You know that segment of the German population that refuses to acknowledge the existence of the Holocaust? Perhaps they should focus such futile energies on the Krauts’ kraptastic Midnight Cop instead.
It’s a dull, dreary, thrill-free thriller starring Armin Mueller-Stahl (The Game) as Alex Glass, a sloppy and depressed jazz-loving, turtle-owning, pickle-eating police commissioner out to bust a serial killer who slathers Vaseline on the faces of the young women he’s killed.
Weaving in and out of the supposed mystery are Frank Stallone, Sly’s brother, as Jack, a drug-pushing heavy who wears a towel far higher on his waist than any man should; Michael York (Logan’s Run) as Armin’s close pal Karstens, whom York has chosen to play in “sleep” mode; a late-night cafe owner with some kind of funky bloody nub on his shaved head; and Morgan Fairchild (whom I’m slept with) as Lisa, a high-class hooker who falls in love with Glass and sports one incredible behind.
Trust me: Armin’s hands are all over it in several scenes, and I do not blame him; she’s a gorgeous woman.
You’ll have the plot figured out before what little actually happens happens. Mueller-Stahl is typically a fine actor, but you wouldn’t know it with this half-assed German production. You haven’t seen a Terrible Acting Showdown until you witness Stallone and Fairchild go airhead-to-airhead. And the ending is jaw-droppingly terrible on so many levels that I’d almost recommend watching the movie just to see it. Easy there, horsey, I said “almost.” —Rod Lott