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Color-blind psychiatrist Bill Capa is stalked by an unknown killer after taking over his murdered friend's therapy group, all of whom have a connection to a mysterious young woman that Capa begins having intense sexual encounters with.
Mundane sex scenes, a standard L.A. car chase and Bakula's outrageously gory death scene (which plays like an unintentional parody) are all part of the predictable script.
The director, and a few of the performers, make every effort to play against the material, hoping it will somehow emerge as sophisticated camp, but their efforts are futile.
I'm tempted to go ahead and explain just exactly how transparent -- and implausible -- this mystery is. But then I don't want to spoil it for people who are even worse than I am at this sort of thing. People like Forrest Gump.
Color of Night and North represent the nadir of Willis' plummeting film career. He can be a most engaging talent; his script selection of late has been awful.
The Color of Night tries for the same mix of black humor and clever plotting, but misses by a wide margin. It'll have you laughing at it, not with it, and if you pay the full $6, it'll have you, well, seeing red.
It's a psycho-erotic thriller with more twists and shocks than the rattlesnake which, at one point, leaps out at star Bruce Willis-from a location we won't describe. (It would spoil one of the several dozen surprises.)