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Tightrope (1984)
The title alludes to the fine line between Clint Eastwood's S&M inclined cop character and a faceless serial killer who scours the brothels and sex clubs of New Orleans. He is like Michael Myers for adults; since his victims are grown women, their lewdness is upped accordingly in order for them to be murdered with some sort of moral justification. Director Richard Tuggle's interest in them and the killer is like that of a forensic photographer. There's nothing about either of them which is not two-dimensional, and the suspense suffers badly for it. But there's another aspect of Tightrope with a lot more nerve and a fresher angle, namely the disparity between the Eastwood character's home life as a single father of two girls on the one hand, and his sexual interests on the other – and his trouble reconciling the two as the case he is investigating wipes out the line between them. Clint tries to give his character more depth than usual, mainly by squinting with one eye, and it makes Wes Block almost authentic at times. But any real authenticity only shines through in his scenes with real-life daughter Alison Eastwood, who plays his daughter Amanda here. The final development of their relation represents the picture's real climax. Whereas the ensuing end-game between Eastwood and the killer is just going through the motions.
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