The continued ability of Theresa Russell to find work continues to be one of Hollywood's greatest mysteries. The walking definition of the term "limited actress," Russell plays apathy well, but continually finds other emotions well beyond her grasp. Early on in "Impulse," Russell, struggling to portray an L.A. vice cop with personal and professional woes, is called upon to deliver anger and indignation as she finds her smarmy superior officer lounging around her home. Her body tenses up, her eyes narrow, her chest heaves, and... she whines.
Justifiably more famous for her luscious body than for her thespian skills, Russell has somehow managed to cling to the marquee while other, far more gifted ladies have drifted into obscurity. Sondra Locke, who may be to directing what Russell is to performing, offers her little guidance: No doubt she was too busy trying to imprint "Impulse" with the same heavy-handedness and lack of style that made her "Ratboy" (1987) an instant camp classic.
As "Impulse" rushes to cram as much plot into two hours as most soap operas do in two months (Russell dresses as a hooker for work, but finds herself getting turned on by the job until she has an affair with a lawyer and then ends up implicated in a murder involving a drug magnate and a missing suitcase full of money -- and that's just for starters), Locke scurries to pack in at least one cliche every couple of minutes. Everything you've ever hooted at is here: the woman alone in the old dark house; the lovers' clothes sliding to the floor; the mystery man in shades. Throughout, Russell's lustrous face continually remains as expressionless as a Barbie doll's, and Jeff Fahey, as the love interest, provides the perfect Ken compliment with his own frozen features and plastic blue eyes.
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