If you’ve ever wanted to watch a movie where Charles Bronson grumbles his way through a game of strip-and-stab with a naked serial killer, congratulations — 10 to Midnight exists. If you haven’t, congratulations again — you’re the sane one. This Cannon Films oddity plays like Dirty Harry had a head injury and wandered into a Skinemax slasher flick.
Plot Summary (Or: A Cop, A Killer, and Absolutely No Subtlety)
Bronson plays Leo Kessler, a grizzled LAPD detective who hates paperwork and has all the warmth of a drywall screw. He’s on the trail of Warren Stacy, a clean-cut office worker who spends his free time jogging, tanning, and committing naked murders because he hates being rejected by women. Yes, naked. As in totally nude. The killer gets fully undressed before every murder, because leaving DNA everywhere is somehow smarter than just wearing gloves.
There’s no mystery here — the killer is shown from the beginning. This isn’t a whodunit. It’s a “whocares.” The movie becomes a race against time, as Bronson tries to prove Stacy’s guilt while Stacy tries to rack up a body count before the cops get their act together.
Charles Bronson: Growling Through the Lines Like a Man With Tax Problems
Bronson looks like he’d rather be anywhere else. By 1983, he was already deep into his “angry grandpa with a gun” phase, and 10 to Midnight milks every drop of it. He glowers, mutters, and occasionally explodes in profanity-laced rants like someone found his last box of Raisin Bran empty.
He has a young partner (Andrew Stevens) whose job is to be pretty and useless. Meanwhile, Bronson plants evidence, threatens suspects, and lectures everybody on the virtues of good old-fashioned police brutality. He’s like the poster child for internal affairs complaints.
At one point, Bronson says, “When a man rapes, that’s not love. That’s violence.” Thanks, Chuck. Now explain that to the screenwriter who thought this needed to be said during a murder investigation.
The Killer: Gym Membership + Incel Energy = Naked Stabber
Gene Davis plays Warren Stacy, a serial killer who strips down to his birthday suit before each attack like he’s auditioning for a weird GQ spread titled Serial Killer Chic. He sneaks into apartments, stabs women, and then just sort of… jogs away. It’s like American Psycho on a public access budget.
There’s a long, uncomfortable scene where he stalks a woman in the shower — complete with soft lighting and gratuitous nudity — that somehow manages to be both exploitative and boring. Davis commits to the role, but every time he disrobes, you’re just left wondering: “Did nobody on set ask, ‘Why not just wear a mask?’”
The Script: Written in Crayon by Someone Who Watches the News with a Tinfoil Hat
The writing is painfully on-the-nose. Every conversation sounds like it came from a different movie: Bronson’s doing 1970s cop drama; the killer is in a sleazy grindhouse flick; the side characters sound like they’re rehearsing for a soap opera.
There’s a scene where Bronson reads the killer’s diary out loud to a room full of other cops, and the writing is so absurdly on-the-nose — “They won’t laugh at me after I kill them” — that you half expect the next line to be “This is my villain monologue. I am bad.”
Pacing, Editing, and the Gratuitous Skin Parade
The movie tries to be both a slasher and a cop thriller, and fails at both. The killings are predictable, the chase scenes feel like molasses in January, and the editing is so choppy you’d think the film got into a fight with a paper shredder.
But let’s not ignore what 10 to Midnight really is: a Trojan horse for Cannon Films to cram as much nudity into a movie as humanly possible without calling it Girls Gone Wild: Crime Division. There’s so much random nudity that even the killer is fully nude in every scene. You’re not watching a movie — you’re attending a low-budget anatomy class.
The Climax: Vigilante Justice for Dummies
Eventually, Stacy gets arrested, released, stalks Bronson’s daughter, and tries to murder her while shirtless in the middle of the night — as you do. Just when he’s about to get caught for real, Bronson shoots him in cold blood, execution-style, right in front of witnesses.
Cue dramatic music. Fade to black.
Roll credits.
Wait — what?
Yes, 10 to Midnight ends with a rogue cop committing murder and everyone standing around looking mildly concerned, like someone just dropped a cup of coffee. No fallout, no justice system, no trial — just Bronson delivering Cannon Films’ version of “case closed.”
Final Thoughts: A Cinematic Crime Against Common Sense
10 to Midnight is the kind of film that makes you question your life choices. It’s too trashy to be serious, too slow to be exciting, and too exploitative to be anything but uncomfortable. Charles Bronson’s gruff charm is wasted on a movie that doesn’t know whether it wants to be a thriller, a slasher, or just softcore sleaze with a badge.
If you came for gritty cop drama, go watch Serpico. If you came for nudity, just admit it and go find a better movie. And if you came for justice… well, you clearly don’t work for Cannon Films.
Final Verdict: 1.5/5 Glowering Bronson Frowns
The only thing this movie successfully executes is subtlety — with a blunt object.
