There’s a serial killer called The Black Angel out there doing his or her thing. This movie is listed as an erotic thriller on Wikipedia, but that sounds like a giallo, but it’s slasher month and hey — this movie sat on shelves for years until Kevin Costner became a big name.
Rydell King is a cop with something to prove, because his daughter was kidnapped and killed several years ago, so the opportunity to deal out justice to another killer sounds like a dish he didn’t put in the air fryer. He gets the idea that a prostitute named Lee, who is totally living that Betsy Russell/Donna Wilkes life because she looks way too clean to be a girl working those rough streets, can lead him to the killer.
She then goes to her birthday party, which has a dude playing stand-up bass and a magician and we have another 80s movie that says, “See, being a hooker is totally fun and safe except for that one guy who wants to kill you.” And then Lee gets strangled while her boyfriend (Costner) doesn’t want to go swim naked with her. He claims its because he wants to watch the magic show, which is absolutely a lie because no one really likes magic, and more likely because every time he swims, The Mariner must drink his own urine.
In case you wonder when someone is going to die, it’s every time someone gets naked. And by someone, I mean women, because this movie is all about the male gaze as well as showing how pubic hair was styled in 1981. It’s also horrible. Yes, despite non-stop nudity, this movie still manages to be like overdosing on opiates and the sleep of death that results.
Actually, this might be a giallo because an obvious dummy gets thrown off a rooftop.