Realização:
Michael Caton-JonesCâmara:
Gyula PadosMúsica:
John MurphyElenco:
Sharon Stone, David Morrissey, Charlotte Rampling, David Thewlis, Hugh Dancy, Flora Montgomery, Indira Varma, Heathcote Williams, Terence Harvey (mais)Sinopses(1)
In the sexy and sleek psychological thriller Basic Instinct 2: Risk Addiction, after re-locating from San Francisco to London, best-selling crime novelist Catherine Tramell (Sharon Stone) once again finds herself on the wrong side of the law. Dr. Michael Glass (David Morrissey), a respected London criminal psychiatrist, is brought in by Scotland Yard detective Roy Washburn (David Thewlis) to perform a psychiatric profile and evaluation of Tramell following the mysterious death of a top sports star. Physically drawn to Tramell and mentally intrigued by her, Glass, against the advice of his mentor, Dr. Milena Gardosh (Charlotte Rampling), is quickly sucked into her web of lies and seduction. The professional boundaries between Glass and Tramell are obliterated when she uncovers his basic instincts. A deadly battle of wits ensues, climaxing as Glass faces a choice that will change both their lives forever. (texto oficial do distribuidor)
(mais)Críticas (5)
Retire tudo o que tornou o primeiro Instinto Fatal interessante, original, imprevisível, de suspense e sexy, e terá Instinto Fatal 2. Os créditos de abertura provocam, mas qualquer potencial para outro sexo no filme, e esse é MUITO pequeno e MUITO abreviado, é enterrado por David Morrissey. E o resto do elenco é igualmente mau - seria difícil encontrar um filme mais estragado para o casting. Nem mesmo Sharon Stone, cuja mão envelhecida cobre a sua pequena cara maquilhada cada vez que fuma um cigarro, pode salvá-lo. O argumento parasita desamparadamente nas ideias do primeiro filme e resulta num thriller abaixo da média, ao estilo de A Cor da Noite. É aqui que as Framboesas de Ouro serão outorgadas.
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I was curious about this film due to the overwhelmingly negative reviews it received. After watching it, I must say it's not nearly as bad as it's made out to be. However, that doesn't mean it's a good film either. Nonetheless, fans of the genre and those who still appreciate Sharon Stone's remaining charm might give it a second star. The problem is that the main draw of this film was supposed to be the fading star, Stone. Unlike other models who have strayed from the runway to the screen, she is capable of delivering a certain level of acting performance. When supported by a good director and quality co-stars, she can even surpass herself, as she demonstrated in Casino or The Muse. Otherwise, she is a completely average actress who excels at self-presentation. Since this sequel brought together a mediocre director with mediocre actors and a mediocre script, the result is a mediocre industrial product suitable for airing on any commercial TV station any time after midnight for chronic insomniacs. Overall impression: 20%.
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The disappointment of the year. This sequel doesn't offer anything new and mostly just descends into a cheap and ordinary replica of the first part. The actors are tragic, with Sharon Stone being a chapter of her own in her age. On the one hand, I admire her courage to take on such a project, but on the other, not even the stunning makeup can save her. The script is a blatant imitation of the first part, and the ending is so stupid that it can’t possibly have been meant seriously. The setting of London is boring, just like the ordinary conversations between the patient (Stone) and the therapist (David Morrissey). There is very little sex (I don't know how much was cut out, maybe the DVD will tell us), and when it does happen, there is hardly any boldness to speak of. Everything follows the standard Hollywood formula, and that's essentially the whole film. A needless sequel, better forget about it or watch the first part instead.
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I haven't seen something this unexpectedly bad in a long time. The first hour of the film dragged on so that it felt like two hours, the second for three, Sharon Stone was almost cheaply awkward and the sexist innuendos she made in every other sentence were boring. I prefer not to even mention the unsympathetic dummy, who was her equal in terms of non-acting. Unfortunately, Michael Caton-Jones couldn't save this spectacular mess, and John Murphy wouldn't have gotten laid without Goldsmith's motif. A totally unnecessary film.
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This was almost torture to watch. Sharon Stone's character in the sequel seems more like a caricature of her role in the first film, and she doesn't have anyone noteworthy to stand against. The problem is that the screenplay essentially tries to be an English copy of the previous film, but neither the screenplay nor the direction has the right touch, failing to create tension. It's really impossible to talk about it being erotic.
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