Let’s not kid ourselves: Illicit Behavior sounds like it was named by a bored porn site algorithm. And watching it feels a lot like staying up too late, half-drunk, flipping through cable channels and landing on something that promises sleaze, danger, and a femme fatale—only to deliver moody lighting, Robert Davi grumbling into a payphone, and the cinematic excitement of a wet ashtray.
We begin with Melissa Yarnell (Joan Severance), who spends the first act of the movie being emotionally walloped by her husband, Mike Yarnell (Robert Davi). Davi, who always looks like he smells faintly of cigar smoke and unpaid gambling debts, plays a burned-out cop who takes his frustrations out on his wife—mostly by brooding, yelling, and sulking like a hungover basset hound. It’s toxic masculinity in an ill-fitting trench coat.
Melissa, being both resourceful and tired of being treated like a punching bag with lipstick, turns to two other cops—Matt Walker (Jack Scalia, the poor man’s soap opera Tom Selleck) and Bill Tanner, for protection. And wouldn’t you know it, these boys in blue are all too eager to serve and protect—especially in the bedroom. What follows is a sweaty tangle of maybe-noir, maybe-softcore, definitely-misguided nonsense, where “helping” a victim of domestic abuse apparently means slowly unbuttoning your shirt while giving her smoldering looks and asking if she likes jazz.
The tone of this movie is so wildly confused it could be diagnosed with vertigo. One minute we’re dealing with the very real horror of spousal abuse, and the next we’re being served cheesecake thriller tropes on a soggy plate—complete with saxophones, candles, and men who whisper like they’re auditioning for Red Shoe Diaries: Internal Affairs.
Let’s talk about Joan Severance, who does her best with a script that treats her like a prop in a lingerie catalog one minute and a punching bag the next. She’s got presence—icy, statuesque, with a stare that could curdle milk—but even she can’t save a movie where her character arc goes from trauma survivor to plot device with great legs in under 90 minutes.
The men? Forget it. Davi plays angry and sweaty. Scalia plays smarmy and sweaty. It’s like a battle of the aftershaves, and everyone’s losing. These aren’t complex characters—they’re walking clichés in cop jackets who grunt through lines like, “You don’t know what it’s like out there,” as if that excuses being human garbage.
And let’s not ignore the script, which feels like it was written during a particularly bitter divorce. Every other line is either a threat, a come-on, or some gravel-voiced nonsense about justice being a joke. It wants to be L.A. Confidential with nudity, but it ends up being Law & Order: Late Night Meltdown.
By the time the third act lurches into place—with betrayal, gunfire, and a plot twist you’ll see coming from a mile away (if you’re not asleep by then)—you’ve lost all emotional investment. Who lives, who dies, who wears the tightest jeans—it’s all just noise over the sound of your brain cells waving goodbye.
Final Verdict:
Illicit Behavior is a sleazy, tone-deaf mess masquerading as a thriller. It fumbles every serious issue it touches, objectifies its lead, and wastes Joan Severance in a role that should come with hazard pay.
1.5 out of 5 stars.
Half a star for Joan, one star for the unintentional comedy of Davi trying to look like a romantic lead. The rest is as illicit as lukewarm tap water and about as exciting. Watch at your own risk—or better yet, don’t.
