aka Blue Passion

Dir. Niko Mastorakis



If Alfred Hitchcock and Brian DePalma teamed up to produce a film for a Pay-Per-View softcore channel, but only had a small fraction of their combined skill, and an even smaller fraction of their normal budget, the result might look something like In the Cold of the Night, a bonkers neon-noir thriller with more skin than sense. Our protagonist, Scott Bruin is living the coke-fueled, late 80’s/early 90’s American West Coast dream. He’s got a successful fashion photography studio/loft in L.A., swaths of conventionally attractive women ready to throw themselves at him, and a glowing waterbed on which to sleep with said women. The only trouble is he’s having recurring nightmares in which he murders the same woman in the same house by different means, causing him to question his own sanity and setting him on a search for this mysterious dream woman.



In the Cold of the Night’s biggest issue is pacing. The running time is 113 minutes, generally much longer than you’d want your schlock to be, but forgivable if the film can keep things entertaining. And while In the Cold of Night is never particularly boring, there are long stretches where it’s not particularly exciting either. When Scott finally meets his mystery woman, Kimberly, a lot of time is devoted to them hanging around her residence and romancing each other while Scott skirts the question of his ominous connection to her. There’s not much plot progression until the end of the second act is reached, but it’s also during this second act where some of the film’s most wonderfully odd moments occur, and if they are any indication of Mastorakis’ sexual proclivities, the man is is both weirdly perverse and almost adorably prude, as showcased by the sucking of caviar off of fingertips, and the dumping of marbles over the body during coitus. Surely this act would bring confusion, maybe befuddled amusement upon a most human beings, but it sends Kimberly over the fucking edge of carnal delights. As one might guess, a good chunk of the picture is devoted to sex, earning the picture an apt NC-17 rating. It’s about as hard as softcore can get, so if that’s your thing, there’s plenty of it here.



The picture picks up again in the final act after a reveal so out of left field it’s hilarious. A new character is introduced and action is ramped to speedily reach the climax, which is over just as quickly. It’s a bit of a let down, like Mastorakis forgot he needed to end the movie and hurriedly slapped something together. While it’s not necessarily unsatisfying, it could have done with a meatier endgame, though the final few shots are a doozie. Still, the enjoyment of In the Cold of the Night comes not in the destination, but in the journey, in the low-key weirdo moments, the idiosyncrasies, like Mastorakis’ fixation on food, which extends beyond the sensual and into general strangeness. And Scott’s dreams/hallucinations that look like they’ve been processed through a The Birds (1963) with a hilariously ill-fitting and on-the-nose reference. The picture picks up again in the final act after a reveal so out of left field it’s hilarious. A new character is introduced and action is ramped to speedily reach the climax, which is over just as quickly. It’s a bit of a let down, like Mastorakis forgot he needed to end the movie and hurriedly slapped something together. While it’s not necessarily unsatisfying, it could have done with a meatier endgame, though the final few shots are a doozie. Still, the enjoyment of In the Cold of the Night comes not in the destination, but in the journey, in the low-key weirdo moments, the idiosyncrasies, like Mastorakis’ fixation on food, which extends beyond the sensual and into general strangeness. And Scott’s dreams/hallucinations that look like they’ve been processed through a Video Toaster . There are supporting performances from Brian Thompson (always a welcome addition) and Shannon Tweed who make the most of their unfortunately limited screen time. There’s also a cameo from Tippi Hedren that seems designed for the sole purpose of reminding you that she was in(1963) with a hilariously ill-fitting and on-the-nose reference.

So there’s a lot to enjoy about the film. Not if you’re looking for balls-to-the-wall action, tight plotting, or clear themes. But there are some well shot and edited sequences, some fun performances, and if you can appreciate neon kitsch, sleazy melodrama, excessively large sandwiches, and marble fetishism, then In the Cold of the Night might be one of your new favorite hidden gems.











