Matty gets grubby with David DeCoteau’s wonderfully weird erotic thriller.  

After being hired as a poolboy/housekeeper/live-in dogsbody, Chris (Ken Abraham) begins a steamy affair with his employer, bored housewife Charlotte (Mindi Miller). However, her business exec hubby, Stewart (the star billed Jan-Michael Vincent – a late in the day replacement for Stuart Whitman [1]), is up to no good as well. He’s knocking boots with his Marilyn Monroe-alike secretary (Ruth Collins) — and, it seems, wants Charlotte out of the way by any means necessary… 

At the risk of traipsing into spoilerville, DEADLY EMBRACE’s (1989) strongest suit is that it doesn’t do what you think it will. Despite sporting dialogue that veers close to laboured — and, indeed, outright bad on occasion — the story’s steady shift from neo-noir 101 (Infidelity! Deception! A prospective patsy!) to a weird, Polanski-esque psychodrama is compelling stuff. Granted, in terms of keeping narrative threads tied, such a transformation does result in Stewart’s arc being left to dangle, until his fate is sealed with a sudden and gimmicky sign-off. But the increasingly strange dynamic of Charlotte, Chris, and — when she finally rocks up in the flesh — Chris’ long-distance love, Michelle (Linnea Quigley), is quietly affecting; well conceived, capably performed, and surprisingly unsettling. 

An early assignment for B-movie renaissance man Richard Gabai, Deadly Embrace came about following the actor and aspiring writer/producer/director’s pairing with the mighty David DeCoteau on classic scream queen caper Nightmare Sisters (1988) (which, of course, also starred Quigley). As DeCoteau tells it, Gabai wanted help getting his passion project, Assault of the Party Nerds (1989), off the ground. DeCoteau wasn’t keen. And though he would ultimately go on to produce Assault of the Party Nerds (right away, in fact), DeCoteau’s immediate counter offer was tasking Gabai with scripting Deadly Embrace instead. The burgeoning auteur needed a “sexy thriller” cobbling together in order to cash-in on Adrian Lyne’s epochal Fatal Attraction (1987). 

Lensed in five days, Deadly Embrace falters due to the usual quickie pratfalls, DeCoteau and otherwise. While the tiny schedule and minimal locations work to the film’s advantage, imbuing it with a tense, chamber piece quality, the shameless run time padding — specially, the terrible police interview framing device clearly acted by stand-ins, and Abraham and Quigley’s protracted, semi-improvisational phone calls — hinder forward momentum. Stylistically, Deadly Embrace is meat and potatoes, but there are a few quintessentially DeCoteauian flourishes here and there. The fantasy sequences (which include a boob-baring cameo from DeCoteau, Gabai and Quigley’s fellow Nightmare Sister, Michelle Bauer) are deliciously dreamy, and the studly Abraham — who’d teamed with DeCoteau and Quigley on Creepozoids (1987) — gyrating in bed and rubbing himself in the shower prefigure the bursts of twink-frot integral to Voodoo Academy (2000) et al. 

Assembled under the guise of DeCoteau’s Cinema Home Video (don’t be fooled by the credits’ ‘Gerardfilm Ltd.’ and ‘an Arcade production’) and acquired for distribution by frequent DeCoteau peddler Filmtrust Motion Picture Licensing (Lady Avenger (1988), Assault of the Party Nerds, Murder Weapon (1989), Ghetto Blaster (1989), The Girl I Want (1990)) [2], Deadly Embrace landed on video in the U.S. via Prism on 5th April 1989 [3]. According to DeCoteau, the film remains the biggest and most profitable of his career, to the point where he’s said he regrets putting his ‘Ellen Cabot’ pseudonym on it (Deadly Embrace was the first to use the moniker). Essentially a prototypical erotic thriller, predating the form’s big three — Night Eyes (1990), Carnal Crimes (1990), and Body Chemistry (1990) — by a matter of months, one does wonders how much Deadly Embrace’s success convinced Prism to bankroll the aforementioned Night Eyes. Whatever the case, the plentiful scenes of softcore shagging are suitably titillating. The standout is the culmination of Charlotte’s voyeurism, when she records Michelle riding Chris like a National winner before sternly watching the footage back. 

[1] Whitman was junked when he baulked at having to supply his own wardrobe for the role.
[2] The company even lent some of their office space as a location.
[3] The film hit the U.K. via Cineplex in autumn ‘89. And what a cover! Cineplex also bagged Assault of the Party Nerds.