1.5/5
Can an Al Pacino movie make you want to scream and hurl things at the nearest mirror, out of frustration? The ones after 2000 probably can. For me, his earlier works have been among some of the finest times I have ever had while experiencing cinema. But this was an exception.
The movie's title is a double entendre. Cruising, besides its usual literal meaning, also means looking for a sex partner. An increase in my fornication related vocabulary was the only contribution of this below par shit fest.
There is a serial killer who is murdering gays who frequent S & M clubs. The murdered persons have a type which fits Mr. Pacino to a T. Pacino is a detective and his superior calls him up and asks him to literally put his ass on line.
Pacino does that. The question is whether the lure of the bait is strong enough to attract the killer?
The mystery is shockingly pedestrian. The direction by the erstwhile king of thrillers, William Friedkin, th creator of the Exorcist and the French Connection, is lackluster.
The question which boggled my mind after watching this was why did Pacino act in this? Sure, the setting is different and the idea of playing a cop who is exploring the seedier underbelly might have sounded attractive. But the translation on screen is zilch. Pacino doesn't get any chance to show his histrionics and nearly sleepwalks through the role.
The ending is as obscure as it gets and made me wanna shoot someone as a compensation for the hundred odd minutes I wasted watching this crap.
Meant only for die hard fans of serial killer movies. Pacino lovers, stay the fuck away from this. You may just end up hating him for doing this.
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