Reappraising this after a few years' absence it actually wears it's venal vulgarities with a contagious swagger. Utter twaddle but it knows where it's going and proceeds there over the speed limit using the highest lead fuel possible. This high octane cheek is sadly missing from much contemporary mainstream cinema. Goldsmith's gorgeous score is silkily sly.
25 years later Verhoeven's take on the American thriller is still an adrenaline rush of sex, perversion and murder. Jerry Goldsmith's now classic score drives the film as does Verhoeven's audacity in drawing performance and making use of a very Hitchcockian San Francisco. The controversial elements have long since dissipated leaving a strong thriller behind despite its third act problems from writer Joe Eszterhas.