Nurses are getting their asses slain at the hand of a psychopath who believes all his victims to be a woman from his past. Lunatic has Linda on the brain. A hog-tied naked woman gets a switchblade to the back by our bearded weirdo in aviators before the credits hit as a droning synth score blares. Oh yeah, that’s the SOV shit I dig. Detectives that look like coke dealers stumble around, delivering dialogue like mumbling robots, investigating homes that look like your elderly relative’s house where you spent Easter as a kid. Spines exposed, the dead nurses form a pattern (Ya think?) and the cops finally get a lead… not that it will be in time to save a few more nurses. Giant-haired Leah arrives in town and asks to crash with her friend Carrie (who she wakes up with her phone call and morning-Carrie kind of looks like a sick Liza Minnelli) after some trouble brings her from Kansas City to Los Angeles. A better-put-together Carrie (lookin’ less like an under-the-weather Lucille Austero and more like a coked-up Cindy Williams) picks her friend up in her big ol’ van (she’s a swap meet fan) and lets her stay at the nice place she’s housesitting. That Carrie is a good egg. She’s also a nurse which is bad news because the cops are having no luck nabbing the psycho stabber. The killer shows up at Carrie’s work and murders a nurse in the unfinished basement (?) part of the hospital and even though the cops were on site interviewing Carrie, the madman escapes. The only idiot competent at his job is the dude who’s exposing spines thanks to his fevered brain issues and now that Carrie has seen him, she becomes an even larger target. Yikes. Leah gets a receptionist position at Carrie’s hospital… which is some of the worst timing in employment history. The police chief blatantly reads his lines off of a legal pad and the head detective rocks a beard and hat combo that would be better suited for a long-haul truck driver. Along with that, his shirt choices somehow cause nausea. He’s definitely not the hero we need or deserve. There’s tangents on computers, exercise shorts, the kind of thrills you really can’t call thrilling, an extended dream sequence that makes little sense (not in the plotting of a dream because that would be fine but in the inspiration of the actions taken in the dream and the information said dreamer is privy to… but I guess I’m the asshole for dwelling on the logical actions of a late-eighties SOV thriller which was financed by cocaine and back-alley handshakes), sudden psychic abilities (guess that explains the dream… lazily) and an incredibly lame ending. It’s dull but also the kind of stupid I can get behind.
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