Film Making Does Just What Title Says in ‘Backfire’

In a suspense thriller involving multiple adultery, mass duplicity and more than one murder, you expect a certain coldbloodedness among the conniving protagonists. You don’t, however, expect the kind of coldblooded film making found in “Backfire,” which has its premiere Sunday night at 9 on Showtime cable.

For all the heat supposedly generated by the ample sex and violence, the film is curiously flat, styleless, shiftless. It’s less film noir than film nod, as in nod-off.

In what initially seems like interesting casting, Karen Allen stars as a real femme-fatale baddie, playing a scheming wife with a mixture of meanness and passionlessness that never quite gels. She’s a gal from the poor side of the tracks married to rich guy Jeff Fahey, who--luckily for her inheritance plans--happens to have been seriously unhinged since Vietnam. Induce a post-traumatic stress flashback or five and, bang, she’ll have the estate all to herself and her less batty secret lover, Dean Paul Martin, no?

No. Instead of being driven to suicide, Fahey merely ends up catatonic and in the perpetual care of his increasingly impatient wife. Martin disappears from the scene; his replacement in adultery, Keith Carradine, doesn’t seem to mind moving in and cheating with Allen while Fahey sits around the house with a blank stare on his face. Or is it really blank?

The twists and turns of the plot from writers Larry Brand and Rebecca Reynolds are all in place--perhaps too in place, given the overly neat symmetry of the story line--and it’s inevitable that any villainous types will get a taste of their own medicine, hence the title. If the plot machinations don’t pose a problem, the dialogue does; don’t bother listening for a single memorable line from any of these distinctly unlovable lovers. Wit? Pathos? Forget it.

Underscoring the fact that this is no “Body Heat,” let alone a “Double Indemnity,” is the stolid, workmanlike direction of Gilbert Cates, who seems to care for the characters (and, by extension, actors) even less than his writers did. The copyright date on this intended-for-theatrical-release picture is 1987; two years later, cable seems like just the right resting place for such a dully salacious effort.

Note to parents: Though unrated, the language, nudity and gore of “Backfire” would surely carry a hard R in theaters.