I recently saw this film streaming on Criterion, with comparisons to David Lynch. I was surprised to see that said film, Fleshtone, was the same movie that in its original era was destined to live and die as filler on video store shelves and late-night cable airings. I'm not sure if standards have changed as much as what was once a glut is now seen as a glimpse into a fast-fading world - in this case, the world of "respectable" softcore, a slight notch above Shannon Tweed playing sex therapist or plotting revenge. While Harry Hurwitz's career may not receive the same recognition as the iconic Mr. Lynch, this film at least is worth the watch, or at least better than the IMDB score indicates.
Fleshtone is a very uneven mix of both levels of cheapo fare, with the first half featuring some clear softcore staples (a throwaway lesbian sequence, and a topless woman rubbing herself in a car) and the second half focused more on routine violence (even the sex scene feels very shaky-cam, although there are a few interesting post-coital touches). In spite of being seedier, the first half has a much better atmosphere and flow - the second half is more plot-heavy and has some borderline woeful action scenes (not helped by music that sounded like it was borrowed from a rejected soundtrack for one of those mid/late-80s syndicated staples like New Twilight Zone/Tales from the Darkside/Friday the 13th). You also get into the inevitable suspension of disbelief, especially when he travels cross-country as a murder suspect...admittedly, even the best films have these moments so I'm getting into nitpicking territory.
What connects both halves is Martin Kemp, a man with an incredibly fascinating career, here somewhere around the halfway point between touring the world as part of Spandau Ballet and going to war with Phil Mitchell in the streets of Walford. Kemp had a pitstop in several "thrillers" along these lines, the most famous possibly being Embrace of the Vampire, the film Alyssa Milano successfully used to go the Drew Barrymore career revitalization route. Unlike a number of actors (Jeff Fahey, C Thomas Howell, Harry Hamlin) originally destined for bigger things who somehow ended up half-or-three-quarters naked in your living room at 2 in the morning, Kemp immerses himself into the experience, never seeming like he's slumming. He draws you into the character's troubled inner world yet also makes him seem sympathetic.
Hurtz's best directorial choice might be the contrast between Kemp's character in the outside world (often wearing a long trench coat that walks with him) and when he's indoors. Indoors, he's frequently half-naked (he only has one actual nude scene, but the extended shot of him in his white vest and briefs when the phone calls begin somehow feels more intimate than a nude scene would be). There are interesting choices made (whether they were deliberate for a character reason, or just Kemp not wanting to show too much, I don't know) in his one post-coital scene which shows just enough of the character to make him feel vulnerable, rather than any type of anti-hero or bad boy. Kemp's big blue eyes are also used just right in conveying the innocence of his spirit.
Kemp also gives some weight to the film's quasi-open ending, helping to drive home that nothing will ever truly be the same for his character, He is pretty much the only reason this choice works for me as well as it does.
Lise Cutter, who comes off as a cross between a mid '90s sitcom mom and (as others have mentioned) Working Girl era Melanie Griffith, does a good job with a sloppy part.
I also have to give a nod to Tim Thomerson, so far away from the years he starred in one cult sitcom after another and now looking more like Sam Elliott, who gives a steady performance in a thankless role. If this genre of film had been around a decade earlier, I imagine he would have been in the lead role.
