confounding intercutting than you'd see in a summer of MTV, this movie finds Parillaud playing a rich naif who may be a hit woman, or delusional or both. Not that it matters, because 10 minutes into the flick you've stopped caring. Surrounded by a cast of cordwood, Parillaud speaks in a mousy monotone that will lull any remaining theatergoers into a stupor.
What's more, throughout most of the film she wears a black fright wig that disturbingly brings to mind not her turn in La Femme Nikita but Bill Wyman of the Rolling Stones. Gimme shelter!
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