After a somewhat underwhelming Led Zeppelin concert film to kick off its return (though, the night’s main feature wasn’t completely bereft its charms — and I’m not only referring to the constant display of lead singer Robert Plant’s well-outlined package through his tight jeans – I mean, being a child of the big rock acts of the time, I still enjoy ‘getting the Led out’ once in awhile!), the celluloid-only Deuce series got a bit more back on track, with Deadly Illusion coming with the particular excitement of being one of the harder-to-see titles from the late great indie maverick Larry Cohen whose work remains so important to a genre film lover like myself (co-director William Tannen however? Sorry, never heard of him).

A freelance Big Apple private dick (Billy Dee Williams), operating without a license and with no car (he occasionally borrows his girlfriend’s taxi) takes up a case involving – surprise, surprise – a rich beautiful trophy wife (played by Morgan Fairchild – I know, I know, that it’s her is supposed to be a big reveal later in the film – but, come on, anyone who doesn’t recognize her under that black wig seriously needs to get their eyes checked) who ends up (apparently – hint, hint) dead soon after he has a quick tryst with her out in her East Long Island mansion – and himself framed for the murder. Will the cops, including his old rival Detective Lefferts (Joseph Cortese), catch him before he can figure it all out with the help of aforementioned girlfriend Rina (Vanity), an incredibly accommodating chocolate-covered beauty who tolerates his occasional sexual strayings as an on-going hazard of his job (man, some guys have the life, don’t they?).

The first 20 minutes or so of the film starts more than promisingly enough, with the first scene featuring ubiquitous 70’s grimy character actor extraordinaire Joe Spinell going bonkers in the gun permit office, leading to Hamberger shooting him down, playing as a wonderful slice of testosterone-driven New York, continuing along entertainingly enough, with Hamberger working the streets (where he seems to know and be loved by everyone, an enjoyable running joke of the film), into him settling into his work space (a local diner) where Rina brings him a new client, a wealthy CEO (with the moment of Hamberger, after considering the man’s offer, telling him “well, I think it’s time to head to my office now”, thereby moving them a few feet to the diner’s counter another of those amusingly clever NY bits that helps make Cohen special). After that, alas, while never turning really bad or unwatchable, the narrative, and execution, settle into less Cohen-eccentric territory (I’d love to know the actual breakdown of who shot what between Cohen and the co-director).

While this late 80’s noir (a later release on the Deuce, with the approaching end of that decade also signaling the start of the end to that unique 42nd Street period) turned out as one of the noted maverick iconoclast’s lesser efforts – it’s narrative turning a bit pedestrian, with too few of the normal Cohen character quirks and guerilla shooting style eccentricities (you know those things with which this late great director’s cups normally decidedly runneth over with) – it’s breezy, tongue-in-cheek approach made it easy to engage with and comfortably spend 90 minutes catching up to, even beyond that first wonderful 20 minutes.

If Cohen doesn’t seem particularly inspired with tackling the traditional noir narrative, he does come through with the two leads and their relationship. The likable Williams relishes his role as the gun-happy, noir-weary yet still gregarious private dick Hamberger (‘Please, no jokes about the name’, he sighs each time he introduces himself, showing his single card, which he keeps asking everyone to return to him as it’s the only one he has) and there’s Vanity, whose true main claim to fame might have been as one of that most-delectable group of female concubine muses collected by the brilliant diminutive one known as Prince, or sometimes The Artist Formerly Known as Prince, or sometimes just the Purple One (speaking of multi-names, an interesting factoid the Deuce presenter Joe past on in his presentation is that Prince apparently wanted to her rename her Vagina, but they decided on Vanity), but she’s perfectly lovely here, with an unassuming manner that makes her even more appealing (and hot, but she’d be that even with a bad attitude). The amusingly clever scene of her helping her on-the-run black dick beau escape from Detective Lefferts is well-conceived, and a pleasure to watch her perform.

The side characters and villains are entirely forgettable (including Morgan Fairchild, an actor whose 15 minutes of fame honestly entirely escapes me — then again, it was the 80’s, a time when tons of mediocrity inexplicably rose to the top), but the leads don’t care, clearly having lots of fun with their parts (and while there isn’t enough of Cohen coming through as a filmmaker, there’s just enough to keep it worthwhile). It’s also nice to see the 70’s Leftie Cohen still managing to go after some of his usual appropriate 70’s targets (the scheming corporate scumbags manipulating behind the scenes).

All in all, a nice return to the Deuce.

Buck A Review   crime   larry cohen   police film