MOVIE REVIEWS: EXPLORING THE DARK SIDES : ‘Black Widow’

“Black Widow” (citywide) sounds intriguing from the moment you hear the cast and the pitch-perfect premise: the obsession of one young woman (Debra Winger) with the life and crimes of another--an irresistible young seductress (Theresa Russell) who marries, then buries a succession of extremely rich men.

In a way, director Bob Rafelson and producer Harold Schneider have taken an audacious gamble: betting that two of the screen’s most charismatic young actresses can carry a drama entirely on their own, without the bolstering of a big-name male star. But carry it they do, as far as Ronald Bass’s script allows--far enough for Russell and Winger to turn in a pair of brilliant performances, feral and captivating by turns.

(Let me hasten to add that “Black Widow” has fine actors like Dennis Hopper and Nicol Williamson, who give enormous presence to small roles, and a charismatic personality in the person of Sami Frey, but with the greatest deference, they are not Robert Redford, Paul Newman and/or Gerard Depardieu.)

But the same story that lures us finally lets us down. It’s a water-skeeter of a screenplay: venturing out into deep water but never really breaking the surface tension, never quite risking enough. You can be absorbed by “Black Widow,” fascinated and intrigued by it--and you can capitulate entirely while watching the seductive interplay of these two actresses--but “Black Widow” never really gets you by the throat. It’s sleek where it should be dangerous.

Within the movie’s first opening seconds, an aura of luxury and protection is evoked as Russell is summoned back to Manhattan via private helicopter at the death of her much older publishing-tycoon husband. Immediately we contrast and intercut her life with Winger’s in the charmless squalor of Washington bureaucracy, in the Federal Special Investigations office where she has become something of a star over the last six years.

A computerized sleuth, Winger has been monitoring all deaths reported from an extremely rare condition called Ondine’s Curse. After two rich husbands with recent, very young wives succumb to the same malady, Winger begins to suspect that Russell is the rich young death angel.

As Russell moves in on shy Seattle philanthropist Nicol Williamson, a candidate for husband No. 3, Winger is close on her trail. This courtship and marriage is our first chance to watch Russell cast her net--part of the movie’s most fascinating and too-scanty underpinnings. It’s easy enough for Russell to suggest the sexual heat that lured these men, but how does one go about meeting, much less cultivating them? We want more examples of Russell’s ingenuity, her skull practice. Williamson is superb in sketching with a few quick lines this millionaire museum board member--he makes him appealing, touching, intelligent . . . and missed, as he too departs the scene.

Finally, we move to the heart of the movie. As Winger tracks her prey to Hawaii, the two women meet--and become wary, then warm friends. To Winger--thrown together slapdash, her hair a cheerful thicket--Russell’s surface polish and sexual assurance are stupendous. For her part, Russell, who’s never had close women friends, is flattered by Winger’s disingenuous admiration--even when she suspects her motives. And there is more than one hint that the film makers want to suggest a “Persona”-like transference at work.

Millionaire French hotel man Sami Frey is the last element in the intimate dealings between the two women. As she reels him in, Russell deliberately throws Frey and Winger together, an act that costs Winger her last vestiges of self-confidence.

But from here to its conclusion, the story has a real slippage problem. The denouement feels cut, or hastily slapped together. It leaves a smooth and handsome movie dangling, without an emotional resolution.

Yet almost nothing detracts from the pleasure of watching Winger and Russell, impeccably cast, take the measure of each other. (Someone will have to defend Russell’s brief but disastrous Southern accent, though. It’s so bad you think it’ll become a plot point.)

And in addition to its stars, “Black Widow” (rated R for sexual situations, brief nudity, strong language) has a jewel-like cast, many reunited from previous Rafelson movies: Diane Ladd as a shrewd Texas sister-in-law of Russell, Lois Smith as a devoted personal secretary, and James Hong as a private investigator in Hawaii, Terry O’Quinn as Winger’s most sympathetic boss and D. W. Moffett as her charming co-worker.

The production (whose executive producer was Laurence Mark) is elegant, top to bottom: in its design, by Gene Callahan; its sumptuous photography, marked by the return of the influential Conrad Hall to his place behind the camera; the costumes of Patricia Norris, which convey more about each woman’s character than pages of dialogue; the editing, by the impeccable John Bloom, and Michael Small’s music, that sets a dangerous mood from its first, assaulting chords.

‘BLACK WIDOW’

A 20th Century Fox Film Corp. release. Producer Harold Schneider. Executive producer Laurence Mark. Director Bob Rafelson. Screenplay Ronald Bass. Camera Conrad L. Hall. Production design Gene Callahan. Editor John Bloom. Costumes Patricia Norris. Music Michael Small. Set decorators Jim Duffy, Buck Henshaw, Rick Simpson. Makeup creation and design Dorothy Pearl. Sound David MacMillan. With Debra Winger, Theresa Russell, Sami Frey, Dennis Hopper, Nicol Williamson, Terry O’Quinn, James Hong, Diane Ladd, D. W. Moffett, Lois Smith, Leo Rossi, Danny Kamekona, Rutanya Alda, Mary Woronov.

Running time: 1 hour, 42 minutes.

MPAA-rated: R (persons under 17 must be accompanied by parent or adult guardian).