A couple of basketball-and-Lowenbrau yuppies come to the aid of a battered woman in a parking lot. There's something strange about the greasy-haired, single-earringed batterer ("A prophecy, my brother: you will regret this as long as you live"). But there's something strange about the victim too: she can identify the artist, after three or four notes, of her rescuer's favorite music (the easy-listening jazz of Tom Scott); she can identify the artists, also, of the paintings on his walls; she can read his history in his palm; she can miraculously expel the pain from his lower back; and she can cook a turkey and then remove it from the oven without the use of mitts. She's really perfect in every way -- except she's a member of a cult of satanists. A snigger a minute, for the first half of it or so. Then that gets old, and there's only a snigger every quarter-hour. With Timothy Daly, Kelly Preston, and Rick Rossovich; directed by Janet Greek. (1988) — Duncan Shepherd
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