Body of Evidence

This movie makes Basic Instinct look like a masterpiece.

Body of Evidence won't be remembered for classic plotting or brilliant legal gambits. But give it its due: it holds one's attention.

The goal of this odd period in her career is achieved: you get ample opportunity to see what Madonna looks like having sex, or at least what she wants you to *think* she looks like in those private moments.

An erotic thriller that's strangely unerotic and devoid of thrills, this is, however, mercifully short at 100 minutes.

While he may be marginally better at directing kinky sex scenes than Instinct's Paul Verhoeven, [Edel is] stuck with a fairly ho-hum script by Brad Mirman.

Body of Evidence isn’t good. It’s too slow and its courtroom theatrics feel out of step with the evolution of Rebecca and Frank’s relationship. But it’s certainly not the trash fire that critics and the lackluster box office would have you believe.

The only people who could possible hope actually to enjoy this film would be... those sad types who derive pleasure from feeling cross.

There is little, if any, erotic chemistry between Dafoe and Madonna, and, as a result, their sex scenes look more like hard work than pleasure.

Another turkey from the queen of pop, and possibly the worst film on her CV of cinematic clunkers.