Don’t Read This Column

I am not, thank God, a movie critic, due to the fact that my comments about movies are usually no more profound than “That was pretty good” or “Why did I bother to see the stupid thing?”

That is excellent reason to leave cinematic judgment to those much wiser than I, except when protest regarding the film in question splashes beyond the movie pages and into those areas where the lumpen proletariat abide.

That’s my beat.

For instance, when “The Last Temptation of Christ” had Christians foaming at the mouth, I stepped in to still the raging foam.

When “Colors” had gang members gang-banging each other from Westwood to Pico Rivera, I said, “Let there be peace,” and ducked.

And now comes “Basic Instinct” which, due to its violence and sexuality, has just about everyone p.o.’d, especially those groups concerned with women in general and lesbians in particular.

They hate the thing.

The reason they hate it is because they believe “Instinct” shows lesbians in a less than favorable light and encourages violence toward women.

I’m not sure what lesbians are like, so I don’t know if the film depicts them in a negative light or not. But since everyone else in the movie is depicted in a negative light, why should they be spared?

“Instinct” is not limited to violence against any one group, but rather manages to spread blood over many, including one lesbian, two cops, a bisexual shrink, two sets of parents, their children, a has-been rock ‘n’ roll star and some tourists from Allentown, Pa.

Everybody but the family dog dies screaming.

Before the film made its debut, gay activists warned they would do everything in their power to disrupt its opening, which naturally turned out to be a box-office boon to its makers.

Everyone loves a movie born in hell, and everyone is coming to see it.

But for all the noise created by those who resent “Instinct,” the protest has turned out to be nothing more than tepid pamphleteering.

Fist-shaking faded to finger-shaking and bellowing resentment became a firm “Naughty!” That is hardly the stuff of which revolutions are made, but maybe the activists came to realize the movie wasn’t worth the fuss.

One group, however, is making something of an impact by committing what it feels must be Hollywood’s most devastating crime. Its members are going around town--you ready for this?--revealing the film’s ending! Oh, my God! I know what you mean.

Their rationale is, if you know the ending, you won’t go see the movie.

“Who wants to see a murder mystery when there is no longer a mystery involved?” one gay activist said to me over the telephone. “So I’m going to tell you the ending.”

“People don’t care about mystery,” I said. “They’ll go see the movie because there’s a lot of killing and fornicating going on.”

“Anyhow,” he said, “Beth did it.”

Except that Beth didn’t do it. Or maybe Beth did it too, I’m not sure.

I saw “Basic Instinct” the other night because it is my job to witness firsthand that which is rattling the sensitivities of those within my quadrant of interest.

Or, as my wife put it, “You want to see Sharon Stone naked, right?” Right.

There’s a lot of Sharon Stone naked in “Instinct.” Even when clothed she manages to be partly naked, if you know what I mean. At one point she explains to Michael Douglas she wears no underwear.

The explanation is unnecessary. We can see she wears no underwear.

Stone is writer-murder suspect Catherine Trammell. She is being pursued in just about every way imaginable by Douglas, who is Nick Curran, an emotionally unstable, mean-tempered, gun-happy, alcoholic San Francisco cop.

They end up in, over and under the sack many times in scenes hot enough to wilt ranunculus. Nick is convinced that Catherine is an ice-pick killer and this is his way of proving it. It’s a new method.

Beth is a police psychiatrist killed by Nick when he comes to suspect it is she, not Catherine, who has been doing all the murdering.

The end? Not quite.

With Beth out of the way, Nick and Catherine celebrate (where else?) in bed. You think it’s happy-ever-after time at last except as they, er, celebrate, we pan to an ice pick under Catherine’s bed! Nick is in for one hell of a surprise.

As a homophobic movie, “Basic Instinct” is too awkward to be mean. As a dirty movie, it’s too obvious to be erotic. I liked “The Little Mermaid” better. It’s about trans-species sexuality. A prince makes love to a fish.