Nicolas Cage has made some pretty loony movies in his time, and this ex-filled Southern States steamer is so off-kilter as to be almost round the bend. It's not to much Wild Orchid as Wild Magnolia, as Cage's painter drifts into New Orleans, and into the life of leggy Zandalee (the soldom-clad Erika Anderson) whose mind seldom strays off sex and whose husband (Judge Reinhold), a poet turned enforced-businessman, just happens not to be giving her any. This is the kind of sleazy subject European soft-porn filmmakers were flooding the market with in the Seventies, dressed up here with some ragin' Cajun music and vapidly coloured Louisiana locations which exec producer Reinhold presumably afforded by saving on Ms Anderson's wardrobe. A death-dance sequence between the two men is daft enough to seem inspired by comparison with the rest, as the clichés roll out like millstones round the necks of the cast. It seems amazing that a couple of fairly major stars (and quite a few minor ones) could find nothing better to make than this overcooked kettle of catfish pie.


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