Never Talk to Strangers (1995) Tri-Star/Suspense-Thriller RT: 86 minutes Rated R (violence, language, strong graphic sexual content including references to rape, nudity) Director: Peter Hall Screenplay: Lewis Green and Jordan Rush Music: Pino Donaggio Cinematography: Elemer Ragalyi Release date: October 20, 1995 (US) Cast: Rebecca De Mornay, Antonio Banderas, Dennis Miller, Len Cariou, Harry Dean Stanton, Eugene Lipinski, Martha Burns, Beau Starr, Phillip Jarrett, Tim Kelleher, Emma Corosky. Box Office: $6.8M (US)
Rating: *
SPOILER ALERT! Yes, there will be spoilers in my review of Never Talk to Strangers and for good reason. The best line in this ludicrous thriller gives away the not-unexpected ending. It’s a line that became an in-joke between me and the two friends I saw it with for a long time afterwards. It still makes me chuckle when I hear it. I’ll tell you the line, but not right now. I’m saving it for later.
What makes Never Talk to Strangers stand out for me (among other things) is that I actually paid to see it. In the 90s, I rarely paid to see movies. I attended a lot of free pre-release screenings. However, not every movie had a screening which was always an omen of something horrible to come (to theaters). Never Talk to Strangers was NOT screened in advance, not even for critics. Of course, I had to see it right away. I went to a late show on opening night with a couple of friends. As expected, it was bad. It made us laugh in parts, a reaction I’m sure the director never intended. It played for a week or two before disappearing into the FMZ (Forgotten Movie Zone) for all but the select few who never forget a movie. People like me. A quarter century later, Never Talk to Strangers still makes for great bad movie viewing.
UK filmmaker Peter Hall (Perfect Friday) attempts to channel Brian De Palma (right down to hiring Pino Donaggio to compose the score) with this suspenseless thriller about a criminal psychologist who gains a stalker at the same time she starts a new relationship with a handsome stranger. Dr. Sarah Taylor (De Mornay, The Hand That Rocks the Cradle) leads a quiet existence without the burden of romantic entanglements unless you count the one night stand she had with her creepy neighbor Cliff (Miller, SNL) a year earlier. She endured an abusive childhood with a father (Cariou, The Four Seasons) who has pervert and sex offender written all over his face from the second we meet him. Sarah’s still not over her fiancee leaving her (11 months earlier) when she meets Tony Ramirez (Banderas, Desperado) in a supermarket. Initially wary, she gives him her number and they begin a relationship. This is when somebody starts stalking her. This somebody sends her dead flowers, makes death threats and kills her pet cat. All signs point to Tony, the most obvious suspect. Of course, it’s rarely the most obvious suspect in movies like Never Talk to Strangers.
Pino Donaggio’s score is the only redeeming feature of Never Talk to Strangers. A frequent De Palma collaborator, he composed the scores to Carrie, Dressed to Kill, Blow Out and Body Double. While far from his best work, it’s the best thing in this incompetent movie. The level of ineptitude on display here is astonishing. Hall wants to be De Palma (and by proxy, Hitchcock) in the worst way and fails hilariously as his movie keeps falling flat on its face. It has enough red herrings to open a fish market. Take the imprisoned rapist played by Harry Dean Stanton (Repo Man) in a grievous waste of his talent. If Hall means to set up his character as a suspect, it’s ineffective as well as dumb. An inmate planning to use the insanity defense surely wouldn’t have access to the personal information of the doctor evaluating him. Sure, his lawyer might have it, but even that’s a stretch. To be honest, Stanton’s character serves absolutely no purpose other than false suspect and even then, he’s entirely unnecessary to the story.
The rest of the acting isn’t much better. Frankly, it stinks. There is ZERO chemistry between the two leads. The pairing of De Mornay and Banderas feels incredibly random. Their individual performances consist of an already unsteady De Mornay losing her grip and Banderas playing the sexy seducer. The plot hinges on their mutual attraction, but I wasn’t feeling it. Their sex scenes, especially the one with the butt-biting and tongue play through a wire cage, tickle the funny bone rather than titillate the libido. Miller, in his second non-comedic role that year (the other was The Net), proves he should stick to being funny. He doesn’t cut it as a guy who might be dangerously obsessed with his comely neighbor.
Never Talk to Strangers doesn’t cut it as a movie much less a thriller. There are enough plot holes to warrant the attention of the highway department. The ending won’t come as too much of a shock. It’s heavily hinted at throughout with several mentions of MPD (Multiple Personality Disorder). And now, here comes the spoiler! The movie is filled with dopey dialogue, but the one that takes the cake is this immortal line: “You’re stalking yourself.” LOL! Let that one sink in for a moment. The only other thing I’ll say is that the line is directed at Sarah.
Disappointingly, Never Talk to Strangers was snubbed by the Razzies that year. I guess when something as monumentally bad as Showgirls comes along; other deserving stinkers will fall in its wake. I can think of a few categories it might have swept if not for Paul Verhoeven’s instant camp classic, one with its own hysterically funny sex scene I might add. Awards or not, Never Talk to Strangers is a must-see for lovers of trash cinema. It’s bad every which way yet watchable.
