This 30-Year-Old Erotic Thriller Has a Twist Ending You'll Never See Coming

Following the release of 1992’s The Hand That Rocks the Cradle, Rebecca De Mornay shot to superstardom as one of the preeminent actors of the erotic thriller. The Hand That Rocks the Cradle, to borrow a term from Karina Longworth in her Erotic '90s season of You Must Remember This, was one of a series of movies that used “the BLANK from Hell” trope – in that case, “the nanny from Hell” – in the wake of Fatal Attraction’s success. (That one would be "the mistress from Hell.")

The Hand That Rocks the Cradle came toward the end of this trend, as 1992 saw the birth of a new variety of erotic thriller in Basic Instinct, which combined a neo-noir atmosphere with explicit sex and violence. De Mornay, hot off Cradle’s success, had a pair of 1993 hits: Guilty as Sin, a legal thriller co-starring Don Johnson, and The Three Musketeers, where she took on the classic role of Milady de Winter (which fellow femme fatale Faye Dunaway had essayed in the ‘70s version). De Mornay was off screens in 1994, and, by the time she returned to movie theaters in 1995, the erotic thriller had largely gone stale. While certainly there were a few gems in the subgenre — including The Last Seduction and (to some at least) Showgirls — America seemed to be getting more buttoned up, and erotically-tinged films were becoming more successful on video and premium cable. And so the environment in which De Mornay’s next entry arrived was not favorable, and, in the 30 years since its premiere, Never Talk to Strangers has largely been forgotten. But with its steamy content, pulpy mystery, and swift 86-minute runtime, it might very well be one of the most fun erotic thrillers out there.

Rebecca De Mornay is the Ultimate '90s Hitchcock Blonde

Never Talk to Strangers is, unfortunately, saddled with some unfair disadvantages for anyone considering a watch today, including a (ridiculous) 19% Rotten Tomatoes score and a 2.7 rating from Letterboxd users. The disconnect here seems to be an expectation that all movies of this ilk must reach a Fatal Attraction pedigree. As if every movie can match that Alex Forrest freak. But De Mornay is perhaps the unsung hero of the erotic thriller. The actress is a prototype for America's favorite kind of villainess, with a quality invoked by Hal Hinston’s review in The Washington Post on October 21, 1995: “De Mornay is an ice blonde in the [Alfred] Hitchcock tradition of Janet Leigh and Tippi Hedren.” And Never Talk to Strangers flips every expectation of her persona on its head, all while dialing up the sexual content to 100. In many ways, rather than a cousin of Basic Instinct, Strangers instead recalls Hedren's title character in Hitchcock’s Marnie (a fascinating precursor to the erotic thrillers to come 25 years after its release).

In the movie, De Mornay plays Dr. Sarah Taylor, a psychologist who is first shown interviewing a rapist (Harry Dean Stanton) who is claiming insanity. She lives in a charming old Victorian apartment building with the adoring — and kind of creepy — Cliff Raddison (Dennis Miller) as a neighbor. She’s not so interested in him — but she meets the sensual stranger (get it?) Tony Ramirez (Antonio Banderas), whom she is very, very, very into. They quickly become an item who engage in extremely sweaty sexual encounters. Meanwhile, Sarah deals with a stalker who seems intent on murdering her, and the audience learns about her traumatic childhood, which included sexual abuse at the hands of her father (Len Cariou), who is still knocking around.

A lot of incidents happen from there, following the usual three-act formula of this kind of thriller. It seems as if Tony might be the stalker, and he is repeatedly depicted in a shady light … but there’s more to the story, including Dr. Taylor’s dead ex-boyfriend and her mother’s mysterious death. The twists keep coming: The dangerous set pieces. The double-crosses. A dead pet. And then the movie finally reveals its hand.

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Image via TriStar Pictures

Spoilers incoming (obviously).

Turns out: Dr. Taylor has been doing the stalking and murdering to herself the whole time, a result of having Dissociative Identity Disorder, then known as Multiple Personality Disorder. It’s a major, MAJOR WTF moment upon first viewing, the kind of twist studio executives were salivating over in the mid-1990s. There’s more to it, of course, with a laundry list of expository dialogue rationalizing the previous 80-odd minutes and beyond. But even knowing this twist going in, watching De Mornay portray this break into insanity is a sight to behold.

Further, the movie’s commitment to full-on eroticism is commendable. It does not hold back, and not just by throwing nudity at the screen. In one heated sequence that takes place against an incredibly suggestive cage inside Banderas’ loft apartment, De Mornay even bites Banderas’ bare butt. Whereas this buttoned-up woman has been showcased as demure up until these erotic scenes, the sex in Never Talk to Strangers winks at the audience, anticipating the reveal of Dr. Taylor’s various identities.

The Jaw-Dropping Twists Never Stop Coming

Now — to be clear — a lot of this movie dates poorly. Its psychology is unlikely to pass any kind of modern litmus test. It, like so many of its breed, ultimately seems to punish the sexually liberated career woman, even as it clumsily attempts to empathize with her harrowing past — which plays more as perfunctory than sincere.

The movie still works, however, because De Mornay is fully game. And no one, absolutely no one, can inhabit the psychotic with as much sympathy as she does. While not as slick as Cradle, the production elements are stellar. It is camp, to be sure, but the kind of delicious, shocking, twisty-turny camp that just doesn’t get made at this high-quality level anymore, replete with sumptuous 35 mm photography. Add in a young Banderas, smoldering hotter than a hot dog ready to serve at a Fourth of July bar-b-que, and you have a fever dream of erotic nostalgia.

While most reviews were scathing, questioning the plausibility of the plot — as if that was why anyone would be watching — there were a few critics who seemed to get what the movie was all about. Joe Baltake keenly pointed out that "De Mornay [gets] the chance to dig into her role and create some really juicy scenes, opposite Banderas and Cariou in particular. With a change of mood as daringly impressive as anything you’re likely to see on screen these days, the actress can go from a marvelously urgent scene to one of utter quietness."

Audiences were not into it in 1995, which is probably why — as it passes its 30th anniversary — Never Talk to Strangers doesn’t get discussed too often. But on sheer entertainment value alone, it is a film that needs to be revisited.

Release Date October 20, 1995

Runtime 86 minutes

Director Peter Hall

Writers Jordan Rush

Producers András Hámori, Barbet Schroeder, Martin Wiley, Rebecca De Mornay, Robert Lantos

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  Dennis Miller

  Cliff Raddison

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