Sharon Stone, who brought a whole new meaning to the phrase "spread 'em" in Basic Instinct, is at it again in Basic Instinct 2, but this time the back of a chair blocks our view. Shucks. As Catherine Tramell, a femme fatale described by one of her victims as "the fuck of the century," Stone became a star overnight, despite having been in the business for years. And a decade and a half later, with little of substance added to her resume, she still exudes that old-Hollywood glamour. Thanks to (I'm guessing) diet and exercise, avoiding the sun, choosing the right plastic surgeon, choosing the right cameraman, Botox injections and digital touch-ups, she looks like a million bucks. Make that a reported 14 million bucks.
How Stone looks is the real subject of Basic Instinct 2, which has her stalking London in a series of do-me-now outfits, with enough skin showing to qualify for selected centerfolds. There is a plot, however, something about a smugly handsome psychotherapist (David Morrissey, a blander, if it can get any blander, version of Liam Neeson) who falls under her spell and can't decide whether to probe the recesses of her mind or you-know-what her brains out. Meanwhile, she's screwing with his mind, pre-writing her latest crime novel, in which a smugly handsome psychotherapist….
It takes a while " okay, the entire movie " for the plot to kick in, but when it does, with mere moments to go, Stone's Tramell has been miraculously restored to her legendary status, a Hitchcockian blond with a Hannibal Lecterian bite. But that's an awfully long time to wait, and there isn't much to do while scriptwriters Leora Barish and Henry Bean set up their did-she-or-didn't-she ending. A stuffed shirt in the classic British style, Morrissey/Dr. Glass is unworthy of Stone/ Tramell, who would normally eat this kind of guy for breakfast. But he isn't the only one who's let her down. Director Michael Caton-Jones, handed "the fuck of the century," didn't have the foggiest idea what to do with her. All dressed up and nowhere to go.