The fact that at the start of the movie the married sports agent sleeps with a woman in Las Vegas - who turns out to be the lead investigator when he is attacked by a home invader - has no bearing at all on the runaway plot, which starts out all Fatal Attraction, drifts into Dial M For Murder, squeezes in a convoluted Strangers On A Train finale, and as if all that weren't already far too much for what is really just a throwaway sleazy thriller of the Basic Instinct kind, finally embarrasses itself by dumping into the vapid mix some weighty messaging about the very real plight of Black men at the mercy of white American law enforcers.
★★☆☆☆
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