When director Bob Fosse set out to make a movie about murdered Playboy Playmate Dorothy Stratten, he obviously saw much of the main plot-potential in Stratten's deranged husband/manager Paul Snider...and, distressingly, that's who he seems to identify with throughout. The picture's narrative is immediately shaky because Fosse has no interest in seeing both sides; Stratten is just a pawn in the proceedings. Fosse views Snider as a derailed dreamer who thought he finally found fame and fortune (via his wife), and the built-in apologia for Snider's behavior feels sleazy. Eric Roberts is hard to take as Snider, spitting out his lines while twisting his face in rage, while poor Mariel Hemingway is hardly given a chance (and when her moments come, she's sluggish and unsure). The editing is fairly tight, going back and forth in time while creating palpable dread, though the bloody flash-forwards are numbing, and Fosse's documentary style (derivative from his "Lenny") eventually exhausts itself. What was Fosse's point? That Paul Snider was the ultimate victim? Absurd! ** from ****
Review of Star 80
