Review of "Twisted" (2004)

She's young, beautiful, smart, horny, and has a great job as a newly-promoted police detective -- so what could possibly be wrong with Jessica Shepard (Ashley Judd)? Well, she just might be a serial killer.

The problem is, she doesn't know if she's guilty of the crimes or not. After just one or two sips of wine, she passes out and wakes up to find that her latest sexual conquest has wound up dead with a cigarette burn on his hand. She also notices new scratches on her hands and face. Hmmm. What could it all mean? Even though she should be the prime suspect in these heinous crimes Jessica is, naturally, made the lead investigator.

Jessica's mentor, John Mills (Samuel L. Jackson), who was once the partner of her father (who murder-suicided his wife and himself years before, leaving kiddie Jessica an orphan), even begins to suspect that maybe there's more to his pert and pretty employee than meets the eye. Even Jessica's new partner Mike Delmarco (Andy Garcia) suspects her but no one bothers say anything, let alone to pull her off the case.

Directed by Philip Kaufman, Twisted should have been a gory, guilty little pleasure along the lines of Judd's other B-grade thrillers. After all, he directed Rising Sun and Quills, both of which were fun to watch from start to finish -- he even got accolades for his less-fun but critically-acclaimed The Unbearable Lightness of Being a few years back. But as the twists and turns work out, Twisted is one of the most boring, predictable, and just plain bad movies to hit the big screen in a long time. The dialog is so clichéd, it's hard to believe that scribe Sarah Thorp actually got "original" screenplay credit ("Maybe I drink too much," concludes the lush, shortly after blacking out... again). The direction is so ham-fisted you almost expect Porky the Pig to have a cameo (for example, Kaufman makes sure we see that Jessica's new partner is around whenever she meets a new guy).

Although there are sharp and deadly screwdrivers, puckered and burned flesh, and plenty of blood and bruises, the only horror in Twisted is the realization that some poor saps will actually spend their hard-earned dollars to see this so-called film.

Review by Staci Layne Wilson for Horror.com