A few eye-filling bikini shots of Sherilyn Fenn are not reason enough to sit through this self-conscious, forced, artificial, illogical film noir "homage". Roughly half the dialogue is gibberish in desperate need of translation; perhaps the characters were inventing a new form of space language or something. It's one of those rare films where absolutely NOTHING works, and after about 20 minutes you'll be ready to give up on it. (*)
Review of Desire and Hell at Sunset Motel
